His pace quickens, his thrusts turn frantic, his fingers bruising where they grip my hips. I stroke myself along with his thrusts; my hand is a blur, my cock throbbing, I’mso close—
“Coming—”I gasp, my body tightening, my orgasm coiling low in my gut. Ari leans over me, his teeth sinking into my shoulder as he fucks me harder, deeper, swelling inside me.
“Oh, God. I love this ass,”he moans, his voice raw.“Come with me, detka,” he orders, but he doesn’t even need to; I’m already there with him. Pleasure explodes through me, my cock pulsing in my grip as I come, painting my chest, my stomach, and my fingers. Ari’s hips stutter as he buries himself to the hilt, his cock jerking as he fills me.
Ari presses his forehead against mine, his body trembling, his cock still twitching inside me.“Vse moyo,”All mine,he growls in his possessive tone.
“Tvoy.”Yours.I smirk, breathless wrecked and completely his.
The sound of tyres crunching on snow reaches us from outside. It’s faint through the walls, and the effect it has is immediate and ugly. Ari doesn’t look toward the window; he doesn’t need to. He stops moving, his mouth still against mine, his hands still pinning my hips, and for a second he holds me there, not letting me go. “That’ll be Niko,” I say quietly.
“Yes,” he answers, and he sounds normal, which is the worst part, because it means he’s already pulling away. We get dressed without speaking much. Ari moves around me with that same efficient economy he uses on base. The lackof hesitation is what makes my stomach flip, because I know he’s good at cutting things off when he decides it’s necessary.
When I pick up my bag, he takes it out of my hand without asking and slings it over his own shoulder like it’s his job. I follow him to the door. He opens it, and the cold hits us both. He doesn’t pause; he steps straight out into the snow.
Niko is waiting by the car with his arms folded, his face arranged into something that would pass for neutral if you don’t know him. He takes one look at us and lifts his eyebrows. “You both look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge.”
“Good morning to you too,” I reply.
Niko’s gaze flicks to my bag on Ari’s shoulder and then to my face. “Are you both ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I say, and I hate how flat it sounds. Ari doesn’t answer him. He steps close to me instead, grips my chin, and kisses me.
It’s not a subtle kiss; it’s a statement. A statement made in the open because he doesn’t care if Niko sees, as long as the person who matters understands it, and the person who matters is me.
I kiss him back hard, my hands grabbing his hips, pulling him in, because if I don’t take what he gives me right now, I’ll spend the next God knows how many months remembering what it felt like and resenting myself for not doing it while I had the chance.
When we break apart, his forehead rests against mine for a moment. I can feel his breath, and I can’t think of anything clever to say, so I kiss him again instead, quick and hard. He holds my face in both hands and makes a sound that lets me know he approves of the choice.
Niko clears his throat, loud enough to be rude. “I’m still here.”
Ari steps back first, and the shift is almost instant. His facial expression closes off, and his posture straightens. The softness is gone, replaced by something precise and unreadable. I’ve seen that switch enough times to know it’s real, not a performance. Which means it isn’t aimed at Niko or me; it’s aimed at whatever part of him would otherwise crack.
He turns and walks to the car, throwing my bag in the boot like it’s nothing, then shuts it with a hard, final slam. Niko gets in the driver’s seat, and I take the passenger side. Ari gets into the back without comment, sitting behind me.
The engine starts. The car moves.
The road is familiar, and the cabin shrinks behind us with each metre. I keep my eyes forward because if I look back, I’ll start doing the thing where I memorise what it looks like, and memorising it won’t help; it will just make it hurt more later.
Niko speaks first because I’m guessing he can’t stand the quiet. “Did you eat?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“Did you sleep?”
“Enough.”
He makes a small noise of approval, then glances in the rear-view mirror. “And you?” he says to Ari.
“I’m fine,” Ari replies, and the tone is dismissive enough that it should end the conversation, which means Niko keeps going anyway, because he’s his brother and he’s stubborn.
“You look like an idiot.”
“Shut up and drive,” Ari responds. Niko huffs a laugh, then lets it drop, and the car settles back into quiet. Ari’s knee bumps the back of my seat once, lightly. It could be an accident, but it happens again a minute later, and I know it isn’t.
Instead of turning around, I reach back; my hand finds his through the gap between the seats. Our fingers brush, then lace together. He grips me hard, and it does something to my insides that I refuse to analyse right now.
We hold hands like that all the way to the checkpoint.
