33. CHAPTER 33 #2
"And you always keep asking." Zain climbed onto the bed. Over him. Bracketing Seth's body with his arms, knees on either side of his hips. "Some things are earned."
"I haven't earned it?" Seth's fingers walked up Zain's chest. Traced the script along his ribs, the flowing lines that Seth couldn't read but that his fingers had memorized by touch. "After everything?"
Zain caught his hand. Kissed his knuckles. The gesture that had become theirs. "You've earned everything. I'm just not done making you work for it."
"Control freak."
"Brat."
"Your brat."
"My brat." Zain lowered himself. Pressed the full length of his body against Seth's, skin to skin, and the sound Seth made was gratifying in a way that never got old. "My impossible, infuriating, mouthy, beautiful brat."
"Keep going. I'm accepting compliments."
"Shut up and kiss me."
"See, when you say shut up, all I hear is -"
Zain kissed him.
Seth melted. Every time. The bratting, the defiance, the sharp edges that kept the rest of the world at bay, all of it dissolved the moment Zain's mouth found his. Not because Seth was weak. Because Zain's kiss was the one place Seth had decided he didn't need to be strong.
The kiss went deep. Slow. The frantic urgency of their earlier encounters had burned down to something hotter, something with a longer fuse, the kind of heat that could take its time because it wasn't going anywhere.
"I want to ride you," Seth said against his mouth.
Zain's brain briefly disconnected from his body. "What?"
"You heard me." Seth pushed at his chest. Rolled them. Zain went, too surprised to resist, and then Seth was on top of him, straddling his hips, looking down with an expression that was pure sin wrapped in green eyes and a crooked smile.
"New position," Seth said. "I'm in charge."
"You are absolutely not in charge."
"I'm on top. That makes me in charge. That's physics."
"That's not physics."
"Shut up. Where's the lube?"
"Nightstand. Left side."
Seth leaned over him to reach. The stretch put his chest directly above Zain's face, and Zain took advantage, pressing his mouth to the center of Seth's sternum, then lower, catching a nipple between his teeth.
Seth fumbled the lube. Nearly dropped it. "That's cheating."
"You keep using that word."
"Because you keep cheating." Seth sat back up. Uncapped the lube. Slicked his own fingers.
Zain watched him. "What are you -"
Seth reached behind himself.
The sound Zain made was not dignified. It was not composed.
It was not the sound of a man who had spent six years building walls and turning silence into armor.
It was the sound of a man watching the person he loved open himself up while sitting in his lap, and it bypassed every defense Zain had ever built.
"You like watching," Seth said. His voice was strained, his cheeks flushed, but his eyes stayed on Zain's. Holding. Daring. "I know you do. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention."
"You're always paying attention."
"Curse of my charming personality." Seth added another finger. His head tipped back. His throat was exposed, marked with fading bruises from nights before, and the sight of them, the evidence of Zain's mouth on him, made something possessive and primal growl behind Zain's ribs.
Zain's hands found Seth's thighs. Gripped. His thumbs stroked the inner seam of muscle, close to where Seth's hand was working, close enough to feel the movement.
"You're stalling," Zain said. His voice was wrecked and they hadn't even started.
"I'm preparing. There's a difference. Some of us appreciate the process."
"You once told me you've never been patient in your life."
"I contain multitudes." Seth withdrew his fingers. Reached back and wrapped his slick hand around Zain's cock. The grip was firm, proprietary, and Zain's hips jerked involuntarily. Seth smirked. "Eager."
"I will flip you over."
"No you won't. You want to watch."
He was right. Zain wanted to watch. Wanted to see Seth's face when he sank down, wanted to see the way his expression went from sharp to shattered in the space between one breath and the next.
Seth lined him up. Held eye contact. And sank down in one slow, devastating slide.
They both stopped breathing.
Seth's hands braced on Zain's chest. His fingers curled, nails biting skin. His eyes were closed now, his mouth open, his whole body adjusting, accepting, settling into the fullness with a sound that was half sigh, half moan and entirely obscene.
"Move," Zain said. His hands were on Seth's hips. Not guiding. Holding. Holding on.
"Bossy." Seth opened his eyes. Green and bright and alive. "Say please."
"I have never said please in my life."
"First time for everything."
"Seth."
Seth moved. Rolled his hips in a slow circle that made Zain see stars. Grinned down at him like a man who had found the nuclear codes to his lover's composure and was enjoying every second of the detonation.
"Please," Zain said. The word was gravel. He barely recognized his own voice.
