I get hard again.
I swear I don’t know how. I don’t know how my body is finding the energy. But I am, with Zero's cock still buried in me and his hand still in my hair and his voice still in my ear, hard and leaking again and shaking, and he laughs against the back of my neck because he knows I’m losing my fucking mind.
He’s revelling in it. "There he is. Greedy little thing. My own personal little slut."
When I come the second time it is with his hand finally between my thighs squeezing my cock, his teeth in the back of my neck, my whole body locked tight under his.
He follows me over.
He pulls out before he can knot—true to his word, even now—and comes on the small of my back in long hot stripes thathe rubs into my skin with his palm, slow, deliberate. Marking me. He bends down and presses an open kiss to the place where his come is, and I shudder under him from the tickle on my overly sensitive skin.
"There," he says. Wrecked. Low. Like not coming inside me ruined him just as much as it prolonged my needs. "There you go, baby."
I can’t move.
I’m face down on his ruined duvet, every bone in my body rearranged, my throat raw and my hips aching and my jaw a slow throb on one side. Zero pushes off the bed behind me. I hear him pad across the carpet barefoot, go into the bathroom. Water running. The clatter of a glass.
He comes back. "Roll, baby."
I roll. Slow. He's standing over me with a glass of water in one hand and a wet washcloth folded over the other. He hasn’t put any clothes back on and I swear his dick is getting hard all over again. He’s got a little dried come on the back of his hand and he looks faintly amused at himself.
"Sit up."
"...mm." I can’t even form a word. My brain is scattered and all I want to do is lay back, bask in the absolute bliss of having Zero’s full attention and the evidence of his touch all over me.
"Baby. Sit up. I'm not pouring water down your throat lying flat. I'd kill you."
I push up onto a shaky elbow. He gets a hand behind my back and props me against the headboard like a doll he is arranging. Iama doll he is arranging. His personal fuck doll.
He sits on the edge of the bed. Holds the glass to my lips. "Slow."
I sip.
The water hits my throat and I wince. He sees it. The corner of his mouth tips.
"Yeah. That's going to be a day, baby. Sip. Don't gulp."
I take another sip.
His thumb drags across a bit of water that dribbles down my chin. "You wrecked me, you know that?"
I huff a laugh. "...you wrecked me." My voice is all kinds of hoarse.
"Mm. We wrecked each other. Different ways. Sip again."
He works me through half the glass. Tilts my chin up with two fingers to check something about my face, sees something he doesn't like, sets the water down. Picks up the washcloth. Folds it again so the cold part is on the outside.
He presses it to the side of my throat.
I hiss.
"There it is," he says. Conversational. "I knew there'd be a mark."
"...is it bad?"
"It's going to be glorious. Margot's probably going to think you've got mono."
"Zero."
