Chapter Twenty-One #4
“Was that too much, sweet boy? Feel too good?” he asks, and I’m nodding viciously, sobbing at nothing as I try to regain my sense of self. I think he just stole my soul. “I’m sorry. I got greedy. Here, let me show you how sorry I am.”
I hear the sound of foil ripping, and my blurry eyes set themselves onto Rowan once more, catching his movements as he rolls on the condom and adds more lube to it.
“Oh, fuck,” I whine, anticipating what’s to come.
Rowan slides an arm under my back and, as if I weigh nothing, drags me up the bed until I’m situated in the center. Then he lies between my legs, leaning down to kiss the corner of my mouth gently.
“Are you ready?” he asks, and I take a deep breath.
“No,” I whisper, and Rowan just nods his head, dropping his mouth to plant wet kisses on the side of my neck.
I can feel the head of his cock pulsing against my hole, but I’m fucking spent and writhing against the bed.
“Are you okay?” Rowan sounds nervous now, as if he’s scared he’s pushed me too far.
A small chuckle escapes me, and I lift my hands to cup his face. The action feels like holding two one-hundred-pound weights above my head.
“I’m more than okay. I just… need a second,” I say softly. Rowan nods again, rubbing his nose along mine as he waits patiently. “Tell me something.”
He tilts his head in question. “Anything?”
“Yeah.”
His green eyes observe me for a moment, as if calculating his next move.
“You were made for me,” he suddenly says, and I find that I can’t breathe.
Rowan is looking at me like he’s confessing a dark, precious secret.
“If you told me I could never fuck you again, I’d still follow you around like a lost puppy.
I’d become a monk in your honor; I’ll do anything you ask of me. ”
“Rowan,” I breathe, and he smiles softly.
“Everything in me is screaming to claim you. To bury my teeth so deeply inside of you that you can never look into a mirror again without remembering me. Just the very image of you would be a reflection of me.”
I’m panting beneath him, and unbelievably, my dick has begun to harden again. It normally takes me at least twenty minutes to get it back up—but not with Rowan, apparently.
“Do it,” I hear myself say, and Rowan seems just as shocked at my words.
“No. You don’t understand; I want to scar you. I want to bite you and make you bleed and cry so that you can’t forget me. That’s… a lot more than a hickey, Eli.”
Rowan’s gentle hands run over my hair, playing with stray curls as he gazes down at me.
Something in his eyes tells me that he hopes I’ll insist again anyway. Luckily for him, I don’t want to forget him. Even when he’s gone—I want to remember.
“Do it,” I repeat, and Rowan makes me sit with that request for a moment before he nudges the head of his cock against my entrance again.
“Say it one more time. Command me. Demand it from me.”
I lock my ankles behind his back, keeping his face in my hands. “Bite me, Rowan. Make me bleed.”
Rowan closes his eyes, inhaling loudly as he works through whatever is causing his mind to race a mile a minute.
“Are you ready?” he finally asks, those green eyes opening to meet mine, and I know he’s asking if I’m ready for more than his bite.
“Yes,” I say, tightening my hold on him. He grins.
Rowan dips his head to my chest, finding his spot over the meat at the top corner of my right pec. Then, as he sinks fully into me with one singular thrust, he buries his teeth beneath my skin.
The combination of the two provides me with no pleasure.
It’s a hot, searing pain on both ends, and I can feel my dick soften to half-mass at the sensation. I’m sobbing, heavy tears that follow a sudden, loud scream.
I hear no skin tear; I don’t hear the sound of lube squelching as he pushes into me. Instead, I hear the force of his guttural moan and my own cries. I feel the shaking in his body and the warm flow of my own blood as it escapes from between his teeth.
Rowan has marked me. He has sunk himself into me in more ways than one, and even through the pain, I am happy for it. If this is the last time I am to ever see him, I’d still be happy for it.
I wonder why that is.
Rowan pulls off of my chest, and as I stare at him through tear-filled eyes, I can see my blood on his lips, coating his teeth. He’s bottomed out inside of me, but has yet to move.
“Fuck, oh, fuck,” he groans, and a few drops of his sweat fall from his hair and onto my face to mix in with my tears. “I can’t… I can’t move, or I’ll come. I’m sorry.”
