Chapter 19 Surrender #2
I tried. Let my muscles unclench, let my breath even out. His mouth closed around me, and the pleasure was sharp enough to cut through everything else—the nerves, the memories, the ghost of my father's voice whispering wrong, wrong, wrong.
Then his finger pressed against my entrance, slick with lube, and the voice got louder.
Faggot. Disgusting. No son of mine—
"Hey." Kai's voice, pulling me back. "Where'd you go?"
"Nowhere good." I forced my eyes open, focused on his face. "Keep going."
"You sure?"
"Yes." I reached down, tangled my fingers in his hair. "Replace it. Please."
He understood. His finger pushed in—slow, careful—and I made myself breathe through it. The stretch was strange. Not painful, not with how gentle he was being, but foreign. My body wanted to resist. I didn't let it.
"That's it," Kai murmured. "You're doing so good. Just relax, let me in."
A second finger joined the first. The stretch intensified, and somewhere in my chest, something cracked open. Fear and shame and years of denial, all flooding to the surface.
You think a man lets another man do this to him? You think this is what I raised?
"I hear him," I gasped. "My father. I hear him."
Kai stilled. "Do you want me to stop?"
"No." The word came out fierce. "No. Keep going. I won't let him win. Never again."
His free hand found mine, squeezed tight. "Look at me, Axel. Don't close your eyes—look at me."
I looked. Dark eyes, warm and steady. The face of the man I loved. The man who'd seen every broken piece of me and stayed anyway.
"It's just us," Kai said. "Just you and me. Whatever he said, whatever he made you believe—it's not true. You're not wrong. You're not disgusting. You're the man I love, and I've never wanted anyone more."
A third finger. The stretch burned, but underneath—underneath there was something else. Pleasure, building slow and electric.
"There," I managed. "Right there—"
He curled his fingers, found the spot that made my vision white out. I heard myself moan—a sound I'd never made, raw and desperate.
"Good?" he asked.
"Good. More. Please—"
He worked that spot until I was shaking, until I was begging, until my father's voice had faded to nothing but static. And then—silence. The voice was gone. Just gone.
And in its place was want.
I looked at Kai—really looked at him. The lean muscle of his arms as he worked me open. The flush spreading down his chest. His cock, hard and leaking, jutting toward me. He was beautiful. He was mine. And I wanted him inside me so badly I could barely breathe.
"Now," I demanded. "I need you now."
He withdrew his fingers, and I felt the loss like an ache. Watched him slick his cock with trembling hands. Watched him position himself between my spread thighs.
"Ready?" he asked.
I nodded. I didn't trust my voice.
The first press of him was overwhelming. Too much, too big, my body screaming to pull away. I grabbed his shoulders, anchored myself.
"Breathe," Kai said. "Push out. Let me in."
I breathed. He pressed forward, inch by impossible inch. And then he was inside me.
I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. The fullness was absolute—not just physical, but something deeper. Like he'd found a hollow place in my chest I hadn't known existed and filled it.
"Axel?" His voice was strained, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding still. "Talk to me."
"I'm—" The word cracked. "I'm okay. It's a lot. But I'm okay."
"Should I move?"
"Not yet. Just—stay. Let me feel you."
He stayed. Held himself perfectly still while I adjusted, while my body stopped fighting and started accepting. The pain faded. What replaced it was pressure, fullness, and a growing heat that radiated from somewhere deep. Then he shifted—just slightly—and brushed against that spot inside me.
"Oh fuck," I breathed.
"Good?"
"Do that again."
He did. Pulled back an inch, pushed forward, hit that spot dead-on. Pleasure shot through me, sharp and bright, nothing like I'd expected. This wasn't just tolerable. This was good. This was incredible.
"More," I demanded. "I won't break."
"I know you won't." He thrust deeper, and I gasped. "But I want to worship you. Let me worship you."
"Worship me later." I grabbed his hips, pulled him harder against me. "Right now I want you to fuck me."
Something shifted in his eyes. The careful restraint cracked.
He started to move—really move. Long, deep strokes that built the pleasure like waves.
His hands gripped my thighs, spreading me wider, lifting my ass higher, giving him a better angle.
The sound of his hips meeting my ass filled the room, obscene and perfect.
