He’s coming. Our Grá Croí is coming to us.
Reaper stopped just behind him. “This better not hurt like a son of a bitch.”
Cian snorted a laugh. “There are worse things than pain, a stór.”
Reaper’s exhale brushed over his skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. “Yeah. I know.”
The water lapped at Cian’s waist as he turned carefully. Reaper’s muscles were coiled like a spring ready to snap. Even though the bond between them pulsed and demanded, he didn’t reach for him—not yet. Instead, he let his gaze drag over Reaper’s body, the way the water clung to the sharp angles of his hips, the way his chest rose and fell too fast. “You’re thinking too hard.”
Reaper’s jaw tightened. “Yeah? And you’re not?”
A smirk tugged at Cian’s lips. “I’m thinking about how good you’re going to feel when I finally get my hands on you.”
Reaper’s breath hitched, and his pupils blew wide.
The soothing water of the bonding pool was working its magic, and Cian finally allowed himself to believe that this might actually happen. He closed the distance in one step, his body pressing against Reaper’s, and the water sloshed around them. He gripped the back of Reaper’s neck and crashed their mouths together.
His Grá Croí growled deep in his throat. His hands shot up, fingers digging into Cian’s shoulders, pulling him closer. The kiss was all teeth and heat, desperate and messy, their breaths mingling as Cian deepened it, his tongue sweeping into Reaper’s mouth.
Reaper kissed like he fought, hard and unrelenting, as if he was trying to burn something out of himself. Cian met him stroke for stroke, their bodies pressing tightly together, the water swirling around them. Their bond flared, a white-hot flash of desire swept through him, and he groaned into the kiss, his hands sliding down Reaper’s back, nails digging into his hips.
Reaper broke away with a gasp, his chest heaving. “Fuck?—”
Cian spun them, pressing Reaper back against the smooth stone at the pool’s edge, his mouth crashing down again, his teeth grazing Reaper’s lower lip. Reaper’s hands fisted in his hair, yanking hard enough to sting, but Cian just growled, his hips rolling against Reaper’s, the friction maddening through the water between them.
Reaper’s legs spread wider, his thighs bracketing his hips, and Cian felt the moment Reaper stopped fighting it. The way his body arched into the touch, the way his breath came faster and rougher. His hands slid lower, gripping Reaper’s ass, lifting him just enough to grind their cocks together, the water doing nothing to ease the ache.
“Gods, this is unbelievably sexy,” Cian growled against Reaper’s mouth.
Reaper’s laugh was dark, breathless. “You love it.”
He did. He loved the way Reaper’s nails raked down his back, the way his teeth sank into his shoulder, the way his hips rolled up, demanding more. The bond between them was a storm, wild and untamed, and he was drowning in it, reveling in it. It was glorious, and he never wanted to stop.
He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down Reaper’s throat, his teeth scraping over the pulse point there. Reaper’s head fell back against the stone with a thud, his breath coming in sharp gasps as his mouth moved lower, over his collarbone, his chest, and his tongue flicked over one flat nipple.
Reaper’s hands flew to his hair again, gripping tight. “Cian?—”
He dropped to his knees in the water, “Yes, Mo Ghrá Croi?” Gods, he hoped he hadn’t changed his mind. Then he paused and glanced up at him from under hiseyelashes. He held his breath as Reaper searched his face. When Reaper cupped his cheek, he leaned into the touch, watching, waiting for whatever it was Reaper needed.
“I won’t break,” Reaper whispered. “Don’t hold back.”
Thank the gods.
His hands slid up Reaper’s thighs, his mouth following the trail of his fingers. Reaper’s breath hitched, his body tensing as Cian’s lips brushed over the hard length of him, his tongue swiping up the underside.
Reaper’s curse was raw and guttural, and his fingers tightened in Cian’s hair as he sucked him in deep. Reaper’s hips jerked, his breath coming in ragged bursts as Cian worked him, slow and deliberate at first, then faster, harder, until Reaper’s grip turned bruising.
“Cian—fuck?—”
He pulled off with a wet sound, his own cock aching, his balls painfully full, his body thrumming with need. He surged back up, capturing Reaper’s mouth again as he lifted him, pressing him back against the stone. Reaper’s legs wrapped around his waist. Their cocks slid together, the friction maddening, the water ramping up the heat between them.
The bond flared, and from the way Reaper’s body arched, the way his breath came in sharp, desperate gasps, Cian knew he felt it too, “Now, a stór,” He growled. “Before I lose what’s left of my control.”
Reaper’s nails dug crescents into Cian’s shoulders. His breath came in sharp, uneven bursts, his body coiled tight as a bowstring, but the bond demanded more. Reaper’s legs locked around his waist, his thighs flexing as Cian rolled his hips. The friction of their cocks sliding together in the water was both maddening and insufficient.
Reaper’s head thudded back against the rock, his teeth bared in something between a snarl and a gasp. “You’re killing me,” he bit out, but his hands gripped his hips, pulling him closer, harder.
Cian smirked against his mouth. “Enough that you want to stop?”
