Chapter 31 #2
Ryneth was shaking now. His toes curled into the sheets. His grip tightened hard enough to tug at Daven’s hair as Daven kept him right on the edge.
“I’m not going to last,” he said again, and this time the words came out broken.
Daven eased back just enough to look up at him, eyes dark and satisfied. “You weren’t supposed to.”
Then he took him deep again, suckling hard, and Ryneth broke.
Pleasure hit hard enough to tear a cry out of him.
His whole body went taut, then bucked under Daven’s hands as he came down Daven’s throat in hot, pulsing waves.
Static snapped blue across the sheets. His toes curled.
His fingers clenched in Daven’s hair while he moaned through it, riding out every pulse while Daven drank him down.
By the time it passed, he was trembling so badly he could barely hold himself up. He slumped forward with a breathless sound while the last of it worked through him.
Daven kept him there, one hand steady at his waist, the other smoothing once over his back while Ryneth tried to remember how to breathe.
When he finally lifted his head, his lips were wet, his face flushed, and his whole body still felt loose and wrecked in the best way.
Daven smacked his lips once, slow and satisfied. “Mm. Good morning.”
Ryneth let out a hoarse little laugh, still trying to catch his breath. “So you’re not thirsty anymore?”
Daven’s mouth curved. “Not even a little.”
Ryneth groaned. “Good Light.”
Daven caught him by the waist and guided him down beside him instead, settling Ryneth against his chest with one arm heavy around him. For a moment, neither of them said anything. The room had gone quiet again. Somewhere out in the apartment, low music drifted in from the kitchen.
Ryneth stayed there, breathing hard, his head still a little fuzzy from the orgasm, body loose and oversensitive in Daven’s arms. He liked this too much. The weight of Daven around him. The heat of his chest against his cheek. The dangerous comfort of it.
Daven reached for the coffee, took a sip, then passed the other cup over without a word. They sat there for another minute, quiet, half tangled in the sheets, the morning settling around them.
Then Daven set his cup aside, gave Ryneth’s forearm a slow squeeze, and looked down at him. “Come on, baby,” he said, mouth curving. “You ready? Let’s take a shower.”
Ryneth followed him into the bathroom, still loose in the limbs, still dazed. The heated stone was warm under his feet. Daven thumbed the controls and the wall jets came alive, hot water striking tile in hard streams.
They stepped under the spray together. Water ran down Daven’s chest, over his stomach, and lower. Ryneth’s gaze dropped. Daven was still hard.
Daven caught him looking and smiled. “What?”
Ryneth reached for the bottle on the shelf instead.
Daven’s brows lifted. “Baby?”
Ryneth slicked his fingers, held Daven’s stare, and stepped closer. “You haven’t had your good morning yet.”
Daven just looked at him. Then something changed in his face. “Ryneth.”
Ryneth only pushed him back toward the built-in seat under the side jets. “Sit.”
Daven let out a rough breath, still watching him like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, then sat. Water ran over both of them while Ryneth stepped in close, slow on purpose.
He kept Daven’s gaze while he opened himself with slick fingers, one, then two, going still when the stretch pulled through him. Daven’s jaw tightened. His hands braced on the edge of the bench.
“Look at you,” Daven said, voice rough under the spray. “Come here and do it properly.”
Ryneth straddled him, knees pressing into the bench on either side of Daven’s hips. He gripped Daven’s shoulders and lowered himself onto him slowly, gasping when Daven filled him. Daven’s hands landed hard on his hips at once, holding him steady while Ryneth took the rest of him.
For one second, neither of them moved. Then Ryneth rolled his hips.
Daven swore under his breath. His grip tightened. “Fuck.”
Ryneth moved again, slow at first, then harder, riding him under the hot spray while Daven watched him with pupils blown wide. Water ran over both of them, over Daven’s hands locked on his hips, over Ryneth’s chest and stomach while the friction built fast and dirty between them.
“That’s it,” Daven said, voice breaking. “That’s it, baby.”
The sound of it went straight through Ryneth. He rocked down harder, breath breaking, cock trapped hot between them. Daven lost the rest of his control and thrust up from the bench, meeting him hard enough to make Ryneth gasp.
It didn’t last long after that. Daven came first with a low, wrecked sound, fingers digging into Ryneth’s hips as he held him down through it.
