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Something in Daven changed when he heard that. The softness that had held between them all afternoon tightened into focus. He still wanted to give, but now he wanted to mark too. Reward him, yes. Then ruin him for anyone else. By the time the night was over, Ryneth would know exactly who he belonged to.

“I will, baby. I will.” Pressing his thumb into the soft dip of Ryneth’s throat, he watched the way Ryneth’s eyes drifted, the silver clouded by opium and the heat of the room.

“I’m feeling a little weird.” Ryneth’s breath caught, his head tipping back against the cool pane.

“That’s because there’s a puffer inside the Waltr. Did I not mention that?”

Ryneth opened one eye. “No,” he snarled, but it only sounded cute. Like a kitten that had lost its claws.

“You did so well today,” Daven murmured, leaning in until their chests collided. “Going to class. Taking notes.”

Ryneth let out a wrecked sound, a half-sob that ended in a moan. He leaned back into the pressure, his hips rocking sluggishly against Daven’s thigh. “Please,” he wheezed, his fingers clawing at the cushions they sat on.

“Please what, aethera?” Daven grabbed Ryneth’s hair, yanking his head back to expose the line of his neck. “Tell me how much you want the reward.”

“Daven… fuck. I want it.”

Daven grinned, his jeweled incisors catching the amber light. He didn’t rush, instead letting the silence stretch, watching the way Ryneth’s pulse hammered beneath his skin.

He reached down, unbuckling Ryneth’s belt with a sharp click. He slid down Ryneth’s slacks, then his own, the air in the glass space turning sharp as their skin finally met. Ryneth was wet, a bead of precum glistening at the tip.

Daven spat into his own palm, the sound obscene in the quiet. He smeared the moisture over Ryneth’s cock, then wrapped his hand around him and stroked him. “Look at you,” he whispered, leaning down and letting a slow thread of spit drop into Ryneth’s open mouth. “Taking it like a good boy. You like it filthy, don’t you?”

Ryneth held Daven’s gaze, lips parted, a thin sheen of spit still visible on his tongue. Daven watched him swallow it, watched the movement of his throat, and felt his cock kick hard at the sight. Then Ryneth’s head thrashed back against the glass. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”

Daven caught him under the thighs and shifted him higher onto the cushions, then turned him with deliberate strength until Ryneth was on his knees, chest and cheek pressed to the curved glass.

The city spilled out beneath them in fractured lights. Ryneth made a wrecked sound when Daven spread his legs wider and folded him open, one hand braced between his shoulder blades to keep him there.

“Stay,” Daven murmured.

He spat into his hand again, slicked his fingers, and pushed two of them deep into Ryneth’s tight hole.

His aethera shrieked, his body arching under Daven’s touch. The static surged through him, blue-white light flashing under the skin of his forearms, but it had nowhere to go.

“That’s it,” Daven praised, stretching him, feeling the muscles yield. “Open up for me. Show me how badly you need it.”

He guided his length to Ryneth’s hole and pushed inside, sinking his teeth into Ryneth’s shoulder to muffle the cry as Ryneth tightened around him. “You’re so tight. So fucking perfect. So fucking mine.”

One hand braced on the glass beside Ryneth’s head, the other locked on his hip, Daven began to thrust into him, slow at first, then harder, faster, making the glass rattle with every impact.

“Oh, fuck fuck fuck,” Ryneth moaned.

“Yeah? Feel good, baby?” Daven watched their reflection, Ryneth’s silver lashes fluttering as he lost himself to the friction.

Daven’s hand slid from the glass to Ryneth’s hip, digging into the flesh. He increased the pace, his thrusts turning into a brutal, steady rhythm that made the large window rattle in its frame. Ryneth’s head thrashed against the pane, his lashes trembling as he struggled to breathe.

“That’s it,” Daven rumbled, leaning down to bite the sensitive cord of Ryneth’s neck. “Take it all. Every inch.”

Ryneth let out a wrecked moan, his voice breaking into a sob. He tried to find purchase on the silk cushions, but his fingers only slid uselessly over the fabric. He was open, pinned between the cold glass and Daven’s heat, his body yielding beneath him.

Daven reached down, his ringed hand finding the base of Ryneth’s cock. He fisted the length, the metal of his rings scraping against his skin until Ryneth’s hips jerked. His thumb moved to the head, circling the wet slit, before his palm traveled lower to cup Ryneth’s balls.

“So full,” Daven whispered, his voice vibrating low against Ryneth’s ear. “So perfect in my palm.”

He squeezed, his grip possessive and hard. Ryneth shrieked, his back arching. The static in his veins surged again, blue-white light mapping the arteries in his forearms, but it only fed the fire.

Daven didn't stop. He summoned his air, coiling the pressure around Ryneth’s cock like a heated glove. He used the wind to create a secondary friction, a localized storm working Ryneth’s length while Daven continued to drive into his heat.