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“Safety is a cage,” he said. “I realized that when I saw you restrained in the pod. If I stayed in the tower, I would just be waiting for them to come for me next. Today it was you. Tomorrow it would be me because I missed a goal or refused a breeding assignment.”
Felix curled into me like a cat seeking heat.
“I don’t want to be safe, Leander. I want to be real, with you by my side.”
The admission hung in the air, heavier than the steam. I finally saw the truth of what he had done: he had burned his entire kingdom to the ground just to pull me out of the wreckage.
“I hated you when I got here,” I admitted, the words scraping my throat. “I looked at you in the dining hall, sitting up there like a god, and I wanted to destroy you. I thought you were soft. I thought a Sector 9 rat like me didn’t even exist in your world.”
Felix turned in my arms, shifting until he was facing me. He winced as his knees hit the hard floor, but he didn’t pull away. He looked at me with an intensity that burned.
“I saw you,” Felix whispered. “From the first day, I watched you in the mud. You were the only thing that looked true in this entire plastic factory. I was freezing to death in that tower, Leander. You set me on fire.”
He reached out and gripped my thigh.
“Make me feel real,” he begged. “Right now.”
The need in his voice snapped the last of my restraint. I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t run, but I could still claim him.
“Come here,” I said.
Felix crawled over my good leg, straddling my hips. He settled his weight carefully, keeping clear of the boot, his knees bracketing my thighs.
He leaned down and kissed me. Our mouths clashed, teeth grazing lips, tongues tangling as we tried to devour each other. He tasted of dust and the copper of a split lip, and under all of it, him. I gripped his hips, thumbs digging into the soft skin above the waistband of his pants, anchoring him to me.
He ground against my stomach, the friction against my uniform sending a jolt of electricity to my cock. I groaned, throwing my head back against the metal console.
“Take your clothes off,” I ordered.
Felix shoved his pants and briefs down, kicking them away. He was already hard, weeping pre-cum onto his stomach. He fumbled with my shorts, hands shaking, until he freed me.
He wrapped his hand around us both, pressing our lengths together. The sensation of wet, hot skin sliding against skin was overwhelming. He ground down, hips snapping in a frantic rhythm, seeking friction, seeking release.
His knee slid on the tarp and knocked the boot, and the bolt that went up the bone whited out the room for a second. He felt me lock. He stopped, dead still, one hand flat on my chest, his own breath ragged with the effort of stopping, and he waited until I nodded. Then he moved again.
“Slower,” I growled, my hands tightening on his hips to hold him still. “Look at you. You’re a mess.”
“I don’t care,” he gasped, forehead resting against mine.
“Good boy.”
He shuddered at the praise as I guided his head down. “Taste me.”
He obeyed instantly, lowering his head and taking me into his mouth. He was enthusiastic but unpolished, bobbing his head, using too much suction, making wet, slurping noises that echoed off the machines. My hand tangled in his filthy, sweat-matted hair as I fed him my cock. The sight of the Golden Boy on his knees, serving me in the dirt, made my blood roar.
“Use your tongue,” I instructed. “Swirl it. That’s it. Make it messy for me.”
He moaned around me, the vibration traveling straight to my dick. He pulled off, gasping for air, a string of saliva connecting us.
“I need more,” he panted, his eyes blown wide and black. “Leander, please.”
I guided him back up, giving him what he wanted. He lifted his hips, positioning himself so my cock rested between his thighs. He squeezed his legs together, creating a tight, wet channel of muscle and skin.
I had one leg to drive with. I planted the good heel on the grating and gave him what the leg allowed, and he took the rest for both of us.
“Fuck, Felix. You’re making me lose it.”
He slid up and down, chasing the friction. He used his own spit and the sweat slicking our bodies to lubricate the motion of the frottage. His taint ground against the base of my cock, his balls slapping against mine in a pounding sound. I could feel the heat of him, the strength in his thighs as he rode my leg.