The feeling of it tipped Ryneth right over the edge.
He came with a sharp cry, body going tight, one hand flying to Daven’s shoulder while blue static snapped once across the wet tile.
For a second, neither of them moved. They just stayed there under the spray, breathing hard, Daven’s hands still locked on him like he wasn’t ready to let go.
Ryneth let out a breathless laugh. “Better?”
Daven tipped his head back against the tile, then looked at him with a dark, satisfied smile. “Much.”
He dragged Ryneth in for one hard kiss, then reached for the soap at last. “Now behave. We actually have to get dressed.”
They finished the shower without much talking after that, both of them quieter now, the edge taken off.
By the time they stepped back into the bedroom, the apartment felt fully awake.
Music still drifted in low from the kitchen.
Somewhere deeper in the suite, Vandor was probably pretending not to notice they’d taken forever.
Getting ready was easy in a way Ryneth still wasn’t used to. Towels. Clothes laid out. Daven pulling on black and silver like it was second skin. Ryneth dressing beside him, still feeling a little loose in the limbs, still catching himself looking over whenever Daven moved.
At one point, Daven stepped in without a word and fixed Ryneth’s collar, thumb brushing once over the fading marks at his throat before smoothing the fabric back into place.
The touch lasted barely a second, but it still made something warm settle low in Ryneth’s chest.
They brushed their teeth shoulder to shoulder at the sink. Combed wet hair back. Said almost nothing. It didn’t feel awkward. It felt… normal. Which was dangerous in a different way.
By the time they made it into the kitchen, the tiganos had gone cold. Daven took one bite anyway, then poured them both more coffee. Ryneth leaned against the counter, cup warm between his hands, watching the city burn brighter beyond the glass.
“Walk me through it again,” he said after a moment, staring out at the city. “What do they expect from me at the Aureate?”
Daven glanced at him over the rim of his cup like he had been waiting for that question. Then he set the mug down and leaned back against the island beside him.
“You stay with me,” he said. “You stand where I tell you. You keep your head up. And whatever happens, you give them nothing they can read as fear.”
Ryneth looked at him. “That bad?”
Daven’s mouth curved, though there was barely any humor in it. “That obvious.”
He took another sip before he went on, quieter now.
“The Aureate is half ceremony, half warning. Helion likes to see what protects it. The prisoners they bring out are the worst of what the city wants gone. The Imperial line handles it in public because that’s the deal.
People sleep better when they see monsters die in the light. ”
Ryneth’s fingers tightened slightly around the cup. “So it really is killing.”
Daven looked at him for a second, then nodded once. “Yes.”
There was no performance in him now. There was only Daven in his kitchen, coffee in hand, telling him the truth with that filthy mouth like he always did when he cared enough to let it show.
“You do not have to love it,” he said. “But you need to understand where you are standing.”
That settled heavier than the rest.
Ryneth knew what it meant to watch someone die. Düren had never turned it into a ceremony. There, violence had always been survival. Here, it came dressed in gold and glass.
Ryneth looked down into his coffee, then back out at the city. “And what do you want from me?”
Something shifted in Daven’s face then, subtle but immediate. He set his cup down. “I want you beside me. I want your head up. And if Bekn looks at you, I want him to understand exactly how wrong he was.”
Ryneth held his gaze. “That all?”
Daven’s mouth curved, but the look in his eyes didn’t.
He stepped in close enough that the edge of Ryneth’s cup pressed lightly between them.
“No,” he said quietly. “I want Helion to see you and understand you’re not a thing that happened to me.
” His hand closed around the back of Ryneth’s neck, steady and warm. “You’re what I chose.”
Heat moved through Ryneth so fast it stole his breath. “You said you want Bekn to understand he was wrong. Wrong about what?”
Daven held his gaze. “About what you are.”
The words settled between them, rough and possessive, and heat rolled low through Ryneth’s body all over again.
Daven picked up the bag of tiganos, tore off a piece, and held it out to him like the conversation had not just shifted something under Ryneth’s skin. “Eat. I am not carrying you in front of my family.”
Two hours later, the noise hit Ryneth before the arena did.
Even inside the private levels, he could hear the crowd. A roar under the floors. Thousands of voices folding into one hungry sound that rose and dropped like surf against metal. It got louder the deeper they went.