1
clingier than usual
Kit’s elbows ached against the dining table, and sweat stung past his eyes. He already came what felt like an hour ago, barely able to whimper as James drove the breath from his lungs. Now, sore and sensitive, Kit could only bend over and wait for James to finish.
All the little discomforts would have been annoying on their own. Together, they lifted Kit into inhuman bliss. Even better than the orgasm itself, Kit was so fucked out and loopy that nothing scared him.
Not even—
“Fuck, I love you,” James murmured against Kit’s shoulder, between wet, sharp kisses. “Want to call in tomorrow, so I can stay inside you all night. All day.”
Kit whined as James ground into his oversensitive prostate. His cock twitched despite its exhaustion. “You’re literally the boss. Nobody’s stopping you.”
“That’s right. Nobody.” James touched Kit’s sides and shoulders. Pinned Kit’s hands to the table. “I’ll let you have your phone, but you’ll be shaking too much to text. When that little twerp texts you, you’ll have to call him back, and—”
Kit was too breathless to laugh. “Thought we weren’t supposed to talk about Holden in bed.” Because things were still tense. Because James was even clingier than usual, blaming himself for Holden abducting Kit right in front of him.
James rocked deep into Kit. “We’re not in bed. This is the dining table.”
They were running out of furniture they could use for polite company.
Kit couldn’t muster a thought, much less a reply. He didn’t need to. He just needed James to fuck him stupid, and James was always happy to oblige.
“Close, pretty boy,” James panted. “I’m close.”
As if Kit didn’t know the signs. James drove in faster, hard enough Kit would think he might split open if he could think at all. Then with a ragged groan, James shuddered to a halt. His forehead dropped between Kit’s shoulder blades.
He kissed Kit’s back, right behind his heart.
When James finally pulled out, cum and lube spilled with him. James massaged the filthy mixture around Kit’s tender hole.
“Do you want a shower, babe? Or do you want to hold my cum for a few hours?”
Kit arched into James’s fingers. It was too much. He wanted more. “Will you be in the shower?”
James squeezed Kit’s ass before stepping away. “What kind of boyfriend would I be, letting you shower unsupervised?”
Kit straightened up and leaned gingerly against the table. New aches and bruises pinged his awareness with every movement. The pangs kept him in the blissed-out, thought-free haze.
He was naked except for one sock that hadn’t quite made it off. James was naked too, which was rare. Usually, they were too impatient to shed all their clothes before fucking, and one or both would end up half-dressed.
Which resulted in a lot of dirty clothes. At least, for all his posturing in front of Darius, James did know how to do laundry. He’d even shown Kit how to use his machines, even though as he put it, his pretty little trophy boyfriend shouldn’t have to lift a finger.
Being mildly useful made Kit feel better about the whole freeloading thing.
Still naked, James padded into the kitchen. His phoenix tattoo seemed to flicker and burn with every movement. Kit resisted the urge to call him back, because okay, fine. He’d been feeling clingy recently too.
Which was worrisome.
Kit had never had so many people to depend on. The first person he ever relied on was the worst person he’d ever met.
James returned with a damp dish towel. Instead of cleaning Kit up, he dropped the towel on the table and drew Kit into a perfect, suffocating kiss.
“You look far away,” James said, cupping both hands behind Kit’s head. “What are you thinking about?”
Kit touched James’s wrists. Feather-light pressure held them both in place.
“I think I want a gun,” Kit said quietly.
