Thane’s answering expression was a mixture of amusement and command. “What do you think?”
Riven leaned in and gave the head a long, slow lick—tongue swirling over the tip, catching the taste of him.
Then he began to suck.
Slow. Excruciatingly slow.
He took Thane into his mouth inch by inch, relaxing his jaw and breathing through his nose, letting him fill his mouth, push against the back of his throat.
Thane swore low and viciously above him, hips bucking gently—but Riven pressed a firm hand to his thigh, holding him down, controlling the pace. Thane could command a room with a glance, could make a man bleed with a whisper—but here, now, Riven was the one in charge.
And he liked it.
He hollowed his cheeks and sucked deeper, then pulled back almost completely before sliding down again. His other hand gripped the base of Thane’s cock, stroking what he couldn’t yet take. The sounds Thane was making—half growl, half praise—went straight to Riven’s core, but he stayed focused, determined to savor every inch.
This was more than lust. This was a goodbye he didn’t want to name.
Because part of him feared that after tonight, there might not be another chance to taste Thane like this. To own him like this, even briefly.
So he made it last. Made it burn.
Chapter 51
Riven wanted more.
He wanted to taste every inch of Thane, wanted to mark this memory deep into his bones—the shape of him, the sounds he made, the way his body responded with raw, unguarded hunger. He slid lower again, dragging his tongue down the shaft he’d just worshipped, over the familiar weight of Thane’s balls, and then even further.
Thane’s breath caught above him as Riven gently pushed at his thighs, encouraging them up and apart.
There was a pause—brief, uncertain.
Then Thane let him.
It was a rare kind of trust, and Riven knew it. He cradled Thane’s legs, holding them open, and bent down until he could kiss the skin just below, soft and smooth and flushed. He worked slowly, reverently, until his tongue circled the tight ring of Thane’s hole, teasing him with barely-there licks.
The sound Thane made wasn’t quite a moan—it was something deeper, more startled.
Riven smiled against his skin.
“Oh,” he murmured, dragging his tongue in slow circles. “No one’s done this to you before.”
Thane didn’t answer. But his body did.
The shiver. The way his thighs tensed in Riven’s grip. The low, guttural noise that tore from his throat when Riven flattened his tongue and feasted.
He licked with slow, deliberate strokes, letting spit and pressure work Thane open just enough to make him gasp. The taste of him was heady, rich, and clean, and Riven lost himself in it—devouring him, pressing his face in closer, tongue circling and then pressing just barely inward.
Thane’s whole body was flexing now, a sheen of sweat rising across the inked planes of his abdomen, the powerful tattooed lines of his thighs.
“Fuck, Riven,” Thane groaned, voice ragged. “What—what are you doing to me…”
Riven didn’t answer. He only doubled down, licking deeper, rougher, his fingers digging into the backs of Thane’s thighs to hold him exactly where he wanted him. He was rewarded with more sounds, helpless and almost disbelieving, as if Thane had never been undone like this before.
Which, Riven had realized with something aching in his chest, he probably hadn’t.
That made him feel something fierce and possessive—almost proud.
He was still licking, still savoring, when his free hand drifted down to his own body.
