CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE #4
Jules makes a guttural noise of pure undoing.
‘I do, I do, I love it,’ he blurts out, fingers digging so hard in Lachlan’s back that they’ll break skin and bruise. ‘I love that you know me. It made me fall for you so hard! Fuck me now, please fuck me, put it in me. I need to feel you.’
Lachlan rolls the condom on before slicking himself up properly with lube.
He shifts Jules’ legs over his shoulders and folds him gently upward just long enough to wedge a pillow beneath his lower back before settling between his thighs again.
Jules keeps kissing him the entire time.
Mouth when he can reach it, skin when he can’t.
Growing impatient, he catches Lachlan’s fingers and drags them into his own mouth instead, sucking softly around them with a muffled little moan that nearly derails Lachlan all over again.
‘Ready?’ Jules nods fervently. Lachlan tsks. ‘Say yes, then.’
‘Yes,’ Jules says, biting his thumb.
‘That’s my boy,’ Lachlan praises, pressing himself inside for the first time, and despite how well Jules took his fingers, it’s shockingly tight and so fucking wet, so warm that he literally gasps, blinking fast, fuck, fuck.
He’s so ruined, he’s never gonna want anything else again, anyone. ‘Oh God, Jules. Fuck.’
He’s barely a quarter of the way in, can’t help but want to take it slow even though he knows he’s not the first. It’s so good he can’t catch a full breath. Lachlan tightens all over, tensed up with restraint.
‘This OK?’
‘More, I want more.’
‘Are you sure you—?’
Jules lightly slaps his face.
It’s not much more than a cheek clap, but oh God.
A new vortex of pleasure spins through his core. Lachlan makes a weird noise, half smothered groan, half pained grunt and Jules clenches around him so hard it almost makes his dick pop back out again, no choice but to push deeper and beg, ‘Slap me again.’
‘What?’
‘Please.’
Jules laughs, slaps his face, playful but less gentle. ‘Who’s fucked up now?’
‘It was always me, baby,’ Lachlan groans, mouth falling open as he bottoms out, slow but sure, it’s insane, oh fucking hell. It’s so good it aches, hurts, burrowing deep to brand his bones. ‘Oh my God.’
‘Fuck me,’ Jules begs, demands, moans in his ear, has no leverage to roll his hips in this position but he can clench at will and he’s doing it in pulses, Lachlan is so gone. ‘Fuck me, Bodyguard.’
‘Say my name.’
‘Fuck you.’
Lachlan smiles, pulls out and then pushes all the way back inside until they’re conjoined. ‘Brat.’ He starts to make a slow, crude rhythm of this imperfect penetration, would be so much better without the condom but he’s not fucking him bare for anything.
‘That’s it, oh my God, oh… make me yours, please!’
‘You are mine, Jules,’ Lachlan tells him, wishes that it sounded less like an apologetic threat, but he can’t help it. He’s fucking him, in and out, deeper each time, faster, no God could pull them apart, no legions of hell, no fathers. Nothing could stop this, and nothing ever will. ‘Mine.’
‘Make me feel it then!’ Jules cries, gripping tight.
Lachlan keeps the angle even though it burns his thighs to stay in this position, knows he’s nailing his prostate so good this way, doesn’t stop, does not let up an inch. He’s gonna make Jules come untouched, untouched, and it makes Lachlan feel like a fucking God.
‘Come for me, baby,’ he bids, watching Jules unravel, wants to burn the image into his memory.
The sounds, the smell of his sweat, oh God, he has to taste it, lifts Jules’ arm to bury his face there and lick it, revels in the squeak he gets from Jules, who grips Lachlan’s ass cheeks, fingers digging in cruelly.
‘You’re so gross,’ Jules complains, voice wrecked when he finally gets Lachlan’s mouth back on his. ‘I love it.’
‘You gonna come for me?’ Lachlan pants against his mouth, fucking him so hard it jolts his whole body. ‘I wanna feel it.’
