Epilogue
Killian
The room the venue had given the newlyweds for their private time after the ceremony was small but well appointed, with a tray holding two glasses of champagne and a small selection of canapés to choose from.
Killian would have offered Chase some, but his poor husband was a little occupied.
Instead, Killian hummed his pleasure, the sound only barely rising above the sweet sounds of Chase choking as Killian tightened his hold on his hair. “Pinch my thigh if you need to.”
But though Chase’s hands were already resting on Killian’s thighs, he kept his fingers oh so carefully straight, as if fearful Killian would interpret the slightest bend as an attempted pinch.
Chase took a frantic, messy breath through his nose, and then he relaxed the way Killian needed, letting Killian’s thick cockhead slide into his throat.
Fuck, that felt amazing.
“My sweet, precious slut. You need my cock more than you need to breathe, don’t you?” Killian loosened his grip, just enough to stroke those wonderfully soft strands. “And you’re sucking it so well. Your throat feels perfect, sweet boy. Swallow for me.”
Chase obeyed immediately, swallowing around the head. Killian groaned at the tight constriction. Fucking. Amazing.
Killian pulled Chase back by the hair. His gorgeous beta’s face was covered with tear tracks and spit, and he had that perfect, dazed look in his eyes. “Almost there, sweet boy,” Killian crooned.
And then he drove back into that perfect, hot, wet mouth. Killian was too worked up at this point, could only manage small, aborted thrusts. He didn’t fight it when his balls drew up tight. They were short on time. “Swallow again,” he ordered. “We can’t have you making a mess.”
Chase let out a whimper, thrusting his hips up into the air as he swallowed desperately. Killian erupted down his throat, groaning at the relief, holding Chase’s head in place until every last drop was gone.
Killian finally released his beta. Chase’s suit pants were unzipped, and his erection was tenting his underwear. But he’d been a good boy and kept his hands at his sides. He looked fucking gorgeous in his disarray.
Killian tsked, eyeing the evidence of Chase’s arousal. “We can’t have you going out like that. What will our guests think?”
He grabbed Chase’s hand and tugged him off the floor, then deftly pulled Chase’s pants and underwear down and dropped to his own knees.
He wrapped his lips around Chase’s cock and swallowed him down.
“Oh fuck! Fucking god!” Chase cried. And then—perfect boy that he was—he came almost immediately, barely allowing Killian to hollow his cheeks before his cum was filling Killian’s mouth.
Chase chanted continual blasphemy at the ceiling as Killian swallowed every drop—he wasn’t a hypocrite—and then tucked Chase carefully back into his pants, straightening his own clothes afterward.
Chase stared down at him, his chest still heaving. “Oh fuck. You’re right. How are we supposed to go back out there?”
Killian petted soothing strokes down Chase’s thighs. “Relax, sweet boy. I’ll get us sorted out. Here.” He handed Chase a champagne glass.
When drawing up the day’s schedule with the wedding planner, Killian had insisted on twenty minutes after the ceremony wherein he and Chase wouldn’t be disturbed, while the rest of the guests were enjoying cocktail hour.
He’d known Chase would need somewhere private and quiet to settle after the intensity of exchanging vows.
And there was one way Killian knew how to settle Chase best.
Killian wasn’t sure what couples usually used this private time for. It probably wasn’t meant to be a space for one groom to throat-fuck the other, but spending these allotted moments doing otherwise was wasting precious time and resources, in Killian’s opinion.
It had taken him approximately thirty seconds to get his new husband on his knees.
Killian grabbed the wet wipes he’d stashed earlier and wiped Chase’s face down in between sips of champagne. He then straightened his beta’s hair—not that it needed much help to fall perfectly. Then lastly it was only a few more adjustments to each of their tuxes.
And voila. All done. A respectable pair of newlyweds.
Chase’s eyes were perhaps a little red still, but some tears were expected on his wedding day. And his lips were—well, his lips were always delectable. Who was to say they were any more so than usual?
And they still had—Killian checked his phone—five minutes left.
Maybe he shouldn’t be proud of how quickly he’d come down his beta’s throat, but so be it. It was Killian’s wedding day. He was allowed to be emotional.
Killian took a seat, then set Chase on his lap. He grabbed a second glass of champagne for himself.
“I’m sorry,” Chase said quietly, resting his head on Killian’s shoulder.
“Whatever for?”
“I stumbled on the vows.”
Killian laughed. “Because you were fighting back tears. I was too. You had me gutted, sweet boy.”
Chase let out a little sigh, and Killian knew he was letting it go.
His beta had come a long way when it came to expressing himself. He was coming on three years of therapy now, though the frequency of his sessions had decreased. But Chase still often ached for reassurances, and Killian had no problem giving them to him as often as he needed.
Killian rubbed his thumb over the distinctive bite mark on Chase’s neck. It was still relatively fresh, as Killian’s rut had fallen close to the wedding.
He’d had the patience of a saint, waiting to bite his intended mate. But Chase’s therapist had strongly suggested Chase might benefit from time—to heal and grow and pursue his path to become a therapist himself—so that he might feel on more equal footing before they bonded somewhat irrevocably.
It had been … sensible, Killian hated to admit. And the goal had been to avoid harm to Chase, so Killian had supported the idea, ignoring his own baser instincts that would have had him biting Chase that very first rut they’d shared.
