Reaper’s answer was a feral growl that would have put Failinis to shame, before his teeth sank into his lower lip. The pain was sharp, and he loved it. Cian groaned, his hands sliding down to grip Reaper’s ass, lifting him just enough to change the angle, to make Reaper feel it—the ache, the need, the relentless pull of the bond.
The mark on his arm burned, the red lines flaring brighter, twisting like vines under his skin. He could see Reaper’s doing the same, the glow reflecting in the dark water as a mirror of their desperation.
Reaper’s breath hitched as Cian’s fingers traced the mark on his arm, following the swirling patterns from his wrist, up his arm, over his shoulder, and across his chest. “You feel that?” His voice was rough as his lips brushed the shell of Reaper’s ear. “That’s us. That’s the land, the magic, fate, and even the stars telling us I am yours and you are mine.”
Reaper’s body tensed. “I hate being told what to do.”
He chuckled. “Good. Fight me on it later.” His hand slid between them, wrapping around both their cocks, stroking once, twice, and Reaper’s breath stuttered, his hips jerking forward, chasing the friction. Cian’s thumb swiped over the head of Reaper’s cock.
Reaper cursed, his body arching into the touch. “Cian?—”
“Shut up and take it.” Cian’s voice was a growl, his grip tightening as he worked them both, the water swirling around their hips, doing nothing to ease the heat. Reaper’s back bowed off the stone, a broken sound tearing from his throat. But Cian didn’t let up. He stroked them harder and faster, his other hand gripping Reaper’s hip to hold him in place. He loved the sounds coming out of Reaper’s mouth, but there was only so much of them he could endure when his body was trembling on the edge of losing control. “That’s it,” he murmured against Reaper’s throat, his teeth grazing the pulse point there. “Let go.”
Reaper’s answer was a snarl, but his body betrayed him, his cock twitching in Cian’s grip, his release spilling between them in hot, thick spurts. Cian followed a second later, his own orgasm ripping through him, his body locking up as pleasure burned through his veins.
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their ragged breaths, the water lapping at their skin, the bond between them humming, satisfied but not yet sated.
Reaper’s chest heaved, his head still back against the stone, his eyes half-lidded, dark and dazed. Cian didn’t give him time to recover. He gripped his chin, forcing his gaze up, his thumb brushing over his lower lip. “We’re not done.” His voice was rough and filled with promise.
“You’re insatiable.”
“You have no idea.” He grinned at him. “I have waited many thousands of years for this moment.I figure we have a lot of catching up to do.”
“That will do it.”
He captured Reaper’s mouth in a bruising kiss, their tastes mingling, the bond demanding more.
Reaper’s legs wrapped around his waist again, their cocks sliding together, the water doing nothing to ease the friction or the heat. Cian groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping Reaper’s ass, lifting him, pressing closely to him.
The bond called, and Reaper broke the kiss with a gasp, his head falling back, his body arching into Cian’s touch. “Now,” he bit out, his voice rough and desperate. “Now, damn you.”
Cian didn’t need to be told twice when Reaper turned and leaned over the edge of the pool. His hands slid under Reaper’s thighs, lifting him up and spreading him open for him. He lined himself up until his cock pressed against Reaper’s entrance, and then slowly he pushed in.
Reaper’s breath hissed out between his teeth, his fingers scrambling for purchase on the stones, his body tensing. Cian didn’t stop. He kept going, inch by inch, until he was fully seated, until Reaper’s body surrounded him, hot and tight and mindblowingly perfect.
For a moment, they both stilled, their breaths coming in harsh pants. Then Reaper glanced over his shoulder and snarled. “Move, damn you.”
He leaned over Reaper and intertwined their fingers, then pulled back and thrust in hard. Ittook a couple of tries before they hit the right rhythm, but gods, when they did, it was hotter, wilder, and more exhilarating than any battle… than anything he’d ever experienced before.
Reaper’s breath came in sharp, desperate gasps, his fingers flexing around his. “More,” his voice a growling demand as he lifted his ass to meet him stroke for stroke.
Cian obliged and snapped his hips forward, his cock pistoning in and out, the bond between them flaring brighter with every thrust, every gasp, and every broken curse. The night air filled with the erotic scent of sex, pine, and something wilder.
He pressed kisses to every inch of skin he could reach, his hips never slowing, never stopping. He could feel the magic calling to the bond. It was in every thrust and every broken sound that tore from their throats. Just as he could feel the moment Reaper’s body tightened, the moment his release crashed over him, his body clenching around his cock like a vise. He buried his face in Reaper’s neck, where it met his shoulder.
“A stór.” His words were ragged gasps. His orgasm ripped through him a second later, his body locking up as pleasure burned through his veins, his body trembling with the force of Reaper’s third orgasm of the night, sealing their fate forever.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of their hearts pounding in sync, and the bond between them humming, completely satisfied.
They both winced as Cian withdrew and sank into the water, tugging Reaper down with him. He settled his Grá Croí between his legs with his head resting on his shoulder, and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Are you okay?”
“Mmh.” Reaper’s fingers tangled in Cian’s hair, yanking his head down, forcing him to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark and sated but filled with rawness and terror. “Don’t.” His voice was rough, his breath still uneven. “Don’t you dare think this changes anything.”
Cian’s smirk was slow and lazy, his body still figuring out which way was up. “Too late, a stór.”
Reaper’s growl was a low warning, but there was no heat behind it. His fingers flexed in Cian’s hair, his gaze lifting to his mouth, then lower, to the mark on his chest where the shape of the wolf’s head had changed to blue.
Cian shuddered at the tingling when his mate touched his mark and wondered if Reaper would feel the same. His fingers traced the mark on his skin, and in his head, Failinis rumbled with satisfaction and happiness. “We’re bound.” His thumb brushed over the swirling patterns. “No take-backs.”
