He pulled back just enough to speak, breath rough against wet skin. “Please what?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Fuck me.”
“Ask properly.”
I groaned, half frustration, half need. “Declan, please fuck me. I need you inside me. I need it hard. I need you to make it quiet.”
There was a beat where all I heard was his breathing.
Then he stood.
His hand came around my throat, not squeezing, just resting there while he kissed the side of my neck and reached into the drawer beside him with the other. Lube. Thank God for organized men with filthy habits.
His fingers were slick when they found me. One pushed in slow, then another, his mouth at my neck the whole time. He sucked a mark under my ear and I shuddered against him, body opening in pulses, needy and impatient.
“Breathe,” he said.
“I am.”
“You’re holding it every time you want to rush.”
“I hate being observed.”
“No, you don’t.”
I laughed, but it came out broken when his fingers curled.
“Asshole,” I whispered.
He bit lightly at my shoulder. “Again?”
“No. Sir.”
The word hit us both.
It had been a while since I’d used it. Not because we’d stopped, but because things had shifted and stretched around us. Tonight it came back without performance, without the sharpness of early power games. It came from somewhere deeper. An answerto a question my body had been asking since I walked through the door.
Declan’s forehead pressed to the back of my neck. “Good.”
Not boy. Not habit. Just good.
I shook under it.
He withdrew his fingers and I heard fabric shift behind me, the slick sound of his hand on himself. Then the blunt head of his cock pressed against me.
I looked over my shoulder as much as I could. “No condom.”
His face was flushed, control frayed but present. “Jace.”
“I mean it. We’ve both tested. We’ve been only each other since...” I swallowed. “Since this became this. I want to feel you. All of you.”
His hand tightened on my hip. “This is a decision, not a heat-of-the-moment reward.”
“I know.”
“We can go back at any time.”
“I know.”
