I shivered as he buried his face in my groin and breathed me in—reallybreathed me in—groaning like he was already drunk on the scent of my desire.
He wrapped a hand around my cock andlicked—slow and deliberate—from root to tip, tracing the vein with his tongue before teasing the head. He dipped his tongue under the foreskin and circled the slit, collecting the precum there with a flick that made my spine arch and my toes curl. A moan ripped out of my throat, sharp and helpless.
It was different this time.
Not one of those frantic, stolen encounters where we clung to each other like addicts in withdrawal. This wasn’t just sex. It wasa claiming. Like Sin was peeling me apart and putting me back together with every touch of his mouth.
“Hold your legs,” he said, barely above a whisper.
I obeyed before I even thought about it, my hands slotting behind my knees, thighs pulled to my chest. Completely exposed. I should’ve panicked. Should’ve pulled away. But all I felt was…right. Like maybe, for once, I didn’t have to wear armor. Didn’t have to be in control.
Sin moved lower, pressing kisses along my inner thigh that set my skin alight. I watched through lidded eyes as his lips ghosted over my sac, his tongue tracing the seam before he took one ball into his mouth, then the other, rolling them gently with his tongue.
My head slammed back into the pillow. “Fuck. Sin?—”
Saliva slicked the skin beneath, warm trails dripping down to my taint. He followed it, dragging his tongue lower, until it flirted at the edges of my entrance.
My whole body bucked when I felt his finger—just one—circle there, teasing. Testing.
Then he was sucking me again, wet heat swallowing me whole as his finger breached me slowly, gently. My muscles resisted for a split second before melting around the intrusion, softened by the trust he never asked for but always somehow earned.
Sin pulled off with a wet pop, grinning up at me, eyes dark and wicked. “It’s okay, baby,” he said, his voice a low rumble that shattered something inside me. “I’ve got you.”
AndGod help me, I melted.
His tongue replaced his finger, licking and pressing with unholy skill, making me feel more open, morealivethan I ever had in my life. The wet, obscene sounds of him working me open were drowned out by the thunder in my chest.
One finger became two.
Two became three.
All while his mouth worked magic on my cock, now flushed and aching, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. I was floating—untethered, weightless, held only by the way he worshipped me like I was something sacred.
Lost in the drugging need of my body, the attention he was drowning me in. I barely heard the soft click that had my eyes springing open. Every muscle in my body tensed. I knew what was coming. I’d watched enough porn to know the sound of a lube bottle clicking open.
Sin reached for the lube, pouring it over his fingers. A heartbeat later, he ripped open a condom with his teeth—fuck that’s hot—and I swore I nearly came just watching him roll it down his thick, glistening shaft.
“You good?” he asked, pausing.
I could barely nod. My mouth had stopped working; thoughts caught in the war betweenneedandfear. Generational trauma echoed in my ears—Astor men don’t bend. Astor men take. Own. Dominate. But all I wanted at this moment was tobehis. Just for a little while.
Just tofeel.
Slick, squelching sounds joined our labored breaths as Sin worked the lube inside me with one hand. Then slicked himself with the last of the lube, hand stroking with a practiced rhythm as he lined up at my entrance. I reached for him instinctively, dragging him down until our mouths met again. His tongue slipped into my mouth just as the head of his cock pressed into me.
I whimpered against his lips as he pushed through that tight ring of muscle, gasping into the kiss, fingers tangled in his curls like lifelines.
“You ready?” he murmured again, kissing the corner of my mouth.
A smile ghosted across my lips, small and wrecked. “Y-yeah.”
He slid deeper, inch by inch, until he was seated inside me fully, his body shaking from restraint. And for the first time in my life… I let go.
When he finally started to move, it was slow. Measured. Like he didn’t trust himself not to fall apart.
Pain threaded with pressure, breathlessness, and then something more—heatthat unfurled through me like flame meeting oxygen. It didn’t rush. Itbloomed—sharp at first, then spreading outward, melting muscle and bone into need.
He kissed me through every shift of his hips, every sharp intake of breath, whispering my name like it meant something sacred. Like it could save him.
