“Leave me alone, Ezra.” There’s no fight in his words, but there’s fire in the black pools of his eyes and I lever myself over him, tightening my fingers around his wrists until I puncture the skin and blood pools beneath my nails. His cock throbs between us and he bares his neck to me.
“Declan,” I say again, resigned.
“Do it or get the fuck off me, Ezra.”
His vitriol sparks something inside of me and I move both his wrists to one hand and pull my dick out of my briefs with the other, then I tear down his pants and use my hips to force his legs open.
“Is this what you fucking want, Declan?”
“I want you,” he rasps. “I only ever want you.”
I lean back and spit on my cock, then force my way inside of him. He arches off the stairs and fights against my hold on him, but I don’t need to read his thoughts to know he isn’t really trying to get away.
I snap my hips forward and bury myself as deep as I can reach, and he bares his throat to me again and widens his legs. The blood from his wrists is hot and slippery against my fingers and his pained moans urge me on. I’m close to coming, but there’s so much built up tension and rage inside of me, I’m not willing to let it go yet. I pull out and straddle his chest, dragging my cock across his lips.
“Suck it,” I growl, and he takes me into his mouth and down his throat.
I thread my fingers into his hair and pull his head off the stairs so I can fuck his mouth. It feels good, but it’s not enough to make me come, and that’s when I feel his slick fingers slipping over my ass and pressing against my hole. He pushes past my rim and I buck against his mouth.
I fuck his throat until I get close then I pull out and drag my cock down his face, his chest, and I settle between his legs and lick him from balls to tip. I suck on his balls then play with them in the palm of my hand while I tease the head of his dick with my tongue. I tease his ass like he teased mine, and as I suck on his throbbing erection, I push two blood-slick fingers into his ass.
“Ezra,” he rasps, and I spread him open with a third finger. I suck his balls into my mouth, laving my tongue over his tightly drawn sac. I jerk him off with one hand and fuck his ass with the other, rutting against the stairs like I want to own them. Declan writhes beneath me, his cock solid and thick in my hand.
“Come, Declan,” I whisper, pushing my fingers up to the knuckle. They stretch his hole and his body spasms around me. He shifts his weight as he comes, and the movement presses my cock into the edge of the stairs. The bite of pain is more than I expected, and my own orgasm slams into me.
My hips jerk forward, cum spurting against the stairs and his release slicks down my wrist, mixing with his blood and sliding into my mouth. My fangs are slippery and ready and instinct takes over. I don’t even think about it as I sink my teeth into that favorite part of him where his femoral artery arcs down into his thigh.
It’s not until Declan’s blood pours into my mouth that I realize what I’ve done.
Again,
Blood pools on the stairs and my knee slips, banging into the wood. I wrap my fingers around one of the bannister rails and pull myself back up, catching as much of his blood in my mouth as I can. Declan moans and his body goes limp under my tongue.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I wasn’t ready. Tears fill my eyes and spill down the side of my face and I reach for him, mouth secure around the two puncture wounds currently draining the life out of him. Declan breathes a shuddering sigh and tangles our fingers together, squeezing my hand until…until he isn’t anymore.
I pry my mouth away and cover the holes on his leg with my hand. It doesn’t matter. There isn’t any more blood flow. The stairs are crimson, covered in his blood, and I smear it over his face when I touch his cheeks. The smell of iron is thick in the air and I slam my eyes closed, drowning in that coffee and cinnamon smell that’s always been him.
“Declan,” I whimper, brushing his raven black hair away from his face. His lashes flutter and he groans. He doesn’t open his eyes. I’m not rewarded with a look at those blue irises of his, and I don’t deserve to see them anyway.
A calm settles over me, much like the way I’d felt on my knees with Franklin’s gun at the back of my neck, except now there’s no bond to sever. I don’t know if he’s going to get this next part right, but we can’t not try.
I pull his lips apart and force my wrist between his teeth. His fangs slide against my skin, but he doesn’t bite.
“Declan,” I beg.
He still doesn’t bite and I flatten my other hand against his chest and rest my forehead against his shoulder. Waiting. Hoping.
Praying.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Beneath me, his leg twitches. A subtle movement of his knee, and then I feel the sharp press of his fangs against my wrist, but they’re not breaking skin.
