Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Five Second Head Start
Cass
The silence in the room felt different now that they were alone, charged in a way that made Cass’s skin prickle with electricity.
He was still curled against Riot’s chest, his face pressed into the curve of his throat, breathing in that strawberries-and-cream scent that made everything hurt less, even the negative energy release points.
Cass lifted his head to look at Riot, taking in those green eyes with their glowing gold flecks and the freckles scattered across his nose and cheekbones. “You smell really good,” he said.
Riot smiled. “Yeah? Well, you’re not exactly unpleasant yourself, princess.”
The endearment made warmth bloom in Cass’s chest, and before he could second-guess himself, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the corner of Riot’s mouth. It wasn’t quite a kiss, but it was close, and it made that swooping feeling in his belly intensify.
“I like it when you call me that,” he whispered against Riot’s skin, feeling bold and reckless. Riot’s hand came up to tangle in his hair, the other settling at the small of his back, and Cass melted into the touch.
“Cass,” Riot said, his voice rougher than before. “You need to think about what you’re doing.”
“I am,” he said, tucking his face back against Riot’s neck. His cheeks heated as he said it, but he didn’t want to feel bad about whatever this was anymore. Even if it still made him blush. Even if Brother Matthias would call it spiritually deficient.
“I think I want more of this,” he admitted, then immediately felt the need to add, “I’m sorry if that’s inappropriate. I know I’m probably not supposed to want—I’m sorry.”
Riot’s fingers tightened in his hair. “I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret when this is over.”
“What if I won’t regret it? What if this is exactly what I want?
” He shifted in Riot’s lap, trying to get closer, and the movement created friction between them.
The sensation hit Cass like a spark and he gasped, his hips stuttering forward without his permission, chasing that feeling. “I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.”
“You’re fine.” Riot’s voice was strained. “Just... try to stay still.”
Cass tried, but another cramp rolled through his abdomen, making him curl tighter against Riot’s chest, and the movement ground them together again.
That spark returned, brighter this time, and Cass felt his whole body flush with warmth that wasn’t quite the fever-heat of before.
This was different. Lower. “I’m sorry,” he said again, feeling his face burn. “I can’t—my body keeps—”
He felt a sudden gush of slick and clung tighter to Riot, like if he could hide it from both of their lines of sight, he could pretend it wasn’t happening.
“I’m sorry,” Cass gasped.
“Stop apologizing.” Riot’s voice was strained. “We should slow down—”
But Cass was hard now, harder than he’d ever been, barely contained in his robes. “I don’t want to slow down,” he whimpered, his hips still moving in small, desperate circles. “It feels—when I move, it feels… I don’t want the ache to come back—I’m sorry—”
A hand shot up to grab his face, fingers pressing hard into his cheeks. “You need to stop,” Riot growled. “Right now. Before I lose control.”
Cass whined, caught between the fear that voice inspired and the way his body was still demanding attention. “It feels really good,” he whispered. “But if you’re uncomfortable or... or grossed out by the slick, I’ll stop. I’m sorry—”
Riot’s fingers tightened in his hair and yanked his head back hard enough to make him gasp. His scalp stung, but somehow that sting traveled straight down his spine to pool with everything else building between his legs.
“I need you to stop apologizing,” Riot snarled, his face inches from Cass’s, “and I need you to stop talking bad about yourself, because I am two seconds away from doing something that will hurt you, and I’m barely holding on.”
Cass stared at him with wide eyes, his heart hammering so hard he could feel it in his throat.
He should be scared. Part of him was. But a larger part was focused on the way that grip in his hair was making his whole body light up, the way Riot’s intensity was making the hollow ache transform into an urgent hunger.
“Are you trying to make me run away?” he whispered.
“No,” Riot breathed. “Christ, no. I don’t want you to run. I want you to stay. I want—” He cut himself off, his jaw clenching.
Another wave of heat crashed over Cass, so intense it felt like being submerged in hot water.
His skin was still too tight, too hot, and without thinking he slipped his arms out of his robes, letting the fabric pool around his waist. The air against his bare chest felt like relief, even as Riot’s grip in his hair tightened to the point of real pain.
Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes from the sharp pull, but he didn’t try to move away.
The pain was doing something strange to him, mixing with the heat and embarrassment and the want until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the others began.
