I try to shift without disturbing him, purely out of habit, and his hand tightens on my arm straight away, a reflex that says “stay where you are.”
“Where,” he says, his voice rough.
“Nowhere,” I answer. “Niko will be here soon. We should seriously think about moving.”
He makes a sound that could mean anything; his grip loosens slightly, and I take my time, peeling his fingers away slowly and sliding out of bed.
I pull on joggers, a jumper, and switch the kettle on. I hear Ari shifting in bed behind me, then the next thing I know, he’s standing behind me. His hands slide to my hips, and I let him because it’s easier than pushing him away, and it’s what I want anyway, which is the part I don’t say out loud.
While the kettle boils, I turn enough to look at him. His eyes are clear, and there’s a moment where I think he’s going to make a joke, something biting and light, but he doesn’t. Instead, he steps in, grips my jaw with one hand, and kisses me.
It’s not one of his soft or lazy kisses. It’s a direct assault from his mouth to mine, and I respond automatically because there’s nothing in me that knows how to hold back from him when he does that. So, my hands go to his arse, and I pull him closer.
The kiss deepens slowly but not gently, and when he breaks it, he stays close enough that my breath hits his mouth. “Mm, morning detka,” he murmurs, and then he kisses me again.
We make coffee. Every time I reach for something, he’s there, touching me, his hand on my lower back, fingers gripping the back of my neck — all of it casual and second nature at this point.
I try not to look at the clock, and I fail, because my eyes keep flicking to the place where it sits on the shelf, and the fact that I’m watching it doesn’t change anything except my own patience, and Ari notices because he notices everything.
He reaches out and tips my chin up with his fingers. “Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Thinking,” he says, and his mouth curves like it’s a joke, but his eyes don’t.
“I’m not thinking,” I lie.
He leans in. “You are,” he says, kissing me again, longer this time, and it works because it shuts my mouth and gives my body something simple to pay attention to, and for a few seconds, I don’t care what day it is.
When we pull apart, I breathe out slowly and set the mug in my hand down before I drop it. He watches, then reaches for me again, and this time he backs me against the counter, his hips pinning me there, and he kisses me like he’s reminding me that he can still make my brain go quiet whenever he decides.
I let him, because I’m not interested in pretending that I’m above that.
His kiss deepens; my hands rush to his hair, gripping the strands just to fuckingruinthem, to feel something give under my fingers the way I’m about to give under him. Also because I don’t know when I’ll be able to do it again.
“Fuck,”I gasp against his lips, my cock already thickening, pressing against my joggers like it’s trying to burst free. Ari’s answer is his teeth sinking into my bottom lip hard. The sting shoots straight to my dick, and I groan, my hips jerking forward, grinding against the thick ridge of his erection.
One hand tangles in my hair, his fingers tight against my scalp, forcing my head back so he can trail his mouth down my throat. His teeth graze my Adam's apple; he bites down, and I hiss, my nails digging into his shoulders.“I’m goingto mark this beautiful body,”he says, his voice rough like gravel,“so every bastard knows you’re out of bounds.”
A breathless laugh tears out of me. “As if I’d let anyone else touch me.” Ari’s response is his hands everywhere, pulling at my jumper, tearing it up over my head before his mouth finds my chest, then lower, to my nipple, biting down hard enough to make me jerk.“Fuck—!”The word turns into a moan as he sucks it after, his free hand already working at my joggers, yanking them down in one rough motion.
Cool air hits my cock; his fingers wrap around my shaft, stroking, before he gives it a sharp tug that has my hips bucking.“Mm, you’re dripping, detka,”he whispers, but his own breath is shaky, his cock strains against his bottoms, like it’s trying to tear through.
“Shut up and take me back to bed,”I shoot back, but my words slur as he spits into his hand, wrapping his fingers around my length, stroking me slowly, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to my balls and making me whimper.
Ari’s answer is to step back just long enough to shove his bottoms down his thighs.
I reach for him, but he bats my hand away, his eyes burning into mine as he grips my hips and lifts me onto the counter like I weigh nothing.
The cold wood bites into my bare arse, but I barely feel it. Ari’s between my legs in an instant, his hands sliding up my thighs. “Bed’s too far,”he growls, his voice a dark promise as he leans in, his cock brushing against mine, thecontact electric. I don’t argue, not when his mouth crashes back onto mine, his tongue fucking past my lips. And definitely not when his hands slide under my arse, tilting my hips up, spreading me open.
His fingers tease over my hole, and I gasp into the kiss, my body already aching and desperate for him. Ari pulls back just enough to squirt lube into his palm, his eyes never leaving mine as he strokes himself, his cock glistening.“I’m going to fuck you right here,”he says, his voice a rough whisper.
A shudder runs through me from the first press of his cock against me, the thick head stretching me open slowly as he pushes in. I groan, my fingers digging into his arms, my nails breaking skin. Ari hisses, but he doesn’t stop, his hips rolling forward bit by bit until he bottoms out.
Then he pulls back and slams home, his hips snapping forward, his cock hitting that spot inside me that knocks my brain silent.
“Blyat’ Caiden,”he grunts. I can only moan in response, my cock leaking against my stomach, my body moving with his, meeting every thrust. The counter creaks under us, the wood digs into my back, but I don’t care. All that matters is Ari — his scent, his heat, the way he fills me so perfectly it hurts.