"Was that so hard?"
"I am going to make you pay for this."
"God, I hope so."
Seth rode him. Set a pace that was slow at first, torturously slow, his body rising and falling with a control that was its own kind of power, the power of a man who had spent his life having control taken from him and had learned to wield it like a weapon.
Zain watched from below and let him have it.
Let Seth set the rhythm, the depth, the angle.
Let Seth use his body to find what he needed.
Then Seth found the angle.
His whole body jerked. His nails raked down Zain's chest. "There - right there - fuck -"
"Found it?"
"Don't be smug."
"I'm not smug. I'm observant."
"You're - oh God - you're insufferable -"
Zain planted his feet on the mattress. Thrust up. Hard.
Seth's smugness evaporated. His rhythm broke. His hands scrambled for purchase on Zain's chest and his head fell back and the sound he made was loud enough that somewhere in the safehouse, Jack was absolutely hearing this and absolutely adding it to his arsenal of future commentary.
"You were saying?" Zain said, and thrust again.
"I - fuck - I was saying - I can't remember - Zain -"
Zain sat up. Wrapped his arms around Seth's waist. Changed the angle from below to face-to-face, Seth in his lap, chests pressed together, mouths inches apart.
Intimate and filthy at once. Seth's arms went around his neck and his forehead dropped against Zain's and they moved together, rocking, grinding, finding the rhythm that belonged to them alone.
"This is what you wanted," Zain murmured. His hand slid up Seth's spine. Into his hair. Gripped. Seth whimpered. "Not the argument. Not the op. This."
"This," Seth agreed. Breathless. "Always this."
"My brat."
"My control freak."
"My person."
Seth kissed him. Sloppy, desperate, too far gone for finesse, and Zain swallowed every sound he made and gave them back as low groans that vibrated between their chests.
Zain wrapped his hand around Seth's cock. Seth gasped into his mouth.
"Come for me," Zain said. The same words as every time. Their ritual. Their shorthand for I've got you, let go, I'll be here when you land.
"With you," Seth said. "Together."
"Together."
Zain stroked him fast, tight, his hips driving up to meet Seth's, and the rhythm went ragged, went desperate, went beyond coordination into pure instinct, two bodies chasing the same edge.
Seth went first. He came with his face pressed against Zain's neck and Zain's name breaking apart in his mouth, his whole body clenching, shaking, his arms locked around Zain's shoulders like the world was trying to pull him away and he refused to go.
Zain followed. Seth's body tightened around him and the sight of Seth's face, wrecked and open and incandescent with pleasure, pushed him over.
He came buried inside the man he loved with his hands in his hair and his mouth against his temple and the word stay beating behind his teeth like a second heartbeat.
They collapsed sideways. Tangled. Breathing hard. Seth's leg thrown over Zain's hip, Zain's arm pinned under Seth's shoulder at an angle that would hurt later and that he had zero intention of moving.
"We need to shower," Seth said after a minute.
"Later."
"We need to change these sheets."
"Later."
"Jack is going to make a comment at breakfast."
"Jack makes comments at every breakfast. It's his love language."
Seth snorted. Pressed his face into Zain's chest. His body was loose, warm, sated, the sharp edges softened into something that only Zain got to see.
"Hey," Seth said.
"Hm."
"I'm staying."
"I know."
"Not because you asked. Because I want to."
"I know that too."
"And I'm going to be really annoying about it."
"You're already really annoying."
Seth tilted his head up. Looked at Zain with those green eyes that had measured him from inside a cage six weeks ago and had never stopped measuring and had somewhere along the way decided that what they measured was worth keeping.
"Your annoying," Seth said.
Zain kissed his forehead. His nose. The corner of his mouth.
"My annoying," he confirmed. "My brat. My person. My everything I didn't know I was allowed to want."
Seth's breath hitched. Just once. The crack in the armor where the real person lived.
"Sap," Seth whispered.
"Don't tell Jack."
"I'm absolutely telling Jack."
"Seth."
"He deserves to know his teammate has feelings."
"I will end you."
"You won't." Seth smiled against his mouth. Warm. Certain. Home. "You like me too much."
Zain pulled him closer. Pressed his lips to Seth's hair. Breathed him in.
Outside, the train whistle faded. The city settled. And in a safehouse in Corktown that smelled like risotto and gun oil and two people who had chosen each other in the ruins, Zain held Seth against his chest and felt the last wall he'd ever built turn quietly, finally, to dust.