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He leaned forward, bracing his hands on my chest, burying his face in my neck, while his hips pistoned faster and faster. The sensation was maddening, a wall of intensity and pressure that threatened to snap my control.

“That’s it,” I whispered into his ear, my voice rough. “Take what you need. Take it all. You like being dirty, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he sobbed, the word broken by a gasp. “Yes, oh god.”

“Such a good boy. Grind down. Harder. You feel what you do to me?”

He drove his hips down, squeezing his thighs until I felt like I was going to burst. I reached down and found his cock crushed between our stomachs. It was slick, leaking, throbbing against my palm.

I pumped him, matching the frantic rhythm of his hips. The dual stimulation pushed him over the edge. His breath hitched, turning into a high keen sound of distress.

“I’m close,” he cried out, his fingernails digging into my shoulders. “Leander!”

“Let go,” I commanded, gripping his hips to drive him deeper into the friction. “Give it to me.”

He screamed a raw shattered sound that bounced off the metal walls. He clamped his thighs tight around me and came, spurting hot white fluid all over my chest and stomach.

The sight of him undoing himself, coating us both with his cum, broke me.

I roared, my hips bucking up against his resistance, the break flaring with every thrust, and I did not care. I emptied myself between his legs, the heat of it searing as I coated his thighs and his stomach, mixing my fluids with his.

We lay there in disarray as he collapsed against me, hearts hammering in unison, slick with sweat and cum. For a while there was nothing in me but pulse. His, mine, the turbines, all of it running at the same speed, until I couldn’t find the line where he stopped and the machinery started. Then the adrenaline drained off and the leg came back first, a deep throb keeping time with the vent cycles, and I held him tighter. The smell of sex was primal, filling the small space between the turbines.

Felix lifted his head and gazed down at the fluids smeared across my abs, white streaks against the tan skin and the dark grease stains. With a small shift of his weight, he dragged himself up my body until he was hovering over the mess.

He lowered his head and pressed his open mouth to my skin. He dragged his tongue through the slick white pool, lapping it up with broad strokes. The sound he made was low and satisfied, a hum that vibrated straight into my muscles as he cleaned me up. He followed every smear, tongue swirling, tasting, taking, until there was nothing left behind.

His throat worked visibly as he swallowed, his lips wet, slick with the evidence of what we had just done.

It snapped the last tether of my control. I pulled him up by the back of his neck and smashed my mouth against his. I invaded his mouth with my tongue. The mix of us blended with the sweetness of his saliva. We swapped the fluid back and forth, feeding on each other, sealing the pact with a filthy kiss that tasted like ownership.

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

“I learned from the best,” Felix murmured.

“Your best?” I repeated, and I heard exactly how pleased I sounded, too pleased to bother hiding it. Nobody had ever called me anybody’s best at anything, not until him.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.” I tipped his chin up so he’d have to look at me and see it land. “Say it again.”

“You’re my best fucking cock, Leander,” he said, nothing soft in it. “Nobody’s ever split me open like you do. Nobody’s dick has ever punched so deep it made me forget where I am.”

“Fucking hell, dirty boy.”

The King of the Academy, obsessed with a Sector 9 rat. Ruined for anyone else. And I’d done that. Me.

“I can still taste your cum coating the back of my throat, and I don’t want it to go away.” He licked his lips, making sure I watched him do it.

“Open your mouth,” I ordered him.

He obeyed instantly, lips parting, eyes locked on mine. I gathered the spit on my tongue and let it fall, and watched it land on his.

He swallowed it like it was something owed to him, and made a wrecked sound that undid something in my chest no hand on my cock ever had.

“My beautiful mess,” I murmured, and meant every word of it.

He rested his head on my shoulder. We stayed like that for a long time, letting the heat of the furnace dry the sweat on our skin.