"God, you feel amazing," he groaned. "So tight, so hot—"
"Harder." I was past shame now, past fear, past everything except the need building in my core. "Kai, harder—"
He gave me harder. Drove into me with force that punched the air from my lungs, that made the headboard slam against the wall. I arched into every thrust, chasing the pleasure, drowning in it. My cock was so hard it ached, leaking onto me, desperate for attention.
"Touch me," I begged. "I need—I'm so close—"
His hand wrapped around my cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation was overwhelming—filled and stroked, taken and worshipped. I could feel the orgasm building at the base of my spine, coiling tighter with every movement.
"I love you," he said, voice wrecked. "I love you, I love you—"
"I love you too—fuck, right there, don't stop—"
He didn't stop. Drove into me relentlessly, hand working my cock, hitting that spot inside me on every thrust. The pleasure crested, peaked—
"Kai!" I came with a shout, cock pulsing in his grip, cum shooting across my chest and abs in wave after wave. My hole clenched around him with each burst, and I heard him curse.
"Fuck—Axel—I'm—"
He buried himself to the hilt and followed me over, groaning my name as he pulsed inside me. I felt every throb, every burst of heat, and it set off another aftershock that made me cry out.
He collapsed against my chest, both of us gasping, slick with sweat and cum. For a long moment, neither of us moved. I didn't want him to pull out—wanted to stay like this forever, connected, complete. His cock was still hard inside me, twitching with the last echoes of his release.
"Hey." His voice was muffled against my neck. "You okay?"
I laughed—a wet, broken sound. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."
"You're crying."
Was I? I touched my face, found it wet. "Apparently."
"Good tears or bad tears?"
"I don't know." I pulled him closer, held him tight. "Both, maybe. Everything."
He didn't push. Just held me, stroked my hair, let me shake apart in his arms. The tears came harder—years of them, decades of shame and fear and self-hatred pouring out in the safety of his embrace.
"He was wrong," I said when I could speak again. "My father. Everything he said, everything he did—he was wrong."
"Yeah." Kai pressed a kiss to my forehead. "He was."
"I wasted so many years."
"You survived. That's not wasting—that's fighting." He pulled back, met my eyes. "And now you're free. Whatever you want to be, whoever you want to love—you're free."
Free. The word settled into my chest, warm and true. "I want to be yours," I said. "Tomorrow, in front of everyone. I want them to know."
"They'll know." His smile was radiant. "Everyone will know."
We lay tangled together as the candles burned down. My body ached in new ways—good ways, ways that made me smile every time I shifted. Kai was tracing patterns on my chest again, that familiar route of his, and I was drifting somewhere between sleep and waking.
"Thank you," I murmured.
"For what?"
"For being patient. For not pushing. For waiting until I was ready."
"I would have waited forever." He pressed a kiss to my chest. "You were worth waiting for."
"Sap."
"Your sap. Tomorrow it'll be official."
Tomorrow. The claiming ceremony. Kai, standing in front of my brothers, accepting the cut that marked him as mine. "I should be nervous," I said. "I'm not. Is that weird?"
"Probably means we're doing the right thing."
"Probably."
Silence stretched between us, comfortable and warm.
"Tyler's going to sponsor me," Kai said eventually. "Hawk suggested it. Said it might give him roots here, whatever he decides about the FBI."
"What do you think he'll decide?"
"I don't know. But I saw the way he looked at Tank tonight." Kai's voice was thoughtful. "Maybe it depends on what—or who—he finds worth staying for."
"Tank's a good man."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it’s obviously true." I smiled against his hair. "Maybe you foster boys have a type."
"Big, brooding, emotionally constipated bikers?"
"Apparently."
He laughed, soft and warm. "Could be worse."
"Could be much worse."
Outside, the night was quiet. Tomorrow would bring ceremony and celebration, the official beginning of our life together. But tonight was just us—two men who'd found each other against impossible odds, building something neither of us had dared to hope for.
"I love you," Kai said, already half-asleep.
"I love you too."
The candles flickered. The darkness pressed close. I listened to his breathing slow, felt his heartbeat steady against my chest.
Tomorrow, he'd stand in front of my brothers and become mine. Officially. Publicly. But lying there, watching candlelight dance across his face, I realized something.
It wasn't enough. I didn't just want a claiming ceremony. I wanted everything. The ring. The vows. The whole damn future, whatever that looked like for two men who'd found each other in blood and chaos.
I was going to ask him. Not tomorrow—that was his day, his moment. But someday.
The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it felt like the first certain thing I'd known in years.