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“Mmm. Never again, baby.” I speak against his throat, trailing my tongue and lips against his throbbing pulse and the faint scar from when I nearly lost him forever.
He’s come so far since then. Has gotten so much better at dealing with his emotions. Has learned to forgive himself and even smile at his image in the mirror.
That didn’t stop the control-freak tendencies, though. That’s a personality trait—one I love just like he secretly loves my reckless behavior sometimes.
He doesn’t try to change me and embraces me the way I am. He doesn’t care who I have to maim as long as I don’t get hurt in the process. That’s when he loses it.
I kid you not. Once, Kill threw a lighter at my head since he loves hitting me with random shit. Bran threw it back athishead and told him point-blank not to hit me anymore or he wouldn’t stand for it.
Did I fall in love with him a bit deeper after that? Possibly.
Bran shudders and his hands wrap around me, one gripping my waist and the other pulling my hair free as he throws his head against the wall with a throaty groan.
I inhale him into my lungs and keep him there—citrus and fucking mine.
“Bed. Now.” I growl against his fully marked neck, and the best part? He doesn’t hide my hickeys anymore. If anything, he loves leaving some of his own, too.
“Can’t have you running around and attracting unwanted attention. The world needs to know who you belong to,” is what he tells me every time.
“I have to show you something first.” He pants and leads me down the hall.
“Can’t it wait?” I wrap my arms around him from behind, matching his steps as I kiss his neck.
It’s awkward and definitely not fun to walk in this position, but Bran doesn’t complain and even gives me access to his throat, moaning when I nibble on his Adam’s apple.
“Baby…stop…” His voice trembles as he pushes the door open.
“You can’t call me baby and ask me to stop. I’m so going to devour the fuck out of you.”
“Nikolai…”
“Mmm?”
“Focus, please.”
“Give me a sec…”
“Nikolai!”
“What?” I lift my head, slightly annoyed that he’s stopping me when we’re both burning for this.
As if that’s not blasphemous enough, he pulls away and faces me.
That’s when I realize we’re inside his stupid home studio.
Not going to lie, ever since he nearly bled out on this floor, I’ve been kind of traumatized and would rather not come here unless it’s absolutely necessary. Good thing we live on the island, and whenever we visit his parents, he’s not in the mood to work.
Now, however, he thrusts me back into this ominous place, and even Kolya's legendary libido is shrinking as images of that day play in my head.
It was a long time ago, and we’ve come to terms with it. I even went to therapy with him for it, but no amount of therapy will erase the feeling of ‘I’m losing him’ that beat into my skull as I held his unresponsive body on the floor while his life essence poured out of him in sickening red.
But now, as he stands in front of me in his rumpled suit and with his glittery smile, those images slowly disappear.
He’s here.
He’ll always be fucking here.
He came back for me.
