“You are...” Wesley’s brain was incapable of eloquence, so he simply said, “...enchanting,” and really, it was the truth however one looked at it.
Sebastian smiled, and Wesley realized he was carding fingers through Sebastian’s hair, almostpettinghim, for fuck’s sake, what the hell did he think he was doing?
Except Sebastian had tilted his head into Wesley’s hand, and his golden-brown eyes were warm and content, so maybe, just maybe, Wesley wasn’t completely fucking up. Maybe he could just—enjoy the moment as the afterglow slowly faded. That’s what people did, wasn’t it? It was practical, when one needed to catch one’s breath, and Sebastian had just left him out of breath and absolutely wrecked and was now sprawled contentedly on top of Wesley like there was nowhere he would rather be.
Wesley needed to say something and quickly, before he had a feeling about that. “Not an hour ago you couldn’t hold your magic back in a crowded lounge, and now you’ve managed to perfectly wield it with a cock in your mouth. Quite the improvement.”
“Because a very handsome and thoughtful viscount took me up to the top of Manhattan to let go,” Sebastian said. “I couldn’t have done it without being more in control of my magic, so it’s actually the viscount’s fault, if you really think about it.”
Wesley had to smile. “So I did all of this to myself, is that what you’re saying? I’m reaping what I sowed—”
Wesley cut himself off, but it was too late. Shit. He was most certainly having a feelingnow.
“You had it coming,” Sebastian said, blithely unaware of Wesley’s internal crisis. Then his gaze turned more serious. “If you ever don’t want me to use magic—”
“Oh, Christ,” Wesley muttered. “Are we seriously going to have this patently unnecessary conversation?”
“It’simportant—”
“If I ask you to stop, will you stop?”
“Always.” Sebastian said it like a vow.
“Then that’s settled,” said Wesley. “Good talk.”
Sebastian snorted. His waves were in disarray from Wesley’s fingers. The deep green of the robe brought out the warmth in his olive skin. He was tracing patterns on Wesley’s chest, a bit of ink peeking out from under the cuff of the robe. The top of the rampant lion, clear to Wesley’s eyes and his alone.
And it was fine, all of it, Wesley could handle this, because afterglow wasn’tcuddlingand it wasn’tsentiment. It was—it was a no man’s land between sex and everything else, where touch and perhaps even a fleeting feeling was allowed. No need for these internal crises over it.
Wesley brushed his fingers over the stubble on Sebastian’s jaw. “I would make any number of depraved faery bargains to have you inside me, preferably an hour ago, but I’d settle for now.”
Sebastian’s smile was fond and a tiny bit wicked, and then they were kissing again.
Chapter Eleven
“Sebastian, get up. Getup.”
The urgency in Wesley’s voice woke Sebastian with a start. He blinked for a moment, disoriented and lost. He could hear shouting out in the hall and pounding on their door.
And then, he smelled it.
Smoke.
“Come on.” Wesley was pulling him from the bed to his feet, his grip tight.
The pounding on the door intensified. “Sir, you have to evacuate, everyone on the floor needs to get out.”
Somewhere in the hall, a woman shrieked.
“Why is it always fire?” Wesley was scrambling into his silk striped pajamas, yanking the shirt over his head.
“Sir!” The voice came at the suite’s door again, tinged with panic. “We’re evacuating!”
“Clothes,” Sebastian started, but Wesley was already throwing his robe Sebastian’s way. Sebastian hastily pulled it on as Wesley strode to the hotel suite’s door and opened it a couple inches.
“I’m up, I’m leaving,” he barked at the man on the other side. “Go wake the next room.”
The smell of smoke was worse with the door open. Sebastian grabbed his shoes in one hand. He waited a beat for Wesley to go first, and then followed out into the hall. The smoke hung thick in the air of the hall, and he couldn’t tell where it was coming from. There was no heat he could make out, no crackling of flames indicating the source.
