44. Cato #3
The one with nothing to offer but himself, his heart, and his fumbling attempt at love.
My arms band around his middle, holding us together as I thrust up into him. “I love you,” I breathe against his lips, nails scratching down his back.
A muffled moan passes from his mouth to mine as he shudders and murmurs, “Harder.” I do it again, putting more pressure behind it, but Aryn growls and shakes his head. “I said harder.”
My nails dig in hard enough to leave marks, like I could tear his skin open and crawl inside. He gasps and falters, panting against my mouth. My fingers weave into his hair, twisting between the strands before I yank and use the grip to fuck him rougher.
Any worry about hurting him disappears at the sounds he makes.
He moans, loud and unrestrained, calling my name as he begs for more, for harder.
I scratch down his back and jerk on his hair, not holding anything back.
Wet slaps of skin fill the room, so much slick leaking from him that it pools on my groin.
It doesn’t take long before his body tenses and his cock jerks between us.
Warm, wet bursts of his release spread across our stomachs as he rides me through it.
He sits tall, the contractions of his body still pulsing around me as he chases more.
The muscles in his thighs tense as he fucks me faster and rougher.
His cock doesn’t soften, slapping against my stomach into the mess he already made, and his tendrils are extended like they’re desperate to link us together.
“Come on, kitten,” he begs, voice rough. “Mark me like I marked you. Fill me up so they can smell you on me.”
Sweat trickles down my temples. My fingertips dig into his hips and thighs as I thrust up into him, gripping so hard I wonder if he’ll have bruises tomorrow. The thought makes my rhythm falter as I teeter right on the edge.
“I want you covered in marks,” I pant, squeezing harder. “Want the world to see you belong to me.”
Aryn throws his head back with a low growl that rolls into a gasp as he comes again, and the first squeeze of his body around me sends me over the edge right behind him.
I groan his name as I fill him up, unable to look away from the way the tendons in his neck strain and his abs twitch with the force of it.
We both work through our release, slowing before we finally still.
I stare up at him wrecked above me—sweaty hair, flushed cheeks, and hand-shaped bruises darkening his hips.
He pulls in a heavy breath as his tendrils soften, then collapses on top of me, uncaring about the mess coating my stomach.
His lips find mine with lazy, sated kisses before Aryn slides onto the furs and curls into my chest. I wrap my arms around him, holding him close as the fire crackles softly beside us.
His fingers trail lazily over my skin, skimming the bite on my neck before tracing down to the fresh mark on my thigh. “We both got a little carried away with that, didn’t we? If you aren’t careful, you’re going to be covered in these.”
A content sigh leaves me as I try to convince myself to get up and clean off before we crash right here on the floor. “That’s alright. These are the scars I chose.”
He props himself up on one hand, staring at me in that contemplative way he so often has. “Someone much older and wiser than me once said scars are a roadmap to what you’ve lived through. The ones you carry are nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I know,” I agree with a sad little smile.
He crawls over me, straddling my stomach as he leans in to press kisses along the pitted skin of my arm. “These tell me you’re loyal and brave,” he murmurs, moving higher to my neck. “And maybe a touch reckless.”
I trace the twin spots of raised skin on my shoulder. “And what do these scars you’re leaving say about me?”
He grins, licking across my collarbones before placing another kiss on the bite mark. “That you belong to me… and that you like to be fucked senseless.”
I breathe a laugh, and he smiles against my skin. “I can’t really argue with that, now can I?”
“I’m afraid not, kitten.” He leans down and kisses me so thoroughly my lips tingle. When he pulls back, I hook his neck and hold him there, nose to nose.
“I love you,” I whisper. “Even if I’m fumbling my way through it.”
He smiles, softer this time. “There’s no right or wrong way to love someone, Cato. Any way you love me is more than I could’ve asked for.”
I pull him down into one last kiss. “We need to clean up again.”
He drags a finger through the mess on my stomach—the mix of slick, cum, and sweat already drying in my happy trail. “It would be wise if we don’t want to be glued to the sheets.”
Aryn yelps as I sit up, but I wrap my arms around him and hold him steady in my lap. “Gods,” I groan, “we get to sleep in a bed. An actual bed.”
“After we bathe,” he agrees, kissing my forehead before climbing to his feet.
“Again,” I add.
He chuckles as he helps me up, then winds our fingers together as we head back to the bathroom and start the shower. “Again,” he agrees, tugging me under the water.