Nate’s hands never stopped moving, tracing my jaw, cupping my cheeks, then sliding down to my throat. He squeezed gently, just enough to make my breath catch, his thumb stroking my pulse, claiming me without a word. I tilted my head back, giving him more, wanting him to see how much I trusted him. His mouth followed, biting a line from my jaw to the soft hollow just above my collarbone, tongue soothing the sting, lips worshipping the skin he’d just marked.
“Let me,” he whispered, voice rough with want. He slipped down my body, fingers digging into my shoulders, then my ribs, then finally my hips, pinning me in place. I felt him press a kiss to the trail of hair below my navel, then mouth at the edge of my briefs, nosing at the shape of my cock, breathing in the scent of us. I groaned, fisted my hands in the sheets, tried not to beg.
He took his time, worshipping every inch with lips and teeth and tongue. He mouthed at my cock through the fabric, letting his breath ghost hot and damp over the wet patch already spreading across the cotton. He licked a broad stripe from base to tip, not caring that he wasn’t skin to skin yet, making me rut up helplessly, desperate for more friction, more heat, more of him.
“Fuck, Nate,” I panted, my voice shaking. “You’re killing me.”
He just grinned, that feral flash of teeth that told me he was enjoying every second of my unraveling. He pulled back just enough to slide his palms under my thighs, spreading me wider, dragging his mouth down to suck at the soft skin inside my leg, right where it met my briefs. His teeth sank in, not hard enough to break skin but enough to bruise, and I gasped, my whole body bowing off the bed.
He didn’t let up, shifting down further, licking the sweat from the crease of my hip, biting at the waistband, tugging just enough to tease but not enough to take it off. My cock throbbed, leaking precome that made a mess of the fabric, slick and filthy and perfect.
Nate crawled up my body, settling between my legs, his own cock grinding against mine, both of us straining for any scrap of sensation. He pressed his forehead to mine, eyes wild, breath ragged. “You feel so fucking good like this,” he said, grinding harder, faster, making me whimper, helpless to do anything but hold on.
He rolled his hips, the wet cotton slipping, sticking, dragging every nerve raw. His hand slid between us, pressing the heel of his palm right against my cock, grinding it down until I was shaking, every muscle tight with restraint. I hooked my ankles behind his knees, pulling him closer, needing every inch of contact, needing him to know he could take whatever he wanted from me.
He bit my bottom lip, sucked it into his mouth, then kissed me hard, tongue fucking my mouth in time with his hips. It was messy, needy, everything I’d been holding back. When he finally pulled away, I chased him, refusing to lose the connection for even a second.
His hand moved down, tracing the seam of my briefs, teasing the head of my cock with light, almost maddening touches. Then he cupped my balls, rolling them between his fingers, squeezingjust enough to make me moan, to make my hips jerk up into his grip.
I dragged my hands down his back, nails digging in, needing to mark him, to prove to both of us that this was real. That this was happening, that I was his, that he was mine. He rocked against me, faster now, our cocks sliding together, the wet heat making everything more desperate, more frantic.
He pulled back just enough to drop his head and bite at my chest, sucking another bruise over my heart, leaving his mark where I’d feel it every time I moved. “You’re everything,” he said, words muffled against my skin, voice raw with feeling.
I grabbed his hair, pulled him up to kiss me again, tasting myself on his tongue, tasting us both, spit slick and filthy. I let him see everything, let him see how close I was, how much I needed him. “Don’t stop,” I begged, voice wrecked, desperate.
He pressed his face into my neck, teeth grazing my pulse. “Never,” he promised, and then he bit down, hard enough to make me see stars.
We rutted like that, underwear soaked, every movement a promise, a plea, a goodbye and an I love you tangled together. It was filthy and it was perfect, both of us letting go of everything except the need to be close, to be known, to be wanted.
Muscles tensed under my skin, every inch of me straining for his hands, his mouth, his hunger. I needed him to see me, to remember me not as the careful, controlled alpha but as the man who wanted—needed—to be wanted, to be devoured. My abs tightened as I pulled him closer, sweat-slick and wild, letting him feel just how strong I was, how ready to be undone.
“Nate,” I rasped, flexing for him, rolling my shoulders and arching my back so he could trace every line with his gaze, every contour with his hands. “Show me. I want to feel you—want to feel you lose yourself in me.”
His eyes went hot, greedy, pupils blown wide with something halfway between worship and hunger. Nails skimmed down my ribs, tracing the planes of muscle, pausing at my waist before skimming up again. Fingers pressed into my sides, thumb tracing along the cut of my obliques, making me shiver. A low groan broke from my throat, the sound guttural and raw, ripped free by the heat of his attention.
Nate pushed up, climbing over me, knees bracketing my hips. His mouth found my jaw, then my throat, working his way lower, tongue dragging down the column of my neck to the hollow where my pulse thudded hard. I tangled my hands in his hair, holding him there, letting him taste salt, letting him feel my heart racing just for him.
Hot breath coasted down my chest, tongue flicking over my nipple, sucking hard enough to leave a mark before moving on. He pressed his nose into my pit, inhaling deep, groaning at the scent. The sound made my cock jerk, underwear stretched tight, leaking through the fabric.
“Fuck, Evan, you smell—” He broke off, voice shaky, then licked a slow, filthy line up the side of my body, burying his face in my pit again, tongue working deep. The sensation was blinding, an electric shock straight to my cock. My hips bucked up, grinding into him, desperate for more friction, more contact.
“Yeah, baby,” I encouraged, breath hitching as he worshipped me. “Just like that. Take it—take whatever you want.”
His hands roamed everywhere, sliding over my flexed arms, squeezing my biceps, mouthing at the muscle, biting until I hissed, then soothing the sting with broad, wet licks. Sweat mixed with spit, slicking his mouth and my skin, the two of us lost in the heat, the raw animal want.
I arched for him, flexing harder, giving him every line, every ridge, showing off just how much he could take from me. Natesucked at my pit again, licked a trail down to my stomach, nosing along the waistband of my briefs, tongue teasing the edge before he looked up, eyes dark with filthy promise.
“Want you to remember this,” he whispered, words thick with emotion and need. “Want you to remember how much I fucking crave you, how much I worship every part of you.”
His mouth returned to my chest, working his way across to my other pit, burying his face there, licking, sucking, breathing me in like he’d never get enough. I moaned for him, shameless, bucking up into the hot press of his mouth, dragging my nails across his back to ground myself.
Fingers dipped beneath the band of my underwear, just enough to tease but not enough to relieve the pressure. Teeth scraped over my hip bone, tongue laving the sensitive skin, mouth leaving a trail of red marks that would linger for days. I flexed again, muscles tensing and rippling under his touch, wanting him to see every inch I gave him, every inch I let him claim.
He mouthed his way down my thigh, biting at the crease, then sucking a bruise just above where the fabric ended. His hands never stopped moving, gripping my ass through the briefs, kneading, spreading, pulling me apart so he could get at every secret, every scent, every taste.
The sound of his breath—heavy, ragged, worshipful—mixed with my own, the air thick with salt and sex and the sense that this was more than just bodies colliding. This was a promise. This was a prayer. This was a memory burned so deep that nothing, not even war or loss or morning light, could erase it.
“Fuck, Nate—please—” The words were broken, half sob, half command. I didn’t care. I wanted him to ruin me, to mark me inside and out, to show me that even if everything else fell apart, we’d had this.
