Antonio pushed himself up on his elbows, took Declan in with undisguised hunger.The bitten curve of his neck, red on white, interrupted by cracks of pale gray.His bare chest, rising with each breath, and the dark peaks of his nipples, hard from Antonio’s attention.Harsh lines, ribs and hips, all sharp angles.Black jeans, unbuttoned and half unzipped, revealing the shape of his cock, straining against the fabric.
“Fuck, I love the look of you,” he said, voice rough with sincerity.He shifted back, settling more squarely on the bed.“C’mere, Murderpunk.Let’s see if you like how I sound.”
Declan could’ve teased, was a bastard like that.But he didn’t.Climbed into Antonio’s lap like he needed it just as much.Worn denim against bare thighs and strong hands on his shoulders.Antonio let himself be pushed back, eager for the sweet sting of Declan’s kiss.
Nothing was as right as this, Declan’s hungry mouth on his and those nails skating over his skin.All of it making him groan with want, the sound drawn from his throat like breath, and Declan the only oxygen he needed.
“Bloody love the taste of you,” Declan rasped, his hands as cool as his mouth was hot.“Do you think, after you’ve come, when you’re shaking and covered in my marks, you might be open to my freeing your hands?”
“Making a lot of assumptions there, Murderpunk.Haven’t evengotmy hands yet.”
Declan’s fingers closed around his wrist at that.There it was, that solid, irresistible strength, Antonio pulling back just for how good it felt to be completely fucking overpowered.Because Declanwasdeath at the heart of it.And death was little more than the brute strength of a body giving way.
“Haven’t I?”Declan asked, forcing Antonio’s arm up, and keeping it there.“Yes or no?I’d like your hands on my wings while I finish.I’m utterly lost when you hold them the way you do.”
“Fuckingfae.Christ, Murderpunk.Yes.Never let go if I could get away with it.”
Declan’s hand at his other wrist, now.Again, Antonio struggled.Again, Declan won.Took control.Because Antonio had asked him to.Because for once in his life, he needed this.To be held, to be taken, without anything being takenaway.
“They aren’t generally considered appealing.”Declan’s expression was hard to read.“I never expected anyone to wish to touch them.”
It’d be easier to answer if Declan didn’t have him pinned to the bed.If he could think beyond how much he wanted this.
“Bone.”Real eloquent.“It’s–Jesus, Declan–We’re all fucking bone, yeah?Skin and blood and bone, and that’s the one no one sees, no one touches.But you let me.Let me wrap my hands around them and hold you to the bone.”
Declan leaned over him, eyes bright, catching both wrists in one hand.
“It’s only you to touch them, Antonio,” His voice was so beautifully shredded.“You to hold them.No one else.”
Only him.No one else.Antonio didn’t echo the words, sweet as they were, because from Declan they were a gift of trust, but from him they’d be possession.He didn’t want that.He wanted to lift Declan up, give him the world he always should have had.
(He couldn’t, knew he couldn’t, but he wanted to.)
Instead, he said the only thing he could think to say.The only further surrender he knew how to give, with Declan already above him, holding him, sure as death.
“Can use your magic, Declan.On me, for tonight.S’alright if it’s you.If it’s us.”
Declan didn’t make a thing of it.Paused, those pale, pale eyes locked on Antonio’s face, but only that.Maybe that was what made it possible in the first place.
“You’re too kind,” Declan said, lips brushing Antonio’s as he spoke.“Here I was, trying to decide how to keep you down and get them on you properly.”
Said as the cuffs found Antonio’s wrists all on their own, coiled around them and pulled tight.Antonio’s breath came sharp.Not passion, this time.The present brushing against the past, current pleasure and old pain.
Declan’s lips on his.The tightening of padded leather on skin.Cool fingers on the exposed skin of his wrists, between the bracelets and the cuffs.He wore what Declan had given him, cuffs and metal and marked skin, and nothing else.
“Give a tug on them for me, tell me your color?”
Tugging felt good.Able to put his strength behind it, and still be held secure.This time, the shiver down his spine was purely hunger.
“Hit yellow.Headed back to green.”Defeated the whole fucking purpose if he lied about it.“’m more than alright.Don’t want ‘em off.Just… need back into the moment.Kiss me again?”
Had to ask, because he couldn’t act.Because he’d put himself here, willingly, and that’s what it meant.Trusting and having that trust kept.
Declan kissed him the way only he kissed, tasting of burnt flowers and risky decisions, that tattoo high of him.Antonio pulled against the cuffs again, more than a cursory attempt this time, arching up under Declan with the fruitless effort of it.
“Green.”Offered as he fell back against the mattress.“Green and I want you to fuck me.”
“I think we can manage that, beefcake.”The bastard grinned at him, all teeth and wandering eyes, his hands tracing over the length of Antonio’s bound arms.
