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Ryneth growled, but the sound came out broken. A blue spark jumped from his fingers toward Daven’s temple. Daven caught both wrists in one hand and pinned them back against the railing, holding him there while the current crackled uselessly between them.

“That’s it,” Daven said, but the laugh that followed died fast in his throat. Ryneth’s eyes were unfocused, pupils blown, his mouth parted like he wasn’t seeing the penthouse anymore at all. He was slipping somewhere else.

And then he started to babble.

“Karo and Lysa...” Ryneth gasped, voice fraying at the edges. “They were across the aisle. We didn’t know the black ship was coming. We didn’t know we’d be bagged and tagged like inventory...”

Daven went still for half a beat. His mouth stayed on him, his hand stayed tight, but something inside him cracked wide open. Ryneth was talking. Really talking. Words spilling loose and helpless through the edge of it, giving Daven pieces he had never offered anyone.

It hit Daven so hard it almost felt like shame. Or reverence. Something low and painful in his chest that made him feel, absurdly, almost humble.

He eased just enough, unwilling to lose the edge or the moment. “Keep going,” he murmured, softer now. “I’ve got you. Come on, baby.” Daven’s own breath came in short, rough bursts, his hand turning frantic as he neared his own climax. “You’re mine now,” he growled between deep swallows, kneading Ryneth’s ass hard enough to make him arch. “Such a fast learner. You’re already figuring out who you belong under. Cry for me, Ryneth. Let the static go. Give it all to me. Show me how wrecked I can make you.”

And you wreck me too. I don’t even know how. I only know it’s happening too fast, and I can’t fucking stop it.

“I hate you,” Ryneth sobbed. He thrust his hips forward. “I hate that you’re the only thing that makes the buzzing stop.”

Daven let out a rough laugh against him. “Yeah?” He stroked his tongue over the swollen tip. “Sounds like a you problem, baby.”

“Oh—fuck.” Ryneth’s whole body jerked, eyes rolling back. “Oh, fuck...”

Daven didn’t stop until Ryneth’s back arched hard enough to pull against the railing. Blue static burst around him in a bright halo, crackling hot through the air as his whole body seized. Then he came with a broken cry, legs giving out beneath him as the current snapped and scattered around them.

Daven stayed on him through every shudder, swallowing every drop, his mouth locked around him until his own release hit a second later. His hand tightened, body jolting hard as he came, and he braced himself against Ryneth’s legs with a strangled sound caught low in his throat, staying there through the last of it with his forehead pressed to Ryneth’s stomach while they both dragged in air and came down in rough, uneven breaths. Only when the tremors finally eased did he rise slowly, wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, and pull Ryneth into a crushing embrace. “Let’s head to bed, aethera,” he murmured against his throat.

For once, Ryneth followed him without a word. Daven felt it the whole way to the bedroom, the strange, brutal truth of it sitting low in his chest. Whatever the hell this was between them, it felt too good. Too sharp. Too fast. And Daven liked it more than he should have. He liked being the thing Ryneth needed, even when Ryneth said it like an accusation. Maybe especially then.

By the time Ryneth climbed into bed, Daven already knew he wasn’t stopping here. He was going to take this further.

He only stared at Daven’s obscenely thick cock once they’d stepped inside the bedroom. For once, Daven didn’t feel like taking care of his needs. But he couldn’t help feeling smug either. Especially not with what he had to announce.

Light, he was such an asshole.

Grabbing his erection in one hand, he smirked at Ryneth, who had climbed into the bed with a delicious scowl. “After Moargan’s excellent idea, I’ve decided tomorrow needs a public statement.”

That wasn’t entirely true, but the other man didn’t need to know that.

“What does that mean?” Ryneth asked, frowning now, clearly confused.

Daven saw the moment the word landed. Ryneth’s whole body went tight, a subtle lock through his shoulders and spine. His mouth parted, then closed again. Color drained before the flush came back harder. Good. He didn’t understand Helion’s games yet, but he understood enough to know that public meant seen, meant talked about, meant other people deciding what he was before he got the chance to say a word.

Light, he blushed so sweetly. Daven would never get enough of that. Tilting his head back, he laughed, then slung an arm over Ryneth’s waist and pressed his back against Daven’s chest, his erection between Ryneth’s ass cheeks.

“I’ll let you know. But I need you to be good for me. If that means redecorating this house, by all means.”

“What? No!” Ryneth spat and thrashed in Daven’s hold.

Reaching for the lube on the bedside table, Daven slicked himself, then pressed Ryneth down and slid inside him in one slow push.

Ryneth sucked in air. His fingers clawed at the sheets around them. “That fucking hurts, you fucker.”

“That’s because you won’t relax. You won’t listen to me either.” Daven stayed still and let the stretch of him do the work. Ryneth clenched around him so hard it dragged a rough breath out of his chest.

The stillness was worse than movement. There was no rhythm to brace against, no way to turn it into something simple and physical. He just had to feel him there, heavy and deep and impossible to ignore, every word landing with Daven lodged inside him like the point of a blade.

“That’s because you have no right. Redecorating? I know what you’re up to—” Ryneth began, but his hips jerked treacherously.

“Stay still,” Daven murmured against Ryneth’s nape.