White flashes behind my closed eyes. All the world is Robin and that sound—that sound he makes. All the world is Robin and his sexuality, Robin and the taste of his kisses, Robin and the freedom I crave, and Robin…
My hand slides into his silken hair, a growl rips out of him at the touch, and it ends me. He ends me. The orgasm bursts out of me, he releases my throat, and I gasp fresh air, deep and plentiful into my burning lungs, the pleasure obliterating the pain, a knife edge that multiplies each a thousand times over. He takes me, all of me, his mouth moving in time with my trembling body, his fingers etching bruises into my thigh. And he takes me. All of me.
Then he spits into the palm of his hand.
His kiss lands on my thigh. A smarting bite follows. I hiss at the pain, and his other hand slaps down on my thigh, rolls me onto my side.
He’s behind me.
Hot cum drips over my ass, his fingers sink into me, and I’m gasping for air again and already. His chest presses hard into my back, his teeth pull at my ear, and he whispers, “Tell me it’s me.”
Teeth on my neck, and there isn’t an inch of skin he won’t mark tonight.
I’ll wear it like a trophy. Every cut and bite and bruise a memory of how much he wanted me to say it again.
He takes a fistful of my hair, presses his dick against me. He toys with me, forcing the tip in, voice low, lips against the shell of my ear. “Tell me…”
Like they have a mind of their own, my fingers curl around his thigh, closing on hard muscle, and I wrench him in.
He fights me, curves his pelvis away, pulls my hair so he can turn my face and force another smarting kiss. He drives two fingers deep into me, and I can’t do a thing to stop the hard breath that escapes my lips. He smothers it, fucking his fingers into me, wrecking me, taking me all to pieces.
When my hand touches his face, it’s not a caress. When the groan ekes out of me, it’s not a plea for more.
He’s made me come. I should kick him out now. Ishouldn’t let him.
“Marco,” he rasps, and it slides down my back, fusing in my spine, growing my nerves all anew, all of him spreading through me. He pulls my ass wide, pressing his cock into me. “Eres lo mejor que me ha pasado en mucho tiempo. Eres todo lo que quiero.”You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in so long. You’re everything I want.
I let his words drown me, annihilate me, eviscerate me. The sweet sound of his voice, the breath of home. The perfect, hard and unyielding masculinity of him filling me.
Just one night.
“Robin…” I hate that I said his name. I hate that it sounds so broken, like a plea. “Robin…”
“It’s me,” he insists. He fucks into me, hard and enormous and dominating. He kisses me over and over, my cheek, my neck, my lips. “I’m the one you want. Say it.”
A noise that sounds too much like confirmation rumbles in the back of my throat.
“Fuck, Marco.”
The way his hand curves around my ass, squeezes into the muscle, the way his body shudders, the way his lips don’t once stop savoring their press to my skin—it’s all a daydream of softness and beauty and something wrong that has no place here.
This should be sex. It should be cheap and nasty, and I shouldn’t let him do this.
But some stupid, awful part of me grabs hold of the back of his head, twists to him, and I kiss him back. A hungry moan rips out of him, and he fucks me harder. He feels like heaven. His legs tangle in mine, his feet press against mine, his thighs wrap me, curling over me. He’s so firm and so powerful, and so safe.Toosafe. “Robin…”
His hand slides around my waist, over my stomach, up to my chest, slow and reverent. It lands on my heart, pulling me tight against him. The beat of it rebounds against his wide palm, and he presses his chest into my back, kisses my neck, behind my ear, a shock of ecstasy coursing through my body. His entire being shakes with every thrust, his enjoyment of me screaming above the shuddering breaths he ghosts across my wet skin, my name whispered over and over on his sweet lips.
My cock, hard again, begs for his touch, but his hand moves upward instead, settles back on my throat. “You’ll forgive me.” His breath comes commanding as he sinks into me, takes his pleasure from me, forces it into me. “You’ll choose me.” His fingers wrap tighter, squeezing the air out of me. “I’m taking you as mine.”
My soul disintegrates.
It falls out of me, the lot of it, a long and brutal and broken confession, all in our mother tongue. “I knew you from that first day. I knew you were Atrean born. I knew you as mine, and all I wanted was to keep you alive. I wanted you in my arms, and I can’t, Robin. This place. This awful place…”
“Marco…”
He keeps his iron control of me, and he fucks me like he owns me. The possessive fire of his eyes yesterday comes back on me, the anger and the violence, and it’s still all there, just beneath the surface, beneath the claspof his hand, but today he chooses to worship me with it. Today he’s Robin, the Robin I know inside, whose heart I’ve seen into. Whose heart I never should have seen into.
“Te elijo como mío,” he rasps.I take you as mine.And the orgasm comes for me, hard and fast, pleasure tearing through every vein and nerve and tendon, his broken voice like a song against my cheek. “Te elijo como mío.”