Rowan’s forehead drops to mine, and I breathe him in. The metallic scent of blood, chrysanthemums, and the smell of our sweat.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, rubbing my hands through his hair. “It’s okay.”
“Did… did it hurt?” he asks, and I nod.
“Yes. It hurt badly,” I say honestly, and when he tenses, I let my fingers run down his back. “It was perfect.”
Rowan groans again, slowly pulling from my body only to push back in. He stays just like that: his forehead pressed to mine as he thrusts inside of me with a gentle, tedious pace.
He pants into my mouth, fists clenched at either side of my head.
I think he’s holding himself back—I think he’s overwhelmed with something I can’t name, but I can surely taste on his skin and in every moan that falls from his mouth and lands against my own.
“You feel so good,” Rowan praises, and I can feel him twitch from inside of me. “You tasted so good, too. I can’t even look at it without wanting to come.”
He’s talking about the mark, and somehow that makes me hornier. Rowan feels it too as I harden completely once again, his fists tightening further.
“I want to see,” I say, breathing heavily against each slow thrust. A steady heat is building inside of me, and if I don’t look now, I’ll be the one coming when I see it as this pleasure builds.
Rowan pushes himself up slightly, and I crane my neck down to see the bloody outline of his teeth carved into my chest. Something hot surges through me—something familiar and new all at once.
“Hngh,” I groan, and I can feel myself tightening on reflex around his cock. Rowan’s hips jerk as he chokes on air.
“Oh, god,” he whimpers, and that spurs me on even further.
I find myself pushing down onto him, meeting his every thrust. The new movement causes him to shift slightly, and now he’s hitting that little spot inside of me, and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from his teeth etched into my skin.
“It’s… it’s so hot,” I say, and Rowan’s panting grows heavier. I can feel his eyes on my face; I can feel his sweat mixing with mine where our skin is flush together.
“My sweet angel,” he mutters, his hips jerking forward roughly, which pulls a loud moan from my throat. “With my teeth on your chest and my cock buried in your ass, I bet you look like mine. I bet anyone would look at you and think you look just like Rowan Alexander’s little angel.”
I’m so close to coming again. Just from that one sentence alone, I feel as if I’ll come at any second. But I refuse to finish without him—not again. I roll my hips down onto him once more.
“You tell me,” I say, finally looking up to meet his gaze. My hands find his cheeks again. “Watch how deeply your cock is fucking into me, see how you’ve made me bleed, and tell me if I look like I belong to you.”
Rowan whines gently, his bottom lip trembling as his eyes fall from mine to where he’s disappearing inside of me over and over again. His breathing picks up even further, his hips shoving forward harder.
I have to grit my teeth to keep from coming. Come on, Rowan.
Those green eyes trail up my body almost hesitantly, as if he’s scared to see. As if ending this moment means ending the two of us—that we’ll die here together.
Finally, his eyes land on the bloody mark on my chest, and his mouth falls open as a loud, long groan escapes him.
I feel it as Rowan comes, as warmth spreads inside of me while he empties into the condom. His hips jerk forward relentlessly, his stomach rubbing my dick raw.
Seeing his expression—the sheer desire and awe at his own handiwork and what it signifies—it sends me right over the edge. I’d already been balancing there for so long.
And Rowan is fucking me through my release. He’s fucking me like he’s apologizing, like he’s sorry. Like he’s begging for redemption.
A devoted follower offering his body to the angel he worships so desperately that he’d rip into their flesh with his bare teeth.
And I wish I could pinpoint what he’s apologizing for. I wish I could find it and wrap it in my fist so that I can crush it and quell his crying—but how am I meant to do that around my own tears?
Rowan is clinging to me through each sob, each combined cry. We share this pleasure, this pain, this unfiltered desire and need. And as much as he’s claimed me, I’m realizing I never want him to let me go.
Keep chasing me, Rowan. Continue to dig your teeth into my skin and devote your time to me. I can be your angel. I can be good.
“Elijah,” he chokes out, sending one last harsh thrust into my body. “Fuck, Elijah. You looked so good. Say it, please. I’m begging you. Say it.”
He’s not being direct, but I understand him. Somehow, I always seem to understand him.
“I belong to you, my flower. I belong to you,” I tell him.
And Rowan continues to cry.
With my blood between his teeth and my arms wrapped securely around him, Rowan lies over me and intertwines his tears with mine.