Chapter Twenty
Arrow stood, pulling Flint up with him. His wolf pushed at his skin - needing that connection reaffirmed after that horrible business with the mark.
But Arrow kept control. He wasn’t horny for Flint because of the mating pull, or the desperate need he had at the beginning.
He wanted to show Flint, through actions, not words, exactly how much he’d come to mean in the weeks since Arrow had upended his entire life.
He cupped Flint’s face, thumbs stroking under wide eyes and down the pert nose. “You’re so damn beautiful.”
Flint’s eyes widened even more. “Arrow…”
“Let me say it.” Arrow kissed him softly. “You’re beautiful, and brilliant, and you’ve been so patient with me while I figured my shit out.”
“Hon, you’re the one who did all the changing. You quit your job and moved to Montana for me.”
“Best decision I ever made.” Arrow kissed him again, deeper this time. “But you’ve done more than that,” he murmured against Flint’s lips. “You gave me a family and purpose. You showed me what it means to be chosen, not because of what I can do or how I look, but because of who I am.”
Flint’s hands fisted in Arrow’s shirt. “You’re going to make me cry if you keep that up.”
“I don’t want you to cry.” Arrow nuzzled against his temple. “Just let me show you how you make me feel.”
He walked Flint backward toward the bed, taking his time. There wasn’t any rush, they had all night, and Arrow intended to use every minute of it. When the back of Flint’s knees hit the mattress, Arrow eased him down, following him onto the bed.
The kiss turned languid as they explored each other all over again. Arrow mapped every inch of Flint’s mouth, swallowing the small sounds his mate made. He pulled back enough to tug at Flint’s shirt. “Off, babe.”
Flint sat up and yanked the fabric over his head. Arrow drank in the sight - pale skin, lean muscle, and the sight that never failed to make him feel proud - the claiming scar on his shoulder that marked him as Arrow’s. He traced the mark with his fingers, feeling Flint shiver under his fingers.
“Mine,” Arrow murmured.
“Yours,” Flint agreed, reaching for Arrow’s buttons.
Arrow let him work the shirt open, let those strong fingers push it off his shoulders. When Flint’s hands moved to his belt, Arrow caught them gently.
“Slow,” he said. “I want this slow.”
Flint’s pupils dilated. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Arrow kissed him again, gentler now. “Lie back for me.”
Flint settled against the pillows, hair mussed and lips swollen from a kiss.
Arrow braced himself on one arm and used his free hand to explore.
He traced patterns across Flint’s chest, circled his nipples until Flint arched into the touch.
Leaned down to follow the path with his mouth, tasting salt and the faint sweetness of chocolate still lingering on his mate’s skin.
“Arrow.” Flint breathed.
“I’m right here.” Arrow worked his way down, pressing kisses to Flint’s ribs, his stomach, and the jut of his hipbone. He opened Flint’s jeans with deliberate slowness, pulling them down inch by inch. Flint lifted his hips to help, but Arrow took his time, kissing newly revealed skin as he went.
When Flint was finally naked beneath him, Arrow sat back on his heels and just looked.
The suite’s soft lighting painted gold across Flint’s body, highlighting the lean lines and compact strength.
His mate’s cock was hard, flushed dark, but Arrow ignored it for now. He genuinely wanted to take his time.
“You’re staring at me,” Flint said, a hint of self-consciousness creeping into his voice.
“I can’t help it.” Arrow ran his hands up Flint’s thighs. “You’re perfect.”
“I’m pocket-sized.”
“You’re exactly right.” Arrow pressed a kiss to the inside of Flint’s knee. “Every part of you is exactly what I need.”
He continued his exploration, relearning the geography of his mate’s body. The sensitive spot behind Flint’s knee that made him jerk. The way his breath hitched when Arrow’s teeth grazed his inner thigh. The small mole on his left hip that Arrow had noted weeks ago.
Flint’s fingers tangled in Arrow’s hair. “You’re killing me with your teasing ways.”
“Good.” Arrow grinned against his skin. “That was the plan.”
He kissed his way back up Flint’s body, pausing to lavish attention on his mate’s cock - just enough to make Flint gasp - before continuing upward. By the time he reached Flint’s mouth again, his mate was trembling, desperate little sounds catching in his throat.
Arrow kissed him more deeply, pouring everything he felt into it. Love, gratitude, and the wonder he’d never let go of that someone like Flint had given him a second chance.
“Need you,” Flint whispered against his lips.
“You have me.” Arrow shifted, reaching for the lube they’d tossed on the nightstand earlier. “Always.”
He slicked his fingers, took his time opening Flint up. One finger, then two, working slowly, carefully, until Flint was rocking back against his hand. Arrow watched his mate’s face, cataloging every expression - his pleasure, his need, and most of all, his trust.
That trust still amazed him. After everything Arrow had done, Flint still trusted him and had let him prove he could be better.
“More,” Flint demanded.
Arrow added a third finger, quickly finding that spot inside that made Flint cry out. He worked it methodically, building his mate up until Flint was writhing, begging.
“Come on, Arrow, please.”
Arrow withdrew his fingers and got rid of his pants quickly. He slicked himself and positioned himself between Flint’s thighs. Their eyes met, and Arrow saw everything he felt reflected back at him - love, desire, and a sense of home.
“I love you,” Arrow said. The words came easily now.
Flint’s expression softened. “I love you, too. Now move yourself.”
Arrow pushed inside slowly, savoring every inch, every clench of Flint’s body around him. When he was fully seated, he paused, letting them both adjust until Flint’s legs wrapped around his waist, urging him to go deeper.
Arrow set a steady rhythm, not fast or frantic, but thorough. He angled his hips to hit that spot inside with every thrust, watched Flint’s eyes go hazy with pleasure. Braced on his forearms, Arrow kept their bodies close, chests brushing with every movement.
