I adjust, slower now, more deliberate, testing the angle, the depth. Learning him in this way—on my terms.
I’m nowhere close to taking all of him. Not yet.
But I will be.
The thought drops low and heavy in my gut, heat coiling with it.
I want this. I want him. All of him.
Just once—just to know—I want to feel him lose that iron control, want to feel the moment he stops holding back. Want to take everything he is and make him break around it.
The bond flares, hot and alive.
It pours through me—his control slipping, his need spiking, that edge of something more primal threading through everything he feels.
I feel it.
All of it.
And it only pushes me further.
I adjust, working him deeper, slower now, testing the stretch, the way my body has to shift and adapt around him. He’s bigger than anything I’ve handled like this—long, thick, and built in a way that demands attention—but I don’t pull back.
That’s when I feel it.
The change.
It starts subtle—a tightening at the base, a shift in his body’s response—but then it grows, swelling steadily, undeniably, until the shape of it presses against my lips in a way that makes my breath hitch.
His knot. Even just the beginning of it is different, heavier. It’s thicker than the rest of him. The stretch of it pushes at my mouth in a way that makes instinct flare—warning and want tangled together.
Varek’s gasp is strained and full of need. “Pax?—”
It’s a warning.
A request.
A line he’s trying to hold.
The bond spikes again, hotter this time, edged with something dangerously close to panic—not for himself, but for me.
I feel it, and I don’t stop. Not completely. But I don’t push further either.
I hold here instead, feeling him, the shape of him, the tension locked through his entire body. He’s fighting it—fighting the instinct to take, to press, to completely lose himself—but I don’t want him holding back.
I want him to come.
I lift my gaze, catching his eyes, and arch a brow in quiet challenge.
His control fractures. His eyes are wide, blown, hanging by the thinnest thread.
I slide my hand down and wrap it firmly around the base of him, squeezing around half of his knot where I can’t take him deeper.
That does it.
A raw, unrestrained roar tears out of him as his back arches hard off the bed. I hold on as he releases, the force of it catching me off-guard. Heat floods my mouth—too much to contain—spilling, overwhelming. I pull back just enough to breathe, keeping the head of him in my mouth, sucking, swallowing what I can as the rest spills warm and steady over my lips.
The bond ignites, hitting like a shockwave.
