Antonio wanted to devour him.Swallow his moans.Fuck into the heat of him and never stop.He’d spent a lifetime being told that he didn’t know he was real.There was nothing more real than Declan.What he was.What they were together.
“Always,” Antonio echoed when Declan broke away for a gasping breath.
Couldn’t even say what he meant by it, only that it was true.This was for always, and he’d never want anyone the way he wanted Declan.
“So close.”Fucking perfect, how the fuckershookas he said it, the broken, needy edge to his voice.“Want to come on your cock.”
Somewhere along the line, Declan’d gotten a hand between them, and if he weren’t so busy kissing him, he’d have pulled back, so he could watch those dark-nailed fingers move over pale skin, bringing him off while Antonio fucked him.
“You’re gonna,” he gritted out, dragging down harder as he said it.“Come for me, Murderpunk.Let me feel you.”
The way Declanlet gofor him.All of him, he’d said.And he gave it.Kissed Antonio until he tasted salt and copper, burning like smoke.Rasped words in a language Antonio didn’t speak, between each urgent press of lips.
Not soft.Not pretty.But fucking gorgeous, yeah, Declan could be that.Raw and real and incomparable, like no one Antonio had ever known.Antonio took every frantic kiss, swallowed Declan’s groans, licked the unfamiliar words from his lips.Tasted his name,Antonio, sounding better in that lilting rasp than it ever had before.Like it’d been made for Declan to say.
Clenched heat around his cock, then spilling, wet between them.Declan shook and Antonio shook with him, holding on, fucking him through it.He wouldn’t last, no one could last in the face of this, but he teetered on the brink, holding himself back from following Declan over it.
Swallowing one last, eager kiss, he dragged the sluagh against him, chest to chest.Licked smoke and sweat from his skin and released one hand to guide Declan’s head to his shoulder.
“Fuck, Declan.Murderpunk.Meu paixão.”Christ, nowhewas the one speaking in tongues.Warm lips against his skin and he pressed a little harder, growling between ragged thrusts.“Use your teeth.All of you.”
All his.The ache of pointed teeth on bruising skin.The sting of nails.Tightness and heat.Declan’s satisfaction, histrust, singing through their bond.Purring like a well-tuned engine.
Antonio gave himself to it.Inevitable.They were inevitable.It was always meant to be like this.
He growled against Declan’s shoulder, bit down with his final, urgent thrusts, not lost to pleasure so much as found.Full throttle.Shifting up through the gears.
“Declan.Murderpunk.Christ.Fuck.”
Fuckingflying.
Held on long after the aftershocks started to ease.Should’ve let up but didn’t.“Need a minute.”
Declan didn’t seem to mind.Draped an arm over Antonio’s shoulder, cheek pressed to the skin he’d bruised so well.“Not going anywhere.”
“Shoulda been doing this all week,” he said and held on.“You’re incredible, Murderpunk.Been fucking obsessed.Still am.”
They stayed just like that.Not talking, just holding onto each other, as close as it was possible to be.Stayed as euphoria gave way to all the little discomforts.The ache where his hand gripped bone.The sting of sweat in fresh cuts.The burn of his thighs.Even then, as he shifted his hand to Declan’s back and finally slid free, it felt better than anything Antonio had ever known.
Declan sighed quietly, his lips brushing over Antonio’s shoulder.“May I heal you?We’re a bit of a mess, and your shoulders will color impressively.”
Almost, Antonio said no.He liked the idea of wearing the marks of Declan’s pleasure on his skin.He also liked the idea of going another round in the morning without opening up barely closed cuts.
“Better you than Faerie.I’d hate to see what it’d come up with for a bandage.”
Declan snickered as he sat back, his fingertips coming to rest along Antonio’s collarbone, there above the bells.
“Some fae could manage this with a thought.But I fear healing isn’t in my nature.”
Weird, to feel magic on him, and not mind it so much.Stinging cuts soothed by smoke, then whole again.A fae, undoing the damage to skin Antonio had covered with marks meant to repel him.
“Don’t mind the ink, alright?”he murmured.“Wasn’t thinking I’d end up with a sluagh in my lap when I got ‘em.”
And maybe he emphasized the point by slipping his hand down to the curve of Declan’s skinny ass.Worth it, just to feel him.
“I rather like your tattoos.”Declan’s words remained low and lazily content.His fingers followed a new cut, down Antonio’s arm.“You have a story.I see them as you telling your story to fuck right off.Shifting the genre while wearing themincrediblywell.”
“Might get a new one, now.Story keeps changing.”Antonio was drowsy with contentment, words threatening to slur as he relaxed against Declan.“Like this part best.”
