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He didn’t hesitate. He spread my cheeks with his thumbs and pushed his tongue inside. He swirled around the rim, relaxing the muscle, then drove deep, tasting me.

“Shit, Felix.” My head fell back against the cool marble wall.

The sensation was overwhelming. The King of the Academy was on his knees in the shower, eating my ass like it was his last meal. He hummed against me, the vibration traveling straight up my spine. He fucked into me with his tongue, in and out, a relentless pressure that hit every nerve ending I had. It felt dirty and possessive. I loved it.

The spray kept coming down on his shoulders and ran off him warm onto my thighs, water where his hands weren’t, hands where his mouth wasn’t, until there was no part of me he wasn’t touching.

His hand wrapped around my cock, already rock hard and leaking. He stroked me in time with the movement of his tongue.

Stroke. Lick. Squeeze. Push.

“That’s it,” I rasped, my hips bucking off the bench. “Don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop.”

Felix worked me. He knew exactly where to touch and how much pressure to use to drive me out of my mind. The steam, the heat of his mouth, the slick friction of his hand, it overloaded my system.

I bit my arm to keep from shouting. The pleasure built, a dark tide rising in my blood. There was only this. Only him.

“Felix,” I warned, my voice a ragged growl. “I’m close.”

He didn’t stop, he went harder. He pushed his tongue deeper while his hand twisted at the base of my cock, milking me, demanding everything I had.

The air left my lungs and I shuddered violently, my body convulsing as I spilled into his hand.

He stayed with me, holding me through the aftershocks until my breathing finally evened out. His grip went loose and stayed where it was, just holding. I worked my fingers gentle in his hair, an apology for how hard they had pulled, and he leaned into it, kneeling there in the falling water until the last tremor left me.

Then he tipped his head into the stream, rinsed his mouth, and spat. The water clung to his lashes. Fuck me, he was breathtaking.

I reached out to grab the back of his neck and pull him up to me. I kissed him, a bruising kiss. I needed to taste him. I needed to breathe his air.

“You’re dangerous,” I whispered against his lips.

“I try.”

“Now,” I said, pushing myself up. “Let’s go to bed. I’m not done with you.”

I took a towel off the warm rail and scrubbed it over his hair until he stood there half drowned and scowling. Then I saw the shoulder. The bruise from the stairwell had ripened into a deep violet print, the exact shape of my weight coming down six flights on him. I pressed my mouth to it once. He went still and let me.

I led him out of the steam-filled bathroom, our bare feet leaving wet footprints on the plush carpet of the bedroom. The air here was cool, a sharp contrast to the heat of the shower, but the tension between us kept the temperature high.

The bed was a vast expanse of white silk. I laid Felix down in the center of it. He looked small against the pillows, his skin luminous in the city lights filtering through the window.

I crawled over him and caged him with my arms, careful of my bad leg but refusing to let any distance grow between us.

“You took care of me,” I whispered, brushing the wet hair from his forehead.

Felix reached up to trace the line of my jaw.

“Then let me take care of you.”

I kissed him again. This time it was slow, languid. We had survived the mutiny, and now we had the night. I parted his lips with my tongue, exploring his mouth, tangling our legs together.

He opened for me and wrapped his legs around my waist, pulling me down, creating a cradle for my hips.

I stretched out for a bottle of lube on the nightstand and pumped it into my hand. I reached between his legs. “Relax,” I murmured. “I’ve got you.”

I pressed one finger against his entrance. He was tight, resistant. I circled the rim, coating him, waiting for his body to accept me.

He shivered. “Don’t make me wait, Leander.”