Chapter 19 Bash
Bash
Fuck, I’d missed this.
The flex of his muscles under my hands, the heat of his skin against my tongue, and the way his taste floods my mouth like something sacred I’d been starved of for years.
And the noises he makes…
Gods, those noises.
Xeni is loud, untamed, and completely lacking any control once he lets go. It’s a heady thing to be at the center of that desperate attention.
It’s something I’ve missed every waking moment of the past four years. Not just the sex, but the intimacy. The familiar comfort and all-encompassing bliss I’ve only ever found with him.
Real struggles wait outside these walls, and Xeni and I have barely begun unpacking the damaged pieces of our past, but right now, I let myself live in ignorance.
I pretend for these stolen minutes that everything is okay.
My hands squeeze tighter around his waist, needing to pull him as close as two people could possibly be. When I do, his spine arches, head snapping back with a gasp.
His long hair tickles my stomach, and the lean, defined muscles of his abs clench as he bears down on my mouth. His thighs quiver and shake, squeezing my head between them in a way that makes my blood roar.
He’s gone, and I’m utterly enamored as I watch him soar.
My name falls from his lips and I'm convinced it's a prayer.
Even through the soaked satin of his panties, I feel his muscles contract in deep, rhythmic pulses. Warm release soaks the fabric as I suck harder, coating my mouth and chin with his flavor while he writhes above me, helpless and perfect.
His undoing is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Control slips entirely as his cock pushes from his body, barely contained by the material and pressing against the satin as another burst of thick release leaks through.
More whimpers and whines fill the room as his fingers tighten in my hair, and I feel too big for my own skin as he uses me for his pleasure, riding the waves without shame.
His comedown is just as intoxicating. He trembles, thighs loosening their grip on my head as heavy breaths push from his lungs. Slowly, he scoots back to sit on my chest, and I drink in the sight of him.
He’s so fucking beautiful.
Sweat makes his skin dewy, his pale face flushed a deep rose while his lips part on ragged breaths. He bites them when he loses himself, and it leaves them puffy and half-bruised.
For a moment, the eyepatch jars me, and rage flares hot in my chest at what was taken from him. But then Xeni stares down at me in quiet wonder, and the crippling heaviness he carries seems to lift.
He’s light and free, and happy in a way that makes it feel like he never left. The tiniest smile tilts his lips as he catches his breath, and for just a moment, I forget I’ve spent the last four years angry.
Instead, I just feel.
Everything I’ve tried to bury comes rushing back, and my protective armor strips away as memories flood in.
Xeni’s smile from across the room when we had to hide our relationship, and the ache in my heart because I couldn’t touch him. The way he’d catch my pinkie in passing or lean his knee against mine under the table, and how it had to be enough until we were behind closed doors.
How he’d collapse into my lap at night, crying over what he’d been forced to do, and how I felt like the most powerful man in the world because I somehow always managed to make it better.
The way he made me love like I never thought possible.
The words hover on my lips.
That I love him, and that I never stopped.
But Xeni scoots lower and drops his hands on either side of my head, and his kiss saves me from baring my heart when we don’t know what our future holds. He protects me from my impulses that want to pretend these past years didn’t happen.
They did.
They happened, and they broke us.
But he kisses me with his entire body, and it weakens my defenses further. We’re desperate for that lost connection, both of us shoving at my clothes to remove every barrier. The elastic of my shorts bands around my thighs as Xeni loses patience and reaches for me, fingers wrapping around my cock.
He pauses, fingertips trailing along my length before tracing the curved barbell at the tip. It’s a feather-light touch, but it sends sparks shooting up my spine.
“That’s new,” he mutters, his eye snapping to mine with a different kind of heat—dark, possessive, and edged with something sharp.
A teasing grin tugs at my lips. “Don’t like it?”
“I don’t like that you got it for someone other than me,” he admits, the words clipped. His jealousy flares hot in his gaze as his thumb circles the piercing again, like he’s claiming it now.
I arch a brow, letting my hips lift into his teasing. “I got it for me, princess. And besides… three months without sex? You could’ve never lasted that long without breaking.”
