Though hiding that thing with Emile was more about protecting Julien’s blood pressure than Bellamy’s reputation.
“You can leave marks,” Bellamy says tonight. “As long as I can, too.”
“Yeah?” Rakos kisses the back of Bellamy’s neck as he slides the coat from his shoulders. He pauses at the strap on Bellamy’s left shoulder. “Where’s Bastard?”
“Lurking on Petunia’s roof, last I checked. Teodor has been feeding her.” Bellamy unloops the pouch from over his head. Too many layers still separate him from Rakos’s roving hands.
“Have you done this before?” Rakos asks.
“What do you think?” Bellamy groans and turns around in Rakos’s arms. “Don’t answer that. I’ve fooled around before, but nobody’s ever, um. Blown me. Is that the answer you wanted?”
“Any answer’s fine, sweetheart.” Rakos traces Bellamy’s lips with a fingertip. “I’d make you forget them anyway.”
“Forget who?” Bellamy asks, and Rakos’s laugh is unfairly delicious.
Casual,Bellamy tells himself as Rakos sinks to his knees. Except there’s nothing casual about that purr in Rakos’s voice, or the fierce anticipation in his eyes.
Staggering back, Bellamy braces himself against the cargo crates. The whole wagon shakes. Can the whole caravan hear and see this? Does everyone know what Bellamy and Rakos are doing?
Who cares? Let them listen.
Bellamy muffles his mouth under his own hand, more because he doesn’t know what else to do with it than to keep quiet. Because as Rakos shuffles forward on his knees and starts undoing Bellamy’s trousers, Bellamy is far too overwhelmed to make a sound.
Once Rakos moves, he doesn’t stop or slow. With minimal fumbling, he pulls Bellamy’s trousers from his hips, smallclothes and all. Bellamy’s cock bobs up against his stomach, already hard and leaking.
Anticipation ripples through Bellamy’s every nerve.
“It’s a shame.” Rakos’s breath brushes Bellamy’s heated skin. “It’s so dark in here, I can’t see every inch of you.”
Bellamy whimpers through his fingers as Rakos’s firm fingers encircle him in a ring of fire. The touch radiates through him. “You want to keep this casual. Are you already subtly angling for a second date?”
“Are you?” Rakos tightens his grip.
Bellamy whimpers again. “I have no idea what I’m thinking right now.”
“Good,” Rakos purrs. “When I’m done with you, you aren’t going to think aboutanything.”
“You arrogant—oh fuck!”
Bellamy’s yelp escapes his fingers as Rakos seals his mouth beneath his cock. His hand curves above Bellamy’s length, holding Bellamy steady with sweet overwhelming pressure while he licks the underside. The wet heat of Rakos’s tongue contrasts with the dry friction of his palm.
Though his palm isn’t dry for long, as Bellamy leaks from the stimulation. His hands fly to Rakos’s hair, then away, uncertain.
Rakos laughs, and the vibration nearly drives Bellamy over the edge. Bellamy’s hands fall back to Rakos’s hair. When he tightens his grip on the long locks, Rakos gives another destructive, pleased hum.
Bellamy doesn’t pull Rakos’s hair or direct him in any way. He doesn’t have the coordination for that. It’s simply an anchor to ground himself as Rakos shifts his grip to Bellamy’s hips—then swallows him whole.
A strangled cry echoes through Bellamy’s mind. He doesn’t know if he managed to make that sound aloud or not, or if it was muffled by his full-body shock. Rakos takes him to the root in a single swallow, and the pressure around his cock is so tight, so hot, Bellamy sees stars. Everything swims with light, as if the entire night is woven from magic.
Rakos was right. Bellamy can’t think aboutanythingright now.
Wet heat around his cock. Bruising grip on his hips. Bellamy’s own drumming heart, echoing louder and louder until there’s nothing left inside him but the sound. They aren’t thoughts. They’re a maelstrom of sensation and need.
Bellamy feels alive. He feels real. More than his name and weaknesses.
Rakos pulls away from him what could be hours later or mere moments. “You taste so good,” he rasps, then returns his incredible lips to Bellamy’s needy cock. He bobs at a shallower, quicker pace that still sets Bellamy’s head spinning.
“Rakos,” Bellamy exhales. “I’m not going to last.”
