“Feels like it.”
“Then let me hold you until it doesn’t.” He makes it allsound so simple. His hand cups my hip, steadying me, thumb pressing in just enough to remind me I’m solid and wanted. My body responds before my brain does, heat pooling low and slow.
“Arte,” I breathe.
“I know,Duende.” His voice roughens. “We’re not rushing anything. We don’t have to do a damn thing. We don’t need you getting more injured.”
But he presses a kiss to my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. Each one deliberate. Each one fucking wrecking me.
I shift my weight, and he groans softly. It’s low and restrained, like he’s holding himself back on purpose. That sound does things to me.
“I need you.” Not sex. Not release. Just—him.
His forehead rests against mine. “I’m right here.”
He guides my hand carefully, patiently to his chest, right over his heart. It’s beating hard, fast beneath my palm.
“You feel that? That’s yours. Injury, fear, hockey crisis, chaos goblin energy and all.”
My throat closes. I nod, unable to speak.
He kisses me again. It’s deeper this time, still slow, still controlled. His grip tightens just enough to feel like a claim, not a demand.
I melt into him, letting myself be held instead of holding everything together. For the first time since the hospital, my body quiets and so does my mind.
Artemis’s hand doesn’t leave mine. It stays there, warm and solid, fingers spread like he’s anchoring me to him. Like if he lets go, I might float away.
“You still here?”
I nod. “Barely.”
His thumb shifts, brushing lower until it hooks lightly into the waistband of my shorts. He pauses there, waiting.Always waiting for my body to say yes even when my mouth can’t. He’s such a sexy ho for consent.
I swallow. “You can?—”
That’s all it takes. He slides his hand down, unhurried, and the contact on my pulsing cock is enough to make me gasp. God, it’s been days since I’ve felt anything other than pain and dread inside my own skin. Desire hits me low and hard.
“Tell me if it’s too much.” He’s still bossy, even with gentle hands.
“It’s not.” I breathe. It’s not nearly enough.
His grip firms just slightly, the pressure steady and controlled as he pumps me slowly. He doesn’t rush me, doesn’t tease me into oblivion either. He just touches me like this is exactly where his hands belong, because it is.
I’m not sure who needs this more, who aches for emotional grounding more, but we’re both leaning into each other like if we don’t anchor each other, we’ll both break.
I shove my face into his neck, biting down on a groan as sensation crests fast and unexpected. My body is wound too tight already. It doesn’t take much.
“Arte.” I don’t know what I want, for him to save me or ruin me, but I need him to do something, go faster, push me harder, stop being so devastatingly fucking patient with me.
“I’ve got you.”
The permission does me in. I come hard, quietly, shaking, every nerve lighting up like it’s been waiting for this exact release. He holds me through it, steady and firm, murmuring something in Spanish I can’t quite catch but feel all the way down to my bones.
When it passes, I sag against him, wrecked and breathless and covered in cum.
Artemis presses a kiss into my hair, then my temple. His thumb keeps slow, sweeping circles against my side until mypulse evens out. There’s no rush, no expectation, no scorecard. Just me, whole again for a minute, cradled in his strong arms.
“You okay?”