Riot noticed immediately, his expression shifting. His hand released Cass’s hair like he’d been burned. “Shit, I’m sorry—”
Cass frowned, missing the intensity even though it hurt. “You don’t have to stop. It was... it was nice. Even if it hurt a little.”
Riot just stared at him, his hands ghosting over Cass’s bare chest, carefully avoiding the bandaged points.
Shame washed over him. “I’m sorry,” Cass whispered. “I’m sorry for putting you in such a strange position. Maybe I misinterpreted everything and you don’t actually want—”
“Last chance, Cass. Stop saying you’re sorry, or else.”
Before Cass could ask what or else meant, Riot was pulling his robes the rest of the way off, letting them fall to the floor.
The sudden exposure made Cass’s whole body flush.
At least before, he had been in his underwear, but this?
He was naked. Fully naked. It felt so improper, so deficient…
only Brother Matthias had seen him this unclothed, and he could feel cool air hitting the wet skin, could feel how obvious his arousal must be.
Another gush of slick pulsed out of him, his body responding to being stripped with more of that mortifying wetness.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “It’s definitely getting on you and I feel—”
Riot leaned forward and bit his shoulder. Hard.
The cry that tore from Cass’s throat surprised him, half pain, half groan. Riot’s teeth sank into the muscle where his shoulder curved toward his arm, and the sharp sting sent lightning crackling through his whole body. Tears streamed down his face, but he wasn’t trying to pull away.
Riot licked the bite mark, his breath hot against the angry flesh. “There. No more apologies.”
But Cass barely heard him. His heart was racing and his head was full of questions and fears and the remembered pressure of cutting metal against his skin and he wanted all of it to stop. He needed it to stop to make the aching go away.
He needed to stop thinking.
“Riot,” he said suddenly, breathless. “If I have a five-second head start, can you still catch me?”
Riot pulled back to stare at Cass. “What?”
Cass scrambled off his lap and ran.
He ran into the hallway, bare feet slapping against cool wood.
Behind him, he heard Riot curse and furniture.
The hallway stretched in both directions.
Left? Right? Everything looked the same in his heat-addled state.
His wounds stung at the sudden movement, bandages pulling against raw skin, but the pain was distant, unimportant.
All that mattered was the thunder of his pulse and the sound of heavy footsteps beginning to follow.
He chose left.
It was thrilling. And terrifying. But the terror felt good somehow. It was burning away all his hesitation, all his overthinking, leaving nothing but instinct: run, hide, escape, get caught.
Get caught.
A door ahead, slightly ajar. He lunged for it—
Riot’s hand caught his shoulder.
The impact sent them both crashing through the doorway. Cass hit the floor of a small bathroom hard, the breath punched out of his lungs, and then Riot’s weight was on top of him, hot and solid and everywhere, pinning him to cold tile.
For a moment all he could do was gasp for air and feel. The chill of the floor against his overheated back. The press of Riot’s body along every inch of his front. The way his heart was trying to beat out of his chest.
“Caught you,” Riot growled against his ear.
The sound of his voice, rough and feral and satisfied, made something clench tight in Cass’s belly.
He’d run, and Riot had chased, and now he was exactly where some deep, instinctual part of him wanted to be.
Completely at the mercy of someone who’d proven he would chase him down without hesitation.
“That wasn’t five seconds,” Cass whispered, breathless and shaky.
“You’re right. It was three.” Riot’s mouth was hot against his ear. “You fucking ran from me. Naked and soaking wet and smelling like—fuck—” His hips ground down hard, and Cass felt the thick length of him. “Can’t even…can barely fucking think when you smell like this—”
Cass whimpered, his body responding to the raw need in that fractured voice.
“I wanted to chase you,” Riot panted against his neck. “I wanted to hunt you down and pin you and spread you open right here on the floor—”
“Riot—”
“Shut up. Can’t—” His hand closed around Cass’s throat. “Three times. Three fucking times I’ve had to stop. I had my finger in this tight little hole and had to stop—”
His free hand was running over one of Cass’s thighs, still avoiding his bandages. “In the hotel, I could smell your wet cunt through your clothes. I wanted to rip them off and bury my fucking face in it.”
Cass gasped at the crude words, shame flooding through him, but Riot wasn’t stopping.