‘Put… put your hand on my throat.’
Lachlan’s eyes roll back, pleasure surging in his core but he bites down hard otherwise he’ll come before Jules does. He reaches up, adjusting his weight where he bears it on his elbows and lightly grips his throat. The noise Jules makes threatens Lachlan’s remaining control. ‘That’s good?’
‘So good,’ Jules moans, seems dazed. ‘Make me come now, Bodyguard.’
Lachlan drops his head, slave to the rhythm as his body pushes harder than ever before. Who knew love was a better tool to fuck with than hate? Faster, deeper, harder, this boy’s inner thighs will be bruised tomorrow, and that rose will have a garden.
Lachlan rubs his thumb over the protruding Apple of Jules’ throat, exposed when his head tips back into the pillows.
Jules goes rigid with tension that mimics possession as he comes, mouth falling open in a silent scream and just the sight of that is enough to push Lachlan all the way over the edge.
He comes so hard his ears pop and colours burst behind his eyes, vicious delights ravaging him all over again as he comes so fucking hard it’s like he’s bleeding all that he is into Jules, who he would die to protect.
So.
Much.
More.
And then it ebbs, and they kiss.
They kiss for hours. Sticky, warm, hidden.
Lachlan strokes Jules’ hair.
He’s never felt anything like this.
Jules is wrapped around Lachlan like he might leave otherwise.
He’ll have to soon, but not yet.
Not yet.
‘Still love me tomorrow?’ Jules asks, eyes dipping, speech a little slurred.
Lachlan pretends to consider it. ‘Have to wait and see.’
Jules pouts. ‘See what?’
‘How big of a brat you are.’
The pout melts into a giggle. ‘You’re a dick.’
‘You’d know.’
‘I’m not tired yet. I’m awake. Need guarding. Have to stay.’
Lachlan kisses him. ‘Uh huh.’
‘Surprised you’re still awake though,’ Jules mutters and then grins, eyes closed. ‘Mr Five Seconds Flat.’
‘I feel like that’s gonna stick.’
‘Lucky for you, you like when I’m a bitch.’
‘I do,’ Lachlan says. ‘I really do.’
Jules sobers slightly.
He’s trying hard to stay awake.
‘You’re not gonna walk this back, right?’
‘I won’t walk it back.’
‘Because I know you,’ Jules goes on, hint of warning in his tone. ‘You regret things sometimes. You blame yourself. I know you, Lachlan. This was good. Only good, do you understand? Best night of my whole life. No bullshit guilt.’
‘Mine too. I won’t walk it back and I won’t regret it unless you do.’
‘Never. I love you, and I’m gonna keep you safe.’
‘Me?’
Jules sighs, arms slowly losing their strength. ‘Yeah, you, Bodyguard. I’m gonna get so strong from CQC and learn all this other stuff so I can save you.’
‘You don’t need to do that.’
‘That’s what love is, isn’t it? Saving each other?’
Lachlan accepts his definition because he has no other to offer.
‘OK, baby.’
‘Tell me you love me tomorrow?’
‘I will.’
‘We could…’ Jules stifles a yawn. ‘Make our… own… way.’
Lachlan strokes his hair, watching him fall asleep with bone deep adoration. ‘Little language of our own, yeah?’
Jules nods, hums. ‘You and me.’
‘You and me, sweetheart,’ Lachlan promises.
Jules falls asleep.
Lachlan stays until he can’t be spared a moment longer, and then he pulls away, tucks Jules in and kisses his hair.
In the shared bathroom, he showers, shaves and checks in with Danya.
‘Eight bells, Kestrel.’
Lachlan studies himself in the mirror.
Everything has changed inside, but it barely shows on the outside.
Transformed. Lachlan can’t tell yet where it leads, whether it will make things worse or better. He only knows the truth of what he feels.
Love has changed him.
Love has unmade him.
Love has levelled him up.
Lachlan smiles, and goes to work, new.