Page 186 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

The dark of midnight hides them, but in this place… there are eyes everywhere. Strong hands pin his wrists above his head, the angle shifting.

This man loves him too much to stop, too much to think clearly.

It’s addictive, it’s intoxicating.

To be loved past the point of all reason.

Loved hard enough to feel it.

Deep inside, split open, they are sewn together, always will be.

This man is loving him to pieces to make them both whole.

‘That what you want, baby?’

Low voice, rough and teasing while he pushes himself inside slower, teeth dragging to bite his earlobe, it’s too much, not enough, it’s everything.

‘Yeah, fuck.’ Hips rolling faster, slaves to pleasure. ‘More.’

‘You can’t take more.’

‘Try me, you psychopath.’

‘I’m your psychopath, though,’ that dark voice rumbles, hand cupping the base of his throat, squeezing playfully. ‘Yours.’

‘If you’re mine then do… oh, fuck, yeah, right there!’

‘Didn’t catch that.’

‘If you’re mine then do as I s-say.’

The rain falls like a curtain, hiding them, drowning out the noises, but if there is a God, he must see it. He must know. Something about it drives him crazy, head falling back against the tree, mouth lax, eyes rolling back.

‘I am yours.’

‘Again.’

‘I’m all yours, baby. I belong to you.’

‘Only me.’

‘Only you.’

‘Always.’

‘Forever.’

‘Mine,’ he pants desperately, salt on his tongue.

‘Tell me what’s yours.’

He digs fingers into rain-cold skin, claiming, marking.

‘Your come. Your blood. Your fucking soul,’ he grits out with tears in his eyes as pleasure lovingly wrecks the fringes of his control but cannot yet break over him like a wave, shatter his tension and melt the shards.

‘Is it all yours?’ the man who cannot stop loving him muses darkly, licking into his mouth. ‘Greedy thing.’

‘All of you belongs to me.’