“The swim can wait,” he said, his voice dark with promise.
And I nodded, breathless, cock achingly hard, and desperate to feel him against me, in me. I wanted to climb him like a tree.
A soft chirp from my shoulder reminded us we had an audience. Before I could react, Nox launched himself into the air in a flutter of amethyst scales, landing on a low, obsidian wall a half-dozen yards away. He curled into a tight, dragon roll, deliberately turning his back to us while his head remained slightly cocked, a tiny, scaled sentinel granting us the illusion of privacy while steadfastly guarding our backs.
40
Angel’s mouthfound mine again. His hands slid down my back to grip my hips and grind us together. The hard ridge of his cock against mine sent a jolt of pure lightning through my veins.
I met his hunger with my own, my hands fisting in the waistband of his pants, pulling him impossibly closer. My fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans in the desperate need to feel his skin.
“Angel,” I begged between kisses, needing him.
“Jude,” he growled. His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide, reflecting the churning Veil sky. In one fluid motion, he hooked his hands under my thighs and lifted me. My legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, my heart hammering against my ribs as he carried me the few steps to the nearest flat surface, a wide, padded lounger nestled in the glowing moss.
He laid me back onto the soft cushion, the bioluminescent light casting his face in shifting shades of blue and violet. How did I deserve a man this beautiful? He loomed over me, a breathtaking silhouette of muscle and intent against the chaotic sky.
“Now,” he breathed, his voice a dark, delicious promise as he braced himself above me. “Where were we?”
I grabbed the collar of my shirt and yanked it over my head, tossing it aside into the glowing flora. His gaze burned a trail over my exposed skin, and the look in his eyes was the only answer I needed.
He kissed the hollow of my throat, lips pressed to my neck, collarbone, and lower as my heart beat with the frantic need for him. His touch was a searing brand of desperation as he licked a circle around each nipple, tweaking one before teasing the other. I thrust my hips up, begging for friction.
“Fuck, Angel.”
He could make me beg, and cry, and scream, and I’d keep coming back for more. My breath caught as he reached the waistband of my sleep pants. His eyes, dark and heavy with want, locked with mine as he made quick work of the button. When he finally peeled the fabric away and his hot breath ghosted over the length of my cock, tongue teasing over the precome soaked front of my underwear, I arched off the cushions again with a broken groan.
“Please,” I begged.
He sucked the head of my cock into his mouth, the damp fabric a maddening barrier that did nothing to reduce the heat. “Need something?” he teased, the words a vibration around me as his fingers slid down to cup my balls through the underwear.
A choked sound escaped me. My hand fisted in his hair to anchor myself. His dark eyes glinted with challenge as he looked up at me and retrieved a bottle of lube from the bedside table dropping it to the cushion beside us. Then he hooked his fingers in the band of my briefs and tugged them down, just enough to settle the fabric beneath my balls. The move framed my cock, hard and straining against the cool air, presenting it like a prize.
“Pretty,” Angel murmured, the admiration in his voice a low, possessive growl.
Then his mouth was on me again, the shocking wet heat of his tongue, and the tight seal of his lips sending me soaring. He took me deep, swallowing me to the root in one smooth, devastating motion that stole the air from my lungs. My hips jerked instinctively, my grip in his hair tightening as a ragged groan was torn from my throat. The world narrowed to the slick, perfect pressure of his mouth and the unwavering, knowing look in his eyes as he held me there, completely at his mercy.
His control allowed me to shatter without fear of coming apart. The threads between us weren’t just visible now, they sang a resonant hum of shared pleasure and absolute trust. Every flick of his tongue, every deep, rhythmic swallow, bobbing up and down, added layer upon layer of growing fire in my core. It was a reweaving, a reanchoring, stitching this new, raw vulnerability directly into the fabric of our bond.
A litany of broken phrases fell from my lips, his name, a plea, a prayer. I was unraveling, and the only thing holding me together was the man determined to take me apart.
“Holy fuck, Angel!” I was going to come apart in his arms, and that was exactly what I needed. As if my weave would splinter and mesh with his, and that made everything perfect.
He slid a finger beneath the fabric, teasing and careful for a few seconds before he found my rim and slipped inside, slick with lube. My head fell back with a choked gasp. He worked me open with a patient rhythm that had me pushing back against his hand, begging for more without words.
Then he crooked his finger.
A bolt of pure, white-hot lightning shot up my spine. My whole body jolted, a ragged cry tearing from my throat as he found that hidden spot inside me. He stroked over it again with unerring accuracy, each press sending another shockwave of pleasure through my nerves, coiling the tension in my gut tighter and tighter. I wanted him, needed him in me.
“That’s it,” he murmured, kissing up my body, all tongue, soft lips, and teasing bites, his voice dark with satisfaction. “Let go for me, Jude.”
“Want you in me,” I demanded.
He nipped my jaw, one hand stroking my dick, the other slipping a second and third finger in my ass. “Soon. Come first. I promise I’ll bring you again. And again, and again.”
The words unraveled my control, sending me in a spiral and half-scream as I came, and the world dissolved into sensation. The slick sound of his fingers moving inside me, the scent of his skin, the sight of the Veil’s sky churning above. My release painted stripes on my stomach in hot pulses, my vision whiting out at the edges. I gasped for air, clutching Angel’s hair hard enough it had to hurt, but he never complained.
Before the last tremor had even faded from my limbs, he was moving with a shifter’s swift, sure grace. Clothes were shoved out of the way, and he settled between my legs, hooking my thighs over his shoulders. The world narrowed to the feeling of his cock, a blunt, burning pressure at my entrance, already slick. He’d prepared while I was lost to the aftershocks.