“So good,” Flint gasped. “You’re so good.”
Arrow kissed him, swallowing the words. He adjusted his angle slightly and drove deeper. Flint’s nails raked down his back, the sting grounding Arrow further. He picked up the pace, still controlled but with more purpose now, building them both toward that edge.
“Touch yourself,” Arrow commanded softly.
Flint’s hand flew to his cock, stroking in time with Arrow’s thrusts. The sight never failed to drive Arrow crazy - the open way Flint pleasured himself - which always sent Arrow’s arousal levels soaring.
“That’s it,” Arrow encouraged. “Let me see you.”
Flint’s head pressed back into the pillow, his spine arching. His hand worked faster, the movements growing erratic as he chased his release. Arrow felt his own orgasm building, heat coiling at the base of his spine.
“Arrow,” Flint warned between panted breaths. “Close.”
“Me too.” Arrow drove in harder. “Come for me.”
Flint shattered with a cry, body clenching around Arrow’s cock as he spilled across his own stomach. The sight and sensation pushed Arrow over, pleasure crashing through him in waves as he emptied himself inside his beloved mate.
He collapsed carefully, mindful of his weight, burying his face in Flint’s neck. Their bond sang between them, full of contentment, satisfaction, and the love they shared.
“Fuck.” Flint let out a huff.
Arrow huffed a laugh against his skin. “Yeah.”
They lay tangled together, catching their breath. Arrow felt Flint’s fingers trace patterns on his shoulder blade, recognizing the need for touch, because Arrow felt it, too.
“You okay?” Arrow asked eventually.
“Better than okay.” Flint’s voice carried a smile. “That was...wow.”
Arrow propped himself up enough to see his mate’s face. Flint looked thoroughly debauched - his hair a mess across the pillows, his lips still swollen, and his cheeks and chest still carrying a rosy glow. I did that to my fierce assassin. That was something else that was never going to get old.
“I’m glad.” Arrow kissed him softly. “You deserve wow. You deserve everything.”
“So do you.” Flint cupped his face. “I know you still struggle with that idea sometimes, believing you deserve good things, but you do.”
Arrow closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. Flint was right. Ten years of performing, of building an image instead of a life, had left scars deeper than any physical wound. Some days, Arrow still caught himself planning what to say or wear to impress people who didn’t matter.
But then he’d remember where he was. He’d see Flint in the greenhouse or sunning himself on a rock.
He’d remember the way Calvin and Levi laughed with him, not at him.
How Cyrus and Python had defended him in their own way, and how he was accepted at the grill evenings like everyone else.
His new family wanted him, not the polished facade he used to show everyone.
“I’m learning,” Arrow said quietly. “You’re teaching me.”
“We’re teaching each other.” Flint kissed him. “Now come on. We should clean up before we make a mess of these sheets.”
Arrow reluctantly pulled out, earning a small sound of protest from his mate. He padded to the bathroom, wet a washcloth with warm water, and returned to clean them both. Flint watched him with soft eyes, accepting the care without protest.
When they were both clean enough, Arrow disposed of the washcloth and crawled back into bed. Flint immediately curled into his side, head on Arrow’s chest, one leg thrown over his thighs.
“Your strawberries are probably warm now,” Arrow said.
“I don’t care.” Flint yawned. “I’m too comfortable to move.”
Arrow smiled, running his fingers through Flint’s hair. Through the window, the city lights glittered, but they felt distant. Separate from this moment, this bed, this person in his arms.
“What are you thinking?” Flint asked sleepily.
“That I never want to go back to who I was.” Arrow kept his voice quiet. “Before you, I was so fucking empty. I filled my life with expensive things and impressive titles, but none of it mattered.”
Flint propped himself up on one elbow, suddenly more awake. “And now?”
“Now I have purpose.” Arrow met those huge eyes. “I have you, and the crew, and a life that actually means something. Even if all I do is write, whittle, and help you on jobs, I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”
“You’re more than that.” Flint’s expression turned fierce. “You’re brilliant with strategy. You read people better than anyone I’ve met. And you’re brave as hell for walking away from everything you knew, especially for an unknown future at the time.”
Arrow’s throat tightened. “I walked toward something better, or at least the hope of it.”
“Yeah.” Flint settled back down, pressing a kiss to Arrow’s chest. “You walked toward home.”
Home. The word resonated through Arrow’s bones. Not his sterile loft in the city or his childhood pack’s territory in Wyoming. Home was a small house in Assassin’s Alley, next to a greenhouse full of strawberries and a tiny blond sniper who’d given him a second chance.
“I love you,” Arrow said again, needing Flint to hear it.
“I love you too.” Flint’s breathing was evening out, sleep pulling at him. “Even when you burn the eggs.”
Arrow laughed softly. “I’m getting better at cooking.”
“Marginally.” But Flint’s voice held affection, not criticism. “Don’t worry. I like taking care of you.”
“And I like taking care of you, too.” Arrow kissed the top of his head. “Get some sleep. We’ve got an early flight.”
“Mm.” Flint was already drifting. “I can’t wait to get home.”
Arrow held him as his breathing deepened, became the steady rhythm of sleep. Through their bond, he felt Flint’s contentment, his sense of safety. His wolf settled, satisfied that their mate was protected and cherished.
Tomorrow they’d fly back to Montana and back to their real life. But tonight, in the quiet hotel room, Arrow held his mate and marveled at how drastically his life had changed. How much better it had become.
He’d thought success meant climbing the corporate ladder, impressing his disinterested family, and collecting expensive things.
But real success was loving someone who loved him back, being part of something bigger than himself, and yes, having the courage to become who he was meant to be instead of who he thought he should be.
Arrow closed his eyes, breathing in Flint’s scent. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.