He grunts, the sound wavering between frustrated and amused, even though we both know I’m right.
His fingers linger, dancing over both ends of the barbell once more before he hooks his panties and holds them aside as he lines us up.
“It is maybe a little sexy,” he concedes, voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leans forward. His lips find mine in a kiss that’s all heat and challenge while he sinks down slowly, taking me in inch by torturous inch.
My brows furrow as he cries out against my lips, and I pull back, noting the tremble in his limbs.
“Easy,” I murmur, despite the burning need to drive upward and bury myself in him.
“I can take it,” he breathes, voice damn near gasping as he slips another inch inside. “I’m wet… I’m ready.”
Slick slides down my cock as his body fights to accept me, but when I try to slow him down, he shakes his head frantically.
“I need this, Bash,” he begs.
My heart pounds as I push his hair from his face and nod. “Then you’ll have it.”
He’s so fucking tight, and he moans again as he takes more. I grip his hips, but despite his lean, willowy frame, he’s stronger than me.
He snatches my wrists and pins them above my head, bringing us face to face. Ecstasy paints his features as he lifts and slides back down.
My body comes alive for the first time in years. Fire ignites in my heart and spreads like an inferno through my veins. Skin meets skin in sharp, wet slaps, and he keeps me pinned as he takes all of me.
Both of us call out into the small space between us before his mouth finds mine and our pleasure-filled sounds become muffled. His hips snap forward, and my knees lift, heels pressing into the mattress for leverage.
His body yields so beautifully, like it was made just for me.
Designed to be mine.
So much slick has formed it pools on my groin and thighs, and the sharp, rhythmic slap rings through the room every time he drops his weight. Every sense is overloaded, and it takes no time before my body winds tight.
“Xeni,” I gasp, pulling my mouth from his, eyes wide.
His lip lifts in that pleased smirk that shows the tips of his teeth. I try to free my arms, to grab him and slow the pace, but he tightens his grip and swivels his hips in a way that has my eyes rolling back.
White hair falls around us like a curtain, isolating us from the world as he speeds up.
It’s my turn to chant his name, but I don’t know if it’s too much or not enough as he rides me. He whines with every lift, then moans as he sinks down again. His cock is fully extended and pinned between our bodies, any remnant of control long gone.
The dull thump of the headboard becomes a loud, rhythmic cadence that I’m convinced everyone on this side of the building can hear, but I’m beyond caring as my balls draw tight and my muscles coil.
My name leaves him in a whisper, and he gasps as his body contracts. Warmth spreads over my stomach while his eye flares in surprise.
It throws me over the edge, and I thrust up into him as pressure breaks in blinding waves. Ecstasy hurdles to every extremity in my body, causing my muscles to pulse and teeth to grit. Even my toes curl against the sheets, and finally, he releases my wrists.
My hands find him immediately—one banding around his waist while the other weaves into his hair. I hold him impossibly tight as my release pushes the air from my lungs, and our mouths move together, not quite kissing, just desperately sharing breath.
Xeni’s thighs flex as he rides me through the aftershocks, his slow motions milking the last pulses from my cock until I hiss with oversensitivity.
He kisses me properly now, deliberate and sweet, then lifts his hips. A mess of fluid leaks between us, and for a few serene moments, we just lie there. His head rests on my chest, listening to my heartbeat like he always did, so careful not to graze me with his horns.
I wish it could stay like this.
The high fades as our heart rates settle, and I glance at the clock with a quiet groan.
Xeni kisses my pec and looks up in question.
“There’s a lot going on right now,” I say carefully. “I should probably get out there and handle some work.”
“Did I interrupt something important last night?” he asks, pushing up to sit. Uncertainty crosses his face, and his arms cross over his chest like he’s trying to hide.
The shyness is foreign on him. Xeni used to parade naked whenever he could, flaunting the body he knew I loved. He’s thinner now, but no less beautiful because of it.
The insecurity runs deeper, though… and it’s warranted.
I’m unsure where this leaves us, too.
“Yeah,” I admit after a pause. “We were wrapping up when you, uh… came in. I need to check on everything this morning.”
“Is there anything I can help with?”