But Killian’s time had finally come. Chase had finished his master’s and was beginning his supervised clinical hours in a few months.
They’d ended up staying in Phoenix, at least for now.
Chase had chosen an online program, and his internships had been organized by his program at approved locations in the area.
And now—a ring on his finger and a bite on his neck—Chase was Killian’s, even more than he had been before. And Killian belonged to him in turn. By bond and by marriage.
Killian wrapped his arm tighter around his beta’s waist. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
Chase gave him a cheeky grin. “For marrying you?”
“For everything.”
Instead of Chase shying away from the compliment, his grin softened. “Thank you. I’m proud of myself.” And because he was still the sweetest fucking boy around, he added, “And I’m proud to be yours.”
Killian couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to his forehead. Chase glanced at the door. “We should probably get back out there, huh? You swear I look okay? You couldn’t have waited to get me on my knees until after the professional photos were taken?”
Killian didn’t dignify that last question with an answer. “There are no words for how you look. Prince has been lamenting all evening over not finding you first.”
Chase rose to standing, setting his glass on the tray. “He’s just messing with you. Besides, you didn’t find me. I found you.”
Killian couldn’t argue with that. So he didn’t. He followed his husband out the door to join their guests.
The wedding guests were milling about the garden, drinking their cocktails. Killian could hear the bright cackle of Spencer’s laughter above the polite conversation of everyone else.
Killian would have loved to grab one of those cocktails himself, but they had photos to take first.
Family photos.
And the family in question might have been part of the reason Killian had needed to get a bit of … alpha aggression out. A reason besides Chase looking so immensely fuckable in his tux.
Chase’s parents were here.
Killian had known they would be, and he’d even understood that Chase needed to invite them.
Chase didn’t expect much from them these days—he’d worked with his therapist quite a bit on that—but he would most likely never be the kind to cut off contact completely, not unless his parents switched coldness for outright cruelty.
Said parents were standing off to the side by the veranda, looking distinctly uncomfortable in their bubble of two.
Chase smiled at them as he and Killian approached, and Killian worked to turn his expression into something that wasn’t a grimace. “Mom. Dad. Are you ready?”
Chase’s mother gave him a tight twist of lips that was perhaps supposed to be a smile of her own. “We are.”
Killian wrapped a hand around the back of Chase’s neck, stroking the bite mark there. The father’s gaze darted to the motion, and Killian bared his teeth in what could have passed for the semblance of a smile.
That’s right. He’s mine now.
Killian squeezed Chase’s nape. “Will you let the photographer know we’re ready? He’s probably with the catering lead.”
Chase didn’t quite roll his eyes, but it was a close thing. “The photographer whose name is Terrance? And the catering lead, Amanda?”
Killian shrugged, and Chase whirled away, but not quickly enough to hide his fond grin.
It was nice when one’s husband appreciated one’s quirks. Killian never had to learn names anymore—not that he’d ever bothered to before—because Chase was always getting everyone’s life stories left and right.
And then Killian was left with two people he detested.
“Lovely location,” Chase’s mother drawled.
But Killian had no interest in small talk, and there wasn’t time for it anyway. He tucked his hands into his suit pockets. “If I had my way, you wouldn’t be here right now.”
Chase’s father blustered. “I beg your—”
“But you are.” Killian raised his voice to be heard over the interruption, and the father immediately backed down.
Of course he did. He was a complete coward when it came to his reputation, and he wouldn’t be caught arguing with his son’s groom at his son’s wedding.
“Because the two of you somehow raised, without a scrap of care or affection, a wonderful, dutiful son, who only ever aims to please, and he wanted you here. So this is how it’s going to go.
You are going to pose for photos. You are going to look goddamn delighted in every single one.
You are going to hug your son afterward and ask him no fewer than three personal questions: about his honeymoon plans, his impending clinical hours, take your fucking pick.
And you are going to bow out politely after dinner so we can enjoy the rest of the evening without a reminder of the people who failed Chase so horribly. Does that sound like a plan?”
It was the mother who spoke this time. “I—”
“The question was rhetorical.”
Chase reappeared before either of them could attempt to speak their minds, and Killian wrapped an arm around his husband’s waist. “Your mother was just commenting on the loveliness of the venue.”
Chase beamed. “Isn’t it great? Devon found it for us.”
Killian doubted Chase’s parents remembered who the hell Devon was, but they were wise enough not to reveal it.
“Terrance said groom and groom are first,” Chase told him.
“Perfect.” And Killian led Chase away from the parents without another word. He’d said his piece, at least for the moment. And the two of them knew by now that Killian had money and connections of his own in this town—they’d behave.
And Killian’s own parents were waiting on the other side of the veranda, arms already open to embrace Chase, who they loved like … well, like a much more lovable son.
And after photos and dinner and speeches, the family part of the evening would be over, and it would be time to dance and revel with their devoted friends, who had never once let either of them down.
And none of that fucking mattered anyway, because the most important person of all was already at Killian’s side, where he would stay for the remainder of the wedding celebration. Loved, coveted, and protected.
Killian grinned, bright and fierce and proud, as Chase leaned into him, trusting Killian to guide them where they needed to go.
Secure in Killian’s arms.
Just as he would be for the rest of the night.
Just as he would be for the rest of their lives.
The end.