Chapter 10 #2
Heat surges through my veins, blood rushing south so fast it leaves me dizzy. He’s offering his body. Offering to let me take what I need without having to ask for it. The possibility of release, not from pain but from pleasure, opens before me like a door I never expected to find.
I stare at him, searching him for signs of hesitation and finding only certainty.
“You don’t understand what you’re offering,” I warn, rough with desire.
“I think I do.” He rises from the floor in one fluid motion, closing the distance between us with measured steps. “I’m choosing this. Take what you need.”
My restraint snaps like a wire pulled too tight.
I surge forward, hands finding his shoulders, pushing him back against the wall hard enough to rattle the framed Rockwell print beside his head.
My mouth crashes into his neck, teeth scraping over skin, not quite biting but testing the give of flesh beneath them.
Gabriel tilts his head, granting access without resistance. His hands hover at my sides, waiting for permission to touch.
I grab his wrists, pinning them to the wall above his head in one hand. “Don’t move.”
His pupils dilate, black swallowing hazel. “Okay.”
My free hand tears at his buttons, popping several free in my haste to reach skin.
The expensive fabric parts, revealing the smooth plane of his chest, the defined ridges of his abdomen, and a black tattoo over his left pec.
My palm slides over heated flesh, tracing the curve of the clock and gears.
Gabriel doesn’t strike me as someone who would ink his skin, but it suits him. My thumb finds his nipple, and his pulse leaps beneath my fingertips.
“Too many clothes,” I growl, releasing his wrists to yank his shirt down his arms.
Gabriel shrugs out of the torn fabric and lets it fall to the floor. His hands return to his sides, patient and still as I unbutton his jeans with clumsy, urgent fingers.
The denim slides down his thighs, taking the black boxer briefs with it. His cock springs free, already hard and flushed dark with blood. I drop to my knees, pulling the clothing past his ankles, tapping each foot to lift so I can remove his pants.
When I rise, he stands naked before me, vulnerability and strength combined in the lean lines of his body.
“Bed,” I order, pushing him toward the mattress in the center of the room.
He moves without resistance, climbing onto the bed and positioning himself on hands and knees without being told. The sight of him waiting, back arched, sends a fresh wave of heat to my aching groin.
I finish stripping, tossing my clothes aside without care for where they land. The nightstand drawer yields a bottle of lube, half-empty and sticky around the cap. I squirt some onto my fingers, and the cold liquid warms to match my body temperature.
Gabriel’s breathing quickens as I position myself behind him, one hand spreading him open while the other circles his entrance with slick fingers. The tight ring of muscle twitches under my touch, resistant but yielding as I push one finger inside with minimal preparation.
He tenses, a small hiss escaping between clenched teeth, but his hips rock backward, taking the intrusion deeper.
A second finger joins the first too fast for his body to adjust, stretching him with more speed than care.
His muscles clench around the invasion, fighting the burn even as he spreads his knees wider in silent invitation.
“It’s okay,” he pants, head dropping between his shoulders. “I can take it.”
The permission unleashes a primal need within me. I withdraw my fingers and coat my length with lube, the sensation almost painful on my oversensitive skin. Positioning myself at his entrance, I grip his hips hard enough to leave fingerprints on his skin.
The first push meets resistance, his body tight around the head of my dick. Gabriel’s breath catches, muscles tensing as I push forward. I should slow down. Should take more time to stretch him. But the need for release claws at my insides, demanding satisfaction.
With a grunt, I breach the tight ring of muscle. Gabriel’s back arches, a strangled sound caught in his throat as his body yields to the intrusion. The tight heat surrounding me sends sparks shooting up my spine, and my hips snap forward, burying myself in one hard thrust.
“Fuck,” I gasp, overwhelmed by the sensation.
His body clenches around me, strangling my dick, and waves of pleasure crash through me, shorting out rational thought.
I pull back and thrust again, establishing a punishing rhythm. Gabriel’s arms tremble with the effort of holding himself up, his breath coming in ragged pants that might be pleasure or pain or both.
The pressure that’s been building inside me all night finds its focus, narrowing to the tight friction around my dick, the slap of skin on skin, the heat of another body beneath mine.
I lose myself in the sensation, yanking his hips back to meet my hard thrusts as I chase release with single-minded desire.
Gabriel takes it all without complaint, his body rocking forward with the force of my movements. Some small whisper of reason reminds me this isn’t only about me, and I reach beneath him for his cock, only to find him only half hard.
The realization cuts through the haze of lust. While I’m enjoying the hell out of this, I’m hurting him. Using his body without care for his pleasure. Taking what I need without giving in return.
My rhythm falters, hips stuttering to a stop as clarity washes through me. Gabriel’s back rises and falls with ragged breaths, skin flushed and damp with sweat.
Confused, he turns his head, revealing the tear tracks on his cheek, and the sight stops me cold, horror replacing desire in an instant.
What kind of monster am I?
