Hurts.Heals.Breaks.Bonds.Bleeds.
Jules surges to kiss him.
Lachlan meets him halfway, sodesperatelycut open, made vulnerable by honesty.He knows the taste of this boy intimately, cannot ever get enough, wants it forever, wants to love him,love himso much that Jules will never, ever accept anything less, until love remakes them both.
‘I—I’m in love with you too,’ Jules chokes out and Lachlan knew deep down but hearing it just makes him insane, heart transforming into something just for Jules, only him,only him.‘I have been for so long,’ he sobs while Lachlan kisses away all the tears, swallows his sorrow to keep forever, will nourish it as it grows to make a garden in the dark.‘It hurts so bad.’
‘I’m sorry it hurts, baby.’
‘You love me?’
‘I love youso much,’he swears, breathlessly fervent.‘I can’t fucking believe you thought I was pretending.’
‘No one loves me,’ Jules whispers, lips still touching.‘Not really.Not—’
‘I do,’ Lachlan tells him, holding his face with two hands.‘Ido.’
Jules looks at him the way no one else on earth ever has.
Lachlan can feel himself being weighed and measured.It’s like this boy can see all the way inside him.
‘You do,’ Jules agrees, finally.‘You love me.’
‘Damned right.I love you so much, love you, love you,love you,’Lachlan promises, kissing the words deep.He’ll say it forever if that’s what Jules wants.He’ll find ways, new languages, newgodsto sanctify the bond.
He picks Jules up under the thighs and Jules is taller now, or he will be soon, but Lachlan’s stronger.
‘I am so fucking in love with you.’
Jules sinks his fingers into Lachlan’s hair.
‘Show me.’
Lachlan drives him backwards through another kiss, hands locked hard at Jules’ waist while the boy melts into him.They stumble across the room together until the backs of Jules’ knees hit the mattress and momentum sends them crashing softly onto the enormous bed.
‘You want that?’
‘I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.’
‘We don’t have to—’
‘I fuckingwant it,’Jules interrupts, pushy and bratty,God,Lachlan’s so gone for him it’s ridiculous.‘I want it, so don’t you dare pull out the wishy-washy bullshit with me, Bodyguard.You’re not my first.’
Lachlan kisses him all over, shrugs out of his shirt and then has a brief resurgence of sufficient sanity to tell Danya through radio that he’s getting a few hours rest, no interruptions unless it’s serious.
‘Heard, Kestrel,’Danya confirms.
Lachlan drops his rig on the floor when he pulls it off, then leans up on his knees to unbuckle his belt.
Jules’ hands roam freely over his chest, his sides, all the scars.
‘They make me so sad,’ the boy whispers, so ravaged by feelings, this one.Lachlan pulls out his belt, pushes down the waistband but stops before anything can pop out.He bends again to renew the stream of kisses, to make new ones, fresh ones, wet and delicious, each one is a promise, each one is a star in the new sky, ink still wet.
‘Pretend they’re seams, not scars,’ he tells Jules.‘Pretend I was gone and someone sewed me up again and I came back.’
‘That’s notbetter, Lachlan,’ Jules tells him, voice rumbling with mild anger.Lachlan’s mouth splits wide into a grin, jaw lax to trail wet marks of possession where he shouldn’t.Teeth and tongue, this boy ishisand Lachlan will obliterate anyone who tries to make it otherwise.‘You’re not amonster.You’re—ahhh, oh fuck!’
Lachlan sucks a bruising mark into soft flesh, knows it’ll show, doesn’t fucking care.‘I am, though,’ he whispers like it’s a secret.‘I’m a monster, Jules.’
