Page 47 of Moth to a Flame

“Hawk…”

“Yes, boss?”

I laughed, and it resonated deep, not deadened by the creeping vines of the curse, not locked away and private. It was a gift he had blessed me with, and I would not squander it.

I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips to his and toying with his piercing. He moaned and returned the kiss in kind, his arms wrapping around my waist as his wings pulsed rapidly.

Immediately, heat flared, and my hands wandered over the bare skin of his stomach, tracing the waistband of his dark jeans and toying with his belly button piercing. He hummed, releasing the kiss.

“Wanna head inside?” he asked, his eyes already glazing over.

I looked at the house, then back at the greenhouse, where my plants were still settling into their shrunken forms. I recalled the flush on his cheeks when I’d tied one around his wrist, the arousal he’d felt at the pain that had lingered from the bind.

He’d given me so much, brought me out of a darkness I had never thought I would escape.

I think he deserves a reward.

“I’ve got a different idea. Do you trust me?” I trailed my finger down the lines of the Death’s Head moth tattoo on his chest.

He glanced at the greenhouse, and I felt the same thoughts pass through him and down the bond, white-hot.

“Fuck yes, I do.”

I tugged on his belt loops, leading him inside the humid structure and pushing him back onto the workbench. He went easily, scooting back so I could climb up in front of him, his thighs spread around my knees.

“Do you know the color system?”

He nodded vigorously. “Yes, I do.” His voice was hoarse.

I waved my hand, coaxing my plants to grow again. I expected them to complain, overworked from intimidating my brother, but they snapped to attention immediately.

Perverts.

They grew up the table legs, and as their leafy heads curled over the edge, Hawk’s eyes went wide. A deep note of arousal threaded with an intoxicating hint of trepidation traveled up our bond.

“If anything is⁠—”

“Green! Yes, please, Lucia, I—” His arousal was cut by embarrassment again as a flush creeped up his neck. I couldn’t have that. He never needed to hide around me.

I leaned down and captured his mouth, tugging on his piercing with my teeth until he moaned. “Are you going to be a good boy for me, Hawk?”

The rush of arousal that shot through him had me clenching. “Yes—yes. I’ll be so good. Please⁠—”

I cut him off, kissing him deeper, loving the moan that rolled off his tongue and into my mouth.

“You say red if it’s too much.” The vines had wrapped around his arms.

“It won’t be.”

“Hawk,” I warned.

He bit the piercing on his lip until the skin blanched as the vines wrapped tighter, and a whimper slipped from him. “Yes, boss. I’ll say if it’s too much.”

“Good boy.”

I flicked my fingers, and the vines clamped down around his wrists and drew his arms up over his head. I waved my hands, guiding more around his torso and chest. I wove them around the outline of his firm pecs until his back arched, and the veins leading to his nipples bulged under the pressure.

With each breath, I constricted them further, squeezing mewls out of him as they closed around his body.