Page 98 of Godless Saints

And we both fell asleep like that. Tangled. Exhausted. Still holding on.

CHAPTER 24

CILLIAN

I woke up with Moon’s hair in my mouth. Fuck. He was still here. I stayed perfectly still. His face looked soft in sleep. No tight jaw. No sharp calculations spinning behind those pretty eyes. Guilt sat heavy in my chest, right next to the need to keep him. I brushed my fingers over the marks on his hip. Fingerprints. Teeth.

I stroked through his hair, barely brushing his temple. “Saranghae.” This morning I would fix it. Take care of him. Feed him.

The cabin stayed quiet. Wind shoved against the glass. Gray light leaked through the curtains. Right now, with him pressed against me, it felt possible.

I knew it the second I saw him again in the cathedral. Ronan Carrick was one problem. Moon’s father was the real one. The entire academy already watched us like the main event.

But with his body warm against mine and my ring catching against his skin, it felt real. Like it could last.

He shifted, thighs clearly aching.

My hand stayed on his lower back, thumb pressing slow circles into one of the darker bruises I’d left on his hip.

“Ugh, why the fuck are you touching me like I’m dying?” Moon snapped, still groggy.

I didn’t stop.

“Checking.”

“For what?”

“Damage.” My thumb traced the bruise. “Making sure I didn’t break what’s mine last night.”

Moon’s face burned. “Fuck you, Cillian. Stop pretending you feel guilty when we both know you loved marking me up like a fucking animal.”

I smiled against the back of his neck.

“Yeah?” I dragged my hand lower, palming his ass, fingers digging into the tender flesh. “You’re right. I did. And you let me. You begged for it, Moonshine. Remember?”

He shivered and buried his face in the pillow, groaning.

“Shut up,” he hissed, muffled. He pressed back against my hand.

I couldn’t stay in bed any longer. If I did, I’d fuck him again. All fucking day. I got up, naked, and turned the shower on hot. Steam filled the small bathroom.

Moon was still sprawled on the bed, watching me with narrowed eyes. I didn’t give him a chance to argue. I flipped him onto his back, grabbed his thighs, and yanked his legs off the edge of the bed.

“What the fuck, Cillian—”

I didn’t let him finish. I hauled him forward by the hips, dragged him off the edge of the bed, and lifted. His legs locked around my waist on instinct. Half-hard cock pressed hot against my stomach, bare skin sliding against mine.

His breath caught against my neck. “No fucking way.” His hands shoved at my shoulders. “Don’t carry me. Put me down. I’m not some fucking damsel you need to haul around.”

I carried him straight into the shower. Hot water hit us. I pinned him to the tile, chest to chest. His legs locked around my waist. Heels dug into my lower back. The tremor in his thighs gave him away.

“Put me down.” His fingers dug into my shoulders, nails biting. Half push, half cling.

“No,” I said. “You’re sore. I did that. So I fix it.”

Moon’s forehead dropped to my shoulder. “You never listen.” He still didn’t let go.

I set him down and turned him so his back hit my chest. His ass settled against my cock. I locked one arm around his waist.