"I want you." The words came out raw, unfiltered, stripped of the careful control I'd maintained since the claiming. "Not because of heat. Not because of instinct. Because I choose you."
He crossed the kitchen in three strides. His hands cupped my face, tilting it up, searching my eyes for any sign of hesitation.
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
He kissed me. Soft at first, questioning, giving me room to pull away. But I didn't want soft. I didn't want room. I wanted to feel him everywhere, to drown in him, to prove to both of us that what we had was real.
I fisted my hands in his sweater and pulled him closer.
The walk to the bedroom was a blur of stumbling steps and discarded clothing. Min-ho's sweater hit the floor in the hallway. My shirt followed somewhere near the door. By the time we reached the bed, I was down to nothing but skin, and Min-ho was pushing down his jeans with fingers that shook with barely restrained eagerness.
He laid me back against the pillows and covered my body with his, the weight of him warm and solid and exactly right. His mouth found my neck, my collarbone, the sensitive spot behind my ear that made me gasp.
"I want to see you," I said. "I want to watch you this time."
He pulled back, understanding immediately. This wasn't about being taken, being claimed, being overwhelmed. This was about choice. Control. Proving to myself that I could want this without losing myself in it.
Min-ho rolled onto his back and pulled me with him, settling me across his hips. His cock pressed hard against my ass, slick with pre-come, straining toward the place where our bodies would join. I braced my hands on his chest and looked down at him.
Hazel eyes gazed back at me, warm and steady and filled with a tenderness that forced me to look away. He was beautiful in the dim light, all hard muscle and scarred hands and an expression of such naked devotion that I had to look away.
"Don't." His voice was hoarse. "Don't hide from me. Let me see you."
I met his eyes again. Held his gaze as I wrapped my fingers around his cock. Held his gaze as I positioned him at my entrance, still slick and loose from the claiming, still open for him in ways that went beyond the physical.
I sank down slowly.
The stretch was exquisite. I felt every inch of him filling me, spreading me wide, pressing against places inside me that sparked with pleasure. Min-ho's hands found my hips, gripping hard enough to bruise, but he didn't thrust up into me. He let me set the pace. Let me take control.
When I was fully seated, his cock buried to the hilt, I stopped. Breathed. Let myself adjust to the overwhelming fullness. I felt the effort it cost him to stay still beneath me, every muscle trembling with restraint.
"Dalvin." My name on his lips was precious. Worshipful. "You feel incredible."
I rolled my hips experimentally. The movement sent sparks cascading up my spine, dragged a groan from Min-ho's throat that vibrated through both of us. I did it again. And again. Finding a rhythm, learning the angles, discovering what made him gasp and what made him curse.
His hands slid from my hips to my thighs, tracing patterns on my skin, encouraging without directing. I leaned forward and braced my hands on his chest, changing the angle, taking him deeper. The new position let me control the depth and speed of each thrust, let me ride him with a deliberation that was the opposite of our frantic coupling in the forest.
"Give me your hands," I said.
He obeyed without question. I laced our fingers together, palm to palm, and used the leverage to lift myself up and drop back down with more force. The sound he made was broken, desperate, beautiful.
We moved together in the darkness. Our joined hands anchored us, fingers intertwined, an unbroken circuit of connection.
"Harder," Min-ho gasped. "Please. I need—"
I gave him harder. Rode him with increasing intensity, my thighs burning with the effort, my cock bobbing between us, dripping onto his stomach. He was trembling beneath me, fighting the urge to thrust up and take control, giving me this even though it was clearly destroying him.
The vulnerability of it undid me.
I released one of his hands and wrapped my fingers around my own cock, stroking in time with my movements. Min-ho's freed hand immediately found my hip again, holding on like I was the only solid thing in a spinning world.
"I'm close," I warned him. "I'm so close—"
"Come for me." His voice cracked. "Let me feel you."
I shattered.