I pull out of Gabriel’s body, the sudden absence of heat leaving me cold despite the sweat coating my skin. His body trembles beneath my hands as I turn him over onto his back, gentle now where I was rough before.
A flush reddens his cheeks, eyes bright with unshed tears, and shame crashes through me in waves. I’ve become the very thing I hate, someone who uses power to hurt rather than protect.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my thumb catches a tear tracking down his temple, wiping it away. “Gabe, I’m so sorry.”
He shakes his head, one hand rising to cup my cheek. “It’s okay. I knew what I was offering.”
“You should care more about yourself.” My voice breaks on the words. “Don’t let me hurt you to spare myself.”
I bend to brush my lips across the tear trails on his cheeks, tasting salt on my tongue. My mouth follows the path of another tear, then another, gentle kisses replacing each evidence of pain I caused. His breath hitches, chest rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm.
“Saint,” he murmurs, fingers threading into my hair, neither pulling nor pushing, just holding.
I trace the curve of his jaw with my lips, following the path up to his temple, across his forehead, and down the bridge of his nose, drawing ever closer to the lush curve of his lips.
I kiss the corner of his mouth, and his lips part with a gasp. It would take nothing for him to turn his head, to steal this last line of defense from me.
But he stays still, giving me the choice.
Shifting, my lips hover over his, our breath mingling.
Slowly, giving myself time to retreat, I close the final distance. Our lips meet, soft and tentative, and electricity shoots through my body, igniting nerves laid dormant for years. The kiss deepens, Gabriel’s mouth opening beneath mine, and heat spreads through my limbs like wildfire.
I’ve kissed before, quick, meaningless exchanges as precursors to sex in my teens. This is different from those fumbling attempts. My heart pounds as his tongue slides against mine, and I moan as I cover his strong body, my mouth drinking in the taste of him.
Gabriel’s arms come around me, pulling me closer, and his legs wrap high around my waist in silent invitation. The shift brings our bodies flush together, skin to skin, my hard dick sliding along the crease of his thigh, still slick with lube.
With far more care than before, I reach between us, guiding myself back to his entrance.
The angle is different, allowing me to watch him as I push inside, gauging his reaction with each inch.
Already stretched from before, his body accepts me more easily now, but I move with small thrusts, giving him time to adjust each time before I go deeper.
When I’m seated inside his tight channel, I pause, breathing hard through my nose. The tight heat surrounds me, the same as before, but the urgency has transformed into a deeper desire.
Gabriel’s thighs tighten around me, heels digging into the small of my back to draw me closer. “Move, please.”
I withdraw and thrust back in, establishing a gentle rhythm that builds without the punishing force of before.
Gabriel’s breath catches on each thrust, his cock hardening between our bodies.
I shift to free one hand, reaching between us to wrap my fingers around his length, stroking in time with my thrusts.
His back arches into my touch. “Yes, like that,” he encourages with renewed arousal. “So good, Saint.”
The praise washes over me, sinking into starved soil.
I capture his mouth again, swallowing his moans as I speed my strokes, my thumb circling the head of his cock where pre-cum beads at the tip.
His body tightens around me with each touch, inner muscles gripping around my dick and sending sparks up my spine.
“I want you to come,” I murmur against his jaw, surprising myself with the admission. “Want to feel you lose control because of me.”
Gabriel’s hands slide down my back, fingers digging into my ass to guide my movements deeper, harder, but still nothing like the bruising pace from before. “Keep touching me like that, and I will.”
I twist my wrist on the upstroke, thumb massaging the sensitive spot under the head. His breathing fractures, chest heaving beneath mine as pleasure builds between us, shared rather than taken.
When he comes, his entire body goes taut, back arching off the mattress as heat spills over my fingers. A cry tears from his throat as his ass clenches tight around my dick. The exquisite pressure and rippling muscles wring my own orgasm from me with unexpected force.
I bury my face in his neck, teeth scraping his skin as I spill inside him, hips jerking in uncontrolled thrusts. Stars burst behind my eyelids, pleasure crashing through my body in waves that leave me gasping and trembling above him.
For long moments, we lie tangled together, sweat cooling on our skin as our breathing steadies. I should move, should pull away and retreat to my usual safe distance.
Instead, I find myself relaxing into his embrace, allowing his arms to hold me without the panic of confinement setting in.
Gabriel’s fingers trace patterns on my back, his touch soothing as if I’m the one who was hurt.
When I shift to lie beside him, his arm stays around me, hand resting on my hip. The touch grounds me without restraining, and I find myself leaning into it rather than pulling away.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, already half asleep.
I turn my head to look at him, studying the trust written across his face, and all at once, I realize I don’t want to hurt Gabriel. Not with fists or words or indifference.
And that’s why wanting him is so dangerous. Because caring means vulnerability. Caring means having someone to lose. Caring means trusting another person not to leave scars on me.
From the first day he appeared in front of me, this was never about sex or convenience or release.
This was always about the terrifying possibility that someone might see all the violence, the scars, and the darkness, and want me anyway.