Chapter 27
Levi
Hayden Harlow on an ordinary night? Breathtaking. Hayden Harlow in the Helm of Hades while fucking me? Illegal. Possibly biblical. Definitely life altering.
Once, I’d joked that he should try it on when I’d found it gathering dust on his shelf, a relic from another life.
He’d only smirked then, changing the subject.
But seeing him now, naked, muscles flexing, gray eyes half hidden by the helm, is too much.
It’s holy and profane all at once. Most couples would call this role-play, but with Hayden it’s something else entirely.
He isn’t pretending. He’s remembering…reclaiming the part of himself he signed away.
I’m witnessing him step into a past life and fuck me like he’s taking back a world he lost.
Every thrust drives me against the headboard, his shadows tightening around my wrists, mirroring the way my hole tightens around him, answering every pulse of his body, because by now, they’ve learned our rhythm.
Another slides between my thighs, curling beneath my balls, teasing the rim of my ass as Hayden pounds it.
He’s moving behind me, every inch of him slick and glorious, the helm gleaming like captured starlight against his dark hair.
The etched metal glints each time he thrusts into me; his shadows curl around us like sentient worship, tasting every tremor of pleasure every time my breath breaks.
His breath is hot at the back of my neck; the cool edge of the helm brushes my hairline, and the contrast makes my whole body shudder.
“Fuck, baby,” he groans, buried deep where he belongs, hands dragging up my thighs. “This is exactly what I needed. This ass. My good boy.”
Each thrust is measured and personal. Claiming as my body is caught between the headboard and Hayden’s hips. His cock pounding like he’s trying to make sure I never forget this.
“You’re doing so fucking good,” he pants. “My good boy. Taking me so deep.”
My cock aches, leaking more and more with each of his thrusts, every motion dialing up something sharp and urgent in my chest. My whole body feels like it’s being rewired when he traces my mess with his fingers and tastes it.
This isn’t just fucking.
It’s raw, slow, and perfect, like he’s dragging the pleasure out on purpose just to hear what it does to me.
Hayden leans forward, chest pressed to my back, mouth brushing over the curve of my shoulder. He kisses me there, once, then again, slower this time.
His hands stay firm on my hips, fingers digging into my skin like he’s holding on for dear life. Every deep grind pushes me forward into the headboard, only for him to pull me back closer, like he can’t bear the thought of me not being flush against him in every possible way.
“You feel so fucking good,” he breathes against my neck, voice rough with awe. “All of you, baby.”
My knees tremble. My arms shake. I’ve never been touched like this. Fucked like this. Like I’m something to be worshipped and wrecked at the same time.
Then he flips us.
I’m suddenly on my back, breathless and boneless, the bedding kicked off in a tangled heap. His helm glints between us for half a heartbeat before Hayden tears it off, tossing it somewhere without care.
And then he’s kissing me like he wants to drink me down, mouth hot and possessive, his tongue sliding against mine with an admiration that makes my chest ache. His hand finds my jaw, holding me there, devouring me like I’m oxygen.
He grabs my legs and wraps them around his hips in one smooth motion, leaning in until we are skin to skin, sweat slick and burning. This new angle makes my cock drag against his stomach with every breath, every shift of his hips, and it’s so much.
I gasp, head falling back, hands clawing at his shoulders.
“You’re gonna cum for me,” he whispers against my jaw. “I want you to. I need to feel you fall apart while I’m buried inside of you.”
He fucks me with slow, punishing control, each thrust hitting exactly where I need it. I reach down, wrapping one hand around my dripping cock and the other in the back of his hair, fisting it hard, pulling him back into our kiss.
It’s messy and desperate, our mouths never separating. He swallows my moans like they’re holy. I stroke myself in time with his thrusts, every drag of my palm sending sparks through my veins. I’m so fucking close it’s unbearable.
“That’s it, sweet thing,” he growls against my lips. “Give it to me.”
His words hit like electricity.
My body locks up and my cock pulses in my fist. I cry out into his mouth as I cum hard, jerking between us, body trembling as my orgasm crashes over me.
My hips stutter and my legs tighten around him but he doesn’t let up.
Hayden just keeps thrusting, dragging it out like he knows what my body needs.
“So good for me,” he pants, breath hot against my cheek. “So fucking perfect.”
I moan again, head spinning, riding the aftershocks…but I’m still aching.
“Hayden,” I whimper, voice pleading. “I need you to fill me up. I need you to breed me. Please…”
He shudders like he’s been snapped in half.
“Fuck, Levi,” he groans, and then he lets go.
He slams into me, something sharp and wild. I can feel it, his breath stuttering, his hands trembling against my shoulders.
And I want to ruin him.
“Please, baby, cum for me,” I whisper, coaxing his release out of him.
That hit a nerve, and he growls something low as he slams into me. Hard.
“Levi, fuck. I’m right there…” he gasps, body locking up as he thrusts once, twice more, then spills into me with a strangled moan, cock pulsing deep as he fills me up.
His shadows surge the way that they do, holding me down while he pours so deep inside of me it feels like I’ll never stop shaking.
I moan at the heat of it. The stretch of him.
The fullness. His forehead drops to mine, and I feel his whole body tremble above me as he rides it out, breathing my name like a prayer and a curse all at once.
Hayden plants kisses at my temple between ragged breaths, his cock still pulsing deep as his shadows coil tight around my legs and chest. I can feel it…the way he’s still twitching inside me. The way his cum spreads warm and thick.
And god, I love the way it feels.
The slow, heavy throb that settles low and deep. I feel owned. Marked. Wrecked in the best way, like I was made to carry this part of him. He’s still inside me, his body trembling, his breath catching against my neck. And all I can think, achingly and shamelessly, is: Don’t pull out.
Let me stay full. Of this. Of him. Of this moment…just a little longer.
Eventually, the shadows soften. They slip away like smoke, satisfied, curling back into the corners of the room as Hayden wraps his arms around me. Our breaths slow. Our bodies stay tangled. The sheets are warm, a rumpled mess beneath us.
I trace a slow path down his spine, fingers ghosting over the ridges of muscle, the curve of his shoulder. He shivers. Not from the cold or from fear.
From this.
From us.
For a man who’s spent lifetimes holding back, he’s shattered now.
And I love it. The weight of him against me.
The way he’s stopped trying to rebuild the walls right away.
I press a kiss to his temple. Then to his cheek.
Then lower, to the slope of his jaw, his neck.
He groans, tilting his head back, exposing more of himself, like he wants me to keep going.
“Levi,” he breathes, my name catching in his throat like a prayer.
I think I could spend eternity learning the way he says it.
· · ·
The crash jolts me awake.
For a second, I think about ignoring it.
Assuring myself it’s just Seby knocking something off the counter in his ongoing campaign for attention.
I burrow deeper into Hayden’s arms, willing the noise to be a tomorrow problem.
Probably just the apartment settling or some other benign, nonthreatening thing that will let me keep living in this perfect little bubble.
Hell, I’d even settle for one of those spirits Hayden is always prattling on about.
But then it happens again.
A rustling. A clatter. A muffled laugh.
Definitely not Seby.
Hayden is still dead asleep beside me, soft and warm, but his shadows aren’t. They flicker and twitch at the edges of the room, restless, like they sense something I don’t.
Shit.
Carefully, I slip out of bed, searching the room for something that could be used as a weapon. Hayden’s apartment is filled with little trinkets and knickknacks, which means my options are surprisingly plentiful, but none of them are exactly battle ready.
I need something. Anything,
My eyes land on the first thing I can grab. A coffee table book stacked neatly on his dresser. I pick it up, tilting its cover in the dim light. It’s called The World’s Most Beautiful Bridges.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
And of course this had to happen after the mind-blowing night we had.
Messy and consuming and good. The kind of good that rewrites you from the inside out.
We’d fallen asleep tangled together, his shadows cocooned around me like I belonged to them.
Woken up hours later just to reach for each other again.
By the time we finally collapsed, I’d been sure I’d never sleep so well in my life.
Which makes me want to curse at whoever…or whatever…is in Hayden’s kitchen. Because they’ve just ruined the best morning-after of my existence and now I’m armed with the least threatening object imaginable.
I creep toward the kitchen, heart pounding, ready to bludgeon someone with architectural knowledge. One corner, one ambush, and I’m ready to launch.
But then I freeze.
Because there, standing in the middle of Hayden’s kitchen, are two men. Massive, broad shouldered, and laughing. I don’t recognize them, but there’s something about them…about the sheer presence of them, the camaraderie…that feels oddly familiar.
Not that it matters, because I still have a job to do. I tighten my grip on my pathetic bridge book, raise it, and charge forward with all the conviction I can muster.
“HEY! GET THE FUCK OUT OR I SWEAR TO GOD I’LL—”
The two men whip around just as I lunge, completely prepared to go full gladiator on their asses with my hardcover about infrastructure. Instead of panicking at the half-naked man wielding an oversized travel guide, they just laugh…louder.
The taller one—golden haired, grinning, built like a damn statue—folds his massive arms. “Cute,” he says, nodding at my “weapon.” “What’s the plan, sunshine? Beat us senseless, then read us a bedtime story?”
The other, dark haired and tattooed, tilts his head, condescending but with something gentler in his pale eyes. His look tells me I’m hopelessly out of my depth. “No need for theatrics, we’re just here to see…” But his voice trails off.
Behind me: a shuffle, a groan, and then—
Hayden.
He appears in the doorway, wearing nothing but briefs and a scowl, rubbing a hand over his face. His hair is gloriously mussed, briefs slung low. If not for the intruders, I’d be thoroughly distracted.
“Zane. Porter.” His voice cuts through the quiet, any trace of sleep gone. “What are you doing here?”
The golden-haired one, Zane, grins wide and steps around me like I’m nothing more than a fly buzzing in his ear. He sweeps Hayden into a bear hug, lifting him clean off the ground with alarming enthusiasm.
“There’s my brother,” he booms, slapping Hayden hard on the back, so loud it echoes through the room. My spine tingles with the force of it.
Brother.
The pieces slam into place so fast I nearly drop my damn bridge book. I blink between them, my brain short-circuiting.
“Holy gods,” I breathe.
Three sets of eyes snap to me. Porter looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, Zane is grinning like he just won the lottery, and Hayden? He looks like someone just pulled the fire alarm on his quiet little life.
“Literally,” I croak, because apparently my coping mechanism for immortal break-ins is comedy.
Zane winks, clearly enjoying my spiral. “Glad you’re catching up, Red.”