Page 363 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

The woods whisper and the skies are always darkest before dawn and Kade feels hidden, he feels new, he says things he could never imagine himself saying.

Lachlan just says them all back, three fingers deep, free hand playing with Kade’s throat, squeezing gently as his tongue licks into another wild, wicked kiss and the earth breathes and the trees sigh.

And then, when Kade begs, he feels the blunt press of Lachlan’s cock against him, head wet with precome. Lachlan’s hair falls around them like a willow tree, makes a secret pocket of the world just for them as Kade whispers whatever he likes, unmoored down to his very last cell, and the press inside makes him tense up, but it’s his, all his.

‘Yeah,’ he pants shallowly. ‘More.’

The roots are singing while Lachlan pushes deeper inside, determinedly slow, which Kade appreciates because he’s fucking huge, and he never stops kissing him, lips to lips, filthy, sweet and perfect.

Kade’s body stretches to adjust.

Whatever pain radiates melts off into silken pleasure when Lachlan takes his cock in hand, rubs up and down, thumb playing with the slit, just seems to know how Kade needs it, loves it.

When he’s all the way inside, he stops and stays a beat.

Propped up on one elbow, it’s so dark Kade can hardly even see his face, but he smells him, feels him, tastes him, hears him.

‘How does it feel?’ he whispers.

Kade only shakes his head, couldn’t find the words if he tried.

He just kisses him.

And Lachlan kisses him back, hips moving.

Slow at first, a velvety drag of friction and fire.

But then Kade wants more, and he asks for it.

So Lachlan gives it, because he loves him.

Love, love, love all the way inside, they’re locked together in love.

The mild pain elevates to something entirely new, a higher level of pleasure so vast Kade almost fears falling into it as Lachlan starts to fuck him in earnest, hitting a rhythm that punches noises from Kade, that makes his bones melt, that fills him with fresh need.

‘Fuck, fuck, yeah, that’s it.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Just like that.’ He drags his mouth down hard, bites Lachlan’s lip to get the red they both want and lets out a happy moan when Lachlan does the same, bites his lip in turn. It’s obscene and it’s obsessive and it’s objectively gross, yet Kade has never felt happier in his life.

Rosy, ruinous red.

He swallows it all.

The pounding rhythm hits a high point, and Kade almost screams as a bubble of powerful bliss is born inside, needs to get out, get free. It’s so intense he’s shaking, utterly beyond compare.

‘Fuck, yes,’ he urges, fingers clawing Lachlan’s back, his own voice dripping in Vox. ‘Love me, love me, love me harder, love me full.’

Lachlan lifts his knee, changes the angle and then Kade really does scream with the salt of the sea on his tongue, sees colours behind his eyes as he comes again, and the bubble is dragged out of him, breaking apart into a million small ones, droplets, water, cells, it’s all the same, and he comes all over their hot, damp skin, devoured by love in the dark.

And he gets to feel Lachlan’s rhythm hitch, the rumbling moan that breaks free of their kiss as the man he loves slams into him once, twice, harder, deeper and then stays, moaning as his orgasm takes him.

But he will not let it.

No, Lachlan is his.

So he kisses him throughout, greedy for all of it.