Except thisisreal. This man, this moment—this is my choice.
This is what I want the backside of twenty-three to look like.
I pull back slightly, looking up at him through my lashes. His eyes are hooded, pupils blown wide with desire. I hold his gaze as I run my tongue along the underside of his cock, slow and deliberate.
A muscle jumps in his jaw.
"You're going to kill me," he says, and there's something almost like wonder in his voice.
I smile around him, then take him deep again. His breath hitches, and I feel a surge of power. This is what June was talking about, I think. This willingness to give everything. Totake everything. To be exactly who we are with each other, no pretense, no performance.
His hand guides me now, setting a rhythm that's just on the edge of too much. I follow it willingly, eagerly. My jaw aches, my knees hurt against the hard tile, but none of that matters compared to the sounds he's making, the way his body responds to mine.
"Savannah," he warns, his voice tight. "I'm gonna blow down your throat if you don't?—."
He doesn't finish because I don't stop. Don't want to. I want all of him, every part he's willing to give.
His hand tightens in my hair as he comes with a groan that echoes off the tile walls. I take everything, swallowing around him, my eyes never leaving his face.
When he's spent, he pulls me to my feet, kissing me deeply despite where my mouth has just been. It's filthy and intimate and perfect.
"Your turn," he murmurs against my lips, and before I can respond, he's lifting me again, pressing me against the wall.
His fingers find me immediately, and I'm still so close from before that it takes almost nothing—just a few expert strokes and I'm coming apart, my nails digging into his shoulders, his name a broken sound on my lips.
We stay like that for a long moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other's air as the water begins to run cold. Legion reaches behind me to turn off the shower, and the sudden silence is deafening.
"I could get used to this," I say, not entirely meaning to speak aloud.
His eyes meet mine, serious now. "To what?"
"This," I gesture vaguely between us. "You. Me. Us."
Something flickers across his face—too quick to name. "You say that now," he says, helping me out of the shower, wrapping atowel around my shoulders. "But you haven't seen what this life really is yet."
I want to argue, to tell him I've seen enough. The violence, the loyalty, the way they operate outside the law but still have their own code.
But I know he's right. One day at the compound doesn't make me an expert.
One night with his brothers doesn't make me family.
I wrap the towel around myself, watching him as he dries off. His movements are efficient, practiced. No wasted motion. Everything Legion does has purpose.
"What?" Legion asks, catching me staring.
"I love you. That’s all.”
He freezes, towel in hand, water droplets still clinging to his skin. He doesn't say it back. Doesn't need to. I can see it in the way his eyes change, the way his body stills completely.
"I know you think I don't understand what I'm getting into," I continue, words tumbling out now. "That I'm just playing dress-up in your world. The little Ashby princess trying on outlaw life like it's another Instagram filter."
I step closer to him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin.
"But I'm not naive, Legion. I grew up in a war zone too—just one with better furniture." I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "You think your demons are so special? So unique? At least yours are honest about what they are."
My hand finds his chest, palm flat against the brand that marks him as Badlands. As brotherhood. As belonging.
"I know I'll fail you," I whisper, and his eyes narrow slightly. "Not because I want to. Not because I'm looking for an exit strategy. But because I'm human, and damaged, and sometimes I'll make choices that hurt us both."