His eye flicks up to mine, and he looks so hopeful.
I hesitate.
He blanches as if I’ve struck him, then scrambles to mask it, and it’s heartbreaking to watch the walls go up. For years, I saw him pretend to be unbothered and arrogant around others, but never with me.
“I see,” he says quietly, standing to search for his discarded shirt.
“It’s not… it’s not you,” I say, unsure which one of us I’m trying to convince.
He pulls my shirt over his head and flashes that painfully cheerful fake smile. “It’s fine, Bash. You needed to let off steam, and that’s…” His voice falters before he steadies it. “That’s what I’m good at. What I’m… here for.”
“Xeni, no—wait,” I call as he turns toward the door, shoulders thrown back in false bravado. “Don’t go. Not like this.”
He hesitates with his hand on the knob before glancing over his shoulder. I yank my shorts up and stand, blatantly aware of the fluids drying on my stomach and thighs. Neither of us knows what to say, but eventually, Xeni breaks the silence.
“Do you remember me telling you about my father?” he asks.
I force a rough swallow as I nod.
Xeni rarely spoke of his childhood or family, even to me. My stories of loving parents were met with quiet longing he tried to hide. I could picture him as a child, seeking approval from strict military parents who saw him as little more than an order fulfilled.
They were encouraged to repopulate after the rifts closed.
Produce the future and pass on the superior genetics.
He was raised by caretakers then shipped to a military academy while his parents lived their crafted life without him. Only when he earned accolades in Project V did they notice, and even then, affection was never given.
It always made me sick.
Xeni’s gaze drops to the knob, sex-rumpled hair curtaining his face in a white veil that hides the storm brewing behind it.
“My whole life, I’ve been a pawn,” he says into the suffocating silence. “A piece in someone else’s game. I’m… used to being used, Bash.”
He glances up briefly, just long enough for me to catch the sadness in his eye. “If I’m going to be used by anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”
“That’s not what this is,” I insist.
He shakes his head while staring at the floor. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about me. I’ll stay out of your way, and I’ll… I’ll wait for you. I can be patient. I know you don't think I can be, but I can,” he says, not taking a moment to breathe.
“Xen—” I try to interrupt, but it's like he doesn't even hear me.
He shakes his head in a movement that feels manic. “I can,” he insists again. “I’ve waited this long. I’ll be good… I promise I can be good.”
His voice chokes on the last word, and he takes a deep breath that squares his shoulders again. The fragile armor he hides behind rebuilds itself in real time, piece by piece until he’s steady.
“Whatever you need, and whenever you need it, I’ll give it to you, okay?” he says. “Anything. Just please don’t make me leave. You don’t have to love me back, and you don’t have to pretend. I won’t ask that of you.”
I reach for him, desperate to pull him back—to scream that of course I love him, and that we’ll figure this out together, then wrap him in my arms and shield him from any more pain.
But this time I’m the source of that pain, and despite the years I spent wishing I could break his heart just like he broke mine, the reality is not what the fantasy pretended it might be.
There’s no righteous vindication.
No balancing of the scales or righting the wrongs of our past.
There’s no pleasure in the pain I’ve caused him, no satisfaction in watching him offer himself up like a sacrifice.
There’s only guilt like a knife in my gut.
Someone calls my name from down the hall. Before I can force my lips to move, Xeni twists the knob and flees, escaping the danger.
Escaping me.
Ego approaches the open door timidly, and her eyes widen at my state. I swipe a hand over my face, frantically searching for my shirt as she stands there, mouth open.
“What?” I snap, voice fragile.
Her lips purse in sympathy. “Everyone’s in the conference room waiting.”
“Yeah, okay,” I mutter as I scrub at my eyes. “Give me a minute.”
“Sure thing, boss,” she says before hesitating. “Is there anything I can do?”
“I’m not even sure there’s anything I can do,” I admit.
She shuffles between her feet. Ego is not one for discussions of feelings, so I wave her on without meeting her eyes.
“Go on. I’ll be there shortly.”
She sighs and walks away. I take a few minutes to compose myself before stepping into the hall, wondering where Xeni ran and fighting every urge to chase him.