“What do you mean?”
“Why you liked pinning me down when I had magic.” Sebastian kissed his hipbone, letting his tonguetrace bath-warmed skin. “There is something about knowing you could take over but you won’t, that you like this too. That it doesn’t matter if you’re bigger; I still get to have you however I want.”
“I feel like you’re fighting dirty right now,” Wesley said, groaning. “Knowing how willing I am and using it to torture me. Except youdon’tget to have me however you want; you get to have me in a way that takes some damn care with your bruised face. You’ve got hands, duck; use them. Preferablynow.”
Wesley’s authoritative tone sent pleasant shivers up Sebastian’s spine. Only weeks ago, that tone of voice probably would have been accompanied by Wesley flipping him over and taking control. But even with the teasing, Wesley wasn’t going to do that tonight—wouldn’t do it ever again, unless Sebastian could handle it. Because even though Sebastian had lost his magic, he was completely safe with Wesley.
He kissed Wesley’s stomach again.
“Sebastian de Leon,” Wesley said, low and warning and gravelly with want. One of his hands was curled, the sheet balled in his fist. But he still wasn’t taking over.
And yes, he really understood why Wesley had liked having him at his mercy so much when Sebastian had had his magic. But Wesley had endless patience to draw things out and Sebastian most definitely did not.
He shifted up to kiss over Wesley’s heart, then grabbed the oil they’d left on the nightstand. As much as he wanted Wesley in his mouth, itwouldhurt. Wesley had his own battle scars from a bad past, and if he didn’t want to be the cause of pain, Sebastian would always respect that. He slicked his palm with oil instead, working Wesley’s cock and slipping fingers insidehim, making him shift and shiver until they were both panting.
“Now, come on,” Wesley said, a raw and needy edge to it. “Don’t be gentle.”
Sebastian thought he could almost hear the words Wesley wasn’t saying.My skin never stops crawling for nicotine. My mind never stills. Distract me, take me out of myself.
Sebastian knew the feeling. The only place he could ever really escape was with Wesley.
He shifted, crawling up the bed so they could kiss again as he slid into Wesley, and the tightness of his body was enough to make Sebastian dizzy.
“Perfect,” Wesley breathed, their lips so close that Sebastian felt the shape of the words more than heard them.
He rocked his hips gently, and Wesley arched, a groan of pleasure escaping him that sent answering sparks through Sebastian.
“Wes,” he said softly, over the sound of their breaths. “Thank you for being there tonight.”
“Oh no, you’re talking, I’m never going to last now.”
Sebastian laughed. He touched their foreheads together, rocking his hips again, all attention focused so he could move his body however Wesley liked best.
He needed to keep talking, though, to say it all. “When Billy swung at me, I didn’t duck, because I tried reaching for my magic—but it wasn’t there,” he whispered. “I was falling, and reaching for a rope, but there was only empty air.”
Wesley’s hands tightened on his shoulders.
Sebastian swallowed. “But thenyouwere there, Wesley. I needed help, and you were there.”
“Sebastian,” Wesley said, hoarse and rough.
And then they were kissing again.
Chapter Five
Wesley came awake to pale light cutting through the gap in the drawn curtains, falling across the bed. The air in the room was cold and the day would be gray. The Wesley of the past would have been unsurprised to wake to yet another miserable late-November morning.
He glanced down at Sebastian, curled so close that he was half on top of him, his skin soft against Wesley’s own. The tropical flower’s extra blankets were still piled on top of them, keeping their bed luxuriously warm.
The tiniest smile curled on Wesley’s lips. November’s weather could do what it liked; there was nothing cold or gray or miserable about this morning.
Sebastian’s head was resting on his shoulder and his arm slung across Wesley’s ribs. Despite the loss of his magic, he still treated Wesley like a personal teddy bear. Was it from the risks that sleep brought or did he just like Wesley’s body heat? It seemed impossible that Sebastian could have no magic but still be at risk for the harrowing blood terrors that used to regularly imprison him in his own body.
But then magic itself was impossible, so who the fuck knew? As long as the uncertainty was there, it was simply good sense for Wesley to share his bed at night.
There were worse fates.
There was a stirring along Wesley’s side as Sebastian shifted, pressing even closer into him. “Buenos días,” he said into Wesley’s skin.
