“Fucking punk.”
Declan’s mouth found his collarbone, teeth grazing skin inked with bells.Down to his pecs, where the blackberries along his sides stretched thorny branches.
Every mark the same message.I don’t want you.Stay away.
But he’d asked for this.Asked for Declan’s protection.For his soul.Not the sale he’d first imagined, but a trade, like for like.Each heart beating in the other’s chest.Antonio’s every shuddering exhale carrying the smoke of Declan’s kiss.
“The marks you left on my neck.Can you see them?”
“Yeah.”Had to strain a bit, tip his head without the support of his arms.But could.Did.Wouldn’t miss watching Declan’s mouth on him for anything.“Look like you’ve been necking behind the bleachers.”Then, realizing this was Declan, who’d never been to high school, “Like your boyfriend’s too dumb and horny to keep it below the collar.”
Declan laughed softly, then pressed his teeth into the curve of Antonio’s hip, hard enough to mark.To bruise.
“You aren’t dumb.Though I’ll agree with horny.”He bit again, mouth heated and lips cool.“Thank the stars for that.”
Want and affection spilling like ink, leaving marks like Declan’s teeth.A tattoo high.A groan tore itself from Antonio’s throat as Declan’s hand found his cock, fit around him like it was made to be there.
Everything given.Taken.And Antonio bound, unable to do more than shudder and pant.
“You can thank the stars I’m not quite as young and dumb as I used to be.”Shuddering, overwhelmed, but grinning, too.“Wouldn’t’a lasted five minutes back then, a guy like you wanted to duck into the shadows with me.Woulda been on my knees during the halftime show, offering to suck you off to Sweet Caroline.”
“Sweet Caroline?Consider the stars thanked and the voids besides.Though I can't say I'd have turned you down.Not when I’d have been making eyes at you all night.”
Declan laughed, eyes dancing and predatory at once, and his neck bitten red.Perfect.Fucking perfect.Antonio laughed with him, at the idea of Declan making eyes at him as he had been, the lost, fucked-up teenager who’d just stolen his first car.
“You want Anarchy in the UK, take it up with the band director.”
Declan’s lips a splash of ink against the head of Antonio’s cock, his tongue a lick of flame.And the bastard washummingthe damned song.Antonio could hear it.Could fucking feel it, shivering down through Declan’s tongue.He writhed, trying to reach, to touch, and the cuffs tight on his wrists.
“Jesus Christ, Declan.Shit.You fucking troll.Christ.”
He’d neverlaughedduring a blowjob before.Bad form.But he was laughing now, with Declan whispering“Da da da”against his cock, the flare of his wings spreading Antonio’s knees.Laughing between groans and shaking gasps, until the slick, smooth head of the toy Declan had magicked into being teased against his ass.
Fuck.Fuck.All of it perfect, warm and right, and Antonio should maybe be nervous, hesitant at the newness of it.But all he felt was the bond,Declan.Lilacs dissolving into smoke, and maybe that’d be his next tattoo.Declan’s soul, worn on his skin.Or maybe it’d be the chorus of Sweet Caroline.Bastard.
“Hear that damned song–fuck–at every family barbeque.”Growled or gasped, and still, a smirk on his lips.“Not gonna be able to–Declan–keep a straight face.”
“Every couple needs a song,” Declan protested with a snicker.
Antonio reached for a response, got as far as, “You’re such a—”
Fuck.
Asked for.Wanted.But unfamiliar, that slick pressure.Tension yielding to slow insistence, not quite pain or pleasure.A need, more than anything.Yeah.A need.To move.To shift.To fuck up into Declan’s hand while giving way.The world was only this, was the heat of Declan’s tongue and the hum of his lips, the pleasure gone sharp and shining.Bone wings pressed into knees, cuffs pressed into his wrists, slickness pressed intohim.Antonio spread and spread and spread, and all for Declan.Wanting to be.
Gasping, he twisted his head to the side and dug teeth into his own shoulder, muffling a groan.
“Are you able to see me like that?”Declan asked.
Asked with a thrust in, then another, each met with a hitch in Antonio’s breath and a jerk that rattled the headboard.
Thing was, he couldn’t.The vision of Declan between his thighs was replaced by the far wall, and he saw his own golden-brown skin instead of Declan’s cracked porcelain.Irritating anyway, the blunt press of his human teeth into muscle, nothing like Declan’s ridged bite.
Just, fuck, needed something.A way to ground himself, because he’d not done this before.Not likethis, not tied and touched and waiting to be taken.Never set his trust in anyone, never wanted to.
Wanted to, now.Wanted it more with every measured stroke and firm thrust.Wanted Declan, to give him this or be given this, wasn’t even sure, two sides of the same coin and them walking on the edge.
Not yours.Not mine.Theirs.
