There was no waiting for him to adjust. I began to move, my hips snapping forward with a bruising cadence. The sound of our slick bodies slamming together was rhythmic, a deafening echo in the empty room.
“Look at me, Silas,” I commanded, my hand gripping the base of his throat. It wasn’t to choke him, but to hold him completely still under me. “Look at your husband.”
He forced his eyes open, and the look he gave me could have me swearing loyalty to Satan himself. His gaze was glassy, a little unfocused, yet filled with a dark unrelenting worship.
“You belong to me. Every single inch of this body ismine. No one else’s. It’s my job to fuck you into the mattress. Tell me who owns you, Si.” I thrust deeper, hitting the exact spot inside him that made his limbs go rigid.
“You, you do!” Silas sobbed, a tear falling as I pounded into him with ruthless speed. “Cal,fuck.It’llalwaysbe you. Please,harder.I need it harder.”
I increased my pace, my already minimal self-control snapping entirely in the face of his submission. I was a machine, driving into him with a strength that made the wooden bed frame rattle against the drywall. Each one of Silas’swhimpers turned into loud, shattered cries with every single downward thrust of my hips. He was completely at my mercy, not only taking every ounce of my aggression, but my grief and love as well, absorbing it into his own body.
My pleasure was building in a way that was becoming entirely unmanageable. Too fast and too sharp. It brought on a blinding white light that exploded behind my eyelids. Si’s muscles clenched around me in a series of violent, rhythmic spasms, and I swear my heart stopped for a second.
“Cal! I-I-I…Fuck.”
His entire body went rigid, and on the next unforgiving and probably bruising thrust, I bottomed out against his prostate. Silas let out a fractured wail as his release shot out in thick ropes, splattering across his chest and abs.
The sight of him breaking detonated my own restraint. I let out a guttural moan against his neck and slammed my hips forward one last time to pour my cum deep inside of him. My orgasm was so explosive, it left my vision spotted with stars and my limbs feeling weightless.
I collapsed forward against his bare chest, my forehead resting in the crook of his neck and my heart hammering a frantic beat against his ribs.
It took a while, but the second my brain semi-cleared from the haze of euphoria, I checked the time on my phone and felt my heart drop into my throat. We had exactlyforty minutesbefore our flight boarded, and here we were, naked, covered in sweat, and twenty minutes from the airport.
“Fuck, Silas! Move your ass!” I thew the duvet off and scrambled out of the bed.
There was no time for a shower, so we used a damp hand towel to quickly wipe up the worst of the sweat and fluids. It was a blur of motion as we threw our clothes back on and tried to get out the door. Silas laughed the entire time, his face a bright red as he tried to hop on one foot while pulling his sweats over his sticky thighs.
“I told you we were going to be late!” he scolded lightly, completely out of breath as he ran down the hallway behind me.
“Shut up and run, Reed!” I yelled back through a laugh.
We had to sprint through the terminal, ducking past startled tourists and airport security like madmen. Just as the attendant was preparing to close the door, we burst through the gate. Handing over our boarding passes, we stood there panting like we just finished a fifty-minute Iron Man match.
As we walked down the narrow bridge toward the plane, the sheer absurdity of the few hours finally hit us. We burst into a fit of breathless laughter, leaning against the curved plastic walls of the tunnel just to keep from falling over.
“I can’t believe we just did that.” Silas wiped a tear from his eye as we found our seats in the first-class cabin. “We are thirty and thirty-two years old, and supposed to be professionals. Yet, we almost missed our flight because you wanted to fuck me on an unmade mattress in an empty house.”
“It was an excellent use of our time, and you know it.” I smirked, buckling my seatbelt before reaching across the armrest to take his hand.
When the flight took off, the hum of the jet engines provided a steady, white-noise backdrop to the cabin. Silas leaned his head against the headrest, a soft, content smile on his lips as he looked over at me.
“You know,” he mused, his voice dropping into a playful register. “All this talk about the War Zone match got me thinking. We haven’t actually worked as a formal tag team in almost a decade. Not since the early days.”
I smiled, a wave of nostalgia hitting me. “Nobody could touch us.”
He chuckled, “I loved tagging with you. It was amazing knowing you were always in my corner. But honestly? I much prefer fighting you.”
“Si, I feel like that’s highly frowned upon now that we’re legally married, and the entire world knows we’re sharing a bed.”
Silas shrugged, a boyish pout forming on his lips as he looked at me. “But hitting you with steel chairs was literally the absolute highlight of my career. You sell a chair shot better than anyone in the business. It was so therapeutic.”
“Wow, you dick,” I laughed loudly, leaning across the armrest to shove his shoulder playfully. “I’m glad my concussion history was therapeutic for your emotional growth.”
“You know what I mean.”
We landed in Boston late that evening. The air was crisp, smelling of salt water and car exhaust as the city lights reflected off the dark surface of the harbor.
After checking into the hotel and finding our room, I sent a quick text to Evan and Lena to let them know we had arrived. I hadn’t even finished unpacking my shaving kit before the hotel room door practically came off its hinges with a power kick.
