CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
DAVID
Rhys was on him in an instant, crushing his mouth in a hungry kiss. David sloughed off his dinner jacket without worrying about it getting creased on the floor, gripping Rhys tight by the lapels and pulling him in closer.
Rhys threaded his fingers through David’s hair and yanked, tipping David’s chin towards the ceiling and exposing his throat. David hissed in pleasured pain, taking a gasping breath.
He had missed so much about Rhys for so long, but his firm hand in the bedroom ranked high on the list.
“You started something in my office,” Rhys said, holding David in place. David’s pulse pounded in his neck. Slowly, Rhys tugged David to the floor. “Finish it.”
David smiled up at Rhys from his knees, delirious with desire and the delight of being kissed so soundly, handled so perfectly roughly.
“Yes, High Priest,” David said, less for his own gratification than for Rhys’s, because he knew it would get Rhys unspeakably hot. Sure enough, Rhys let out a groan, and David hadn’t even touched him yet.
David set about rectifying that promptly, unfastening Rhys’s belt and undoing his zipper. He pressed a hot, openmouthed kiss to Rhys’s length through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs, like an act of worship. Rhys made an agonized noise, blindly reaching for the nearest piece of furniture to steady himself.
“David,” he breathed.
“You know I like it when you say my name while I get you off,” David murmured, running his hands up Rhys’s thighs. “That much hasn’t changed.”
“I missed you,” Rhys said, voice stripped bare of any lie in the dark. They hadn’t bothered with lights, but David could see the contours of Rhys’s face in the moonlight streaming in through the bedroom window. Rhys looked absolutely rapt, like he was witnessing a miracle.
“I missed you too,” David said, squeezing Rhys’s thighs so he would know that David wasn’t just saying that, that he meant every word.
Then he took Rhys into his mouth.
Rhys’s hands found his hair again, guiding him with a touch that oscillated between gentle and merciless, depending on what David was doing with his mouth. David savored the weight on his tongue, the ache in his jaw, the needy desperation with which Rhys urged him forward.
This was their favorite game. Pushing each other until the other pushed back, until they ended up in a tangle of limbs and flurry of kisses on the bed.
Or the ground.
“David,” Rhys panted, sweat shining in his clavicle. His rhythm was becoming more erratic, more selfish. “David, David.”
David made a humming noise of approval, and sucked harder.
Rhys came almost embarrassingly quickly, gripping David’s hair so tight that euphoric tears stung David’s eyes. David swallowed down every drop, blissed out and happily used.
“Up,” Rhys said, with barely anytime to catch his breath. “Bed. Now.”
“Bossy,” David quipped, but he laughed when Rhys hustled him over to the bed and shoved him down on the coverlet. In an instant, Rhys was over him, pressing him down onto the bed with his hands bracketing David’s wrists.
Rhys took a deep, shaky breath, then leaned down to press his forehead against David’s.
“I should have never left you,” he said, voice thick with emotion. His grip was almost hard enough to bruise, like if he could only hold David tight enough, maybe he would never lose him again.
“Yes, you should have,” David said, in a rare moment of coital clarity. “We were both better for it. But you came back. And that’s what matters. Now kiss me, already.”
Rhys, for once, did as he was told. He kissed David until both their lips were swollen, until David was so hard in his dress pants, he thought he might die from the sweet agony. Then, just as David was about to beg to be touched, Rhys released David’s wrists and palmed him through his slacks. David bucked his hips into the touch, chasing heat and friction.
“More,” David demanded.
“I’ll take my time with you, and you’ll like it,” Rhys said simply, like their dynamic, David’s brattiness and his calm control, was the most natural thing in the world. And in some ways, it was.
“Easy, tiger; get me too wound up and all your party guests might hear me.”
“Don’t act like you don’t like the thought of that,” Rhys said, and tossed David’s belt aside. Then, suddenly, Rhys’s hand was wrapped around David’s bare, throbbing cock, and David really did have to bite back an embarrassingly loud moan.
“I never got you anything for your birthday,” Rhys said, a mischievous smile playing at his lips as he toyed with David, torturously slow.
“You saved my life,” David managed between breaths. “That’s gift enough.”
“Maybe. Or you could consider this the first present of many.”
Rhys gave David a few rough strokes, running his thumb along David’s slit, and then lowered his head and wrapped his lips around David. David squeezed his eyes shut, losing himself in the sensation of that perfect, cruel mouth pleasuring him with brutal efficiency. His hands, now free, roamed over any part of Rhys’s body he could touch, digging into shoulders and tugging on clothes.
“Rhys,” he said, gasping. “Jesus Christ.”
“Blasphemy,” Rhys chided, pausing in his efforts only long enough to fix David with a stern look and drag his tongue all the way up David’s length. “Watch your pretty mouth or I’ll find new and inventive ways to shut you up.”
David didn’t know if he wanted punishment or reward more, but he decided to behave himself, since what was currently happening felt too good, too electric, to interrupt.
In the end, David didn’t last much longer than Rhys. Years of pent-up lust broke open inside his chest, and within minutes, he spilled into Rhys’s hot, wet mouth. Rhys licked him clean and then clambered on top of him again, kissing David sweetly. The kiss tasted like champagne and salt and everything David had been denying himself for years.
“Come here,” David said, and yanked Rhys down next to him and into an embrace.
He wasn’t sure how long they laid there on the guest bed together, tangled up in the moonlight, but eventually, David came back down to Earth and became once again aware of the sounds of the party filtering in through the door.
“We should probably get back out there,” he murmured, winding one of Rhys’s curls around his fingers. The very sappy and very uncool thought crossed his mind that he would like to catalogue every single one of those curls, never to forget a single one.
“You’re probably right,” Rhys said into his chest. He lifted his head and looked David in the eye. “Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“No more close calls with death, please. At least not in this calendar year. I don’t think I can take it.”
“I promise,” David said with a chuckle. “Now come on. I’ll help you get dressed.”
A few minutes later, the two men emerged from the bedroom, hand in hand and only slightly rumpled. They found their way back onto the landing and peered down at the party, which was still in full swing below. Thankfully, it didn’t look like they had been missed.
David glanced down at the first floor and found Moira looking up at them both, her brown eyes sparkling. She broke away from the animated conversation she was having with Leda and made her way to the staircase.
Rhys extended his hand to his wife, and she ascended the stairs like a storybook princess, holding her dress daintily in her hands. The moment she was in reach, Rhys pulled her in close and pressed his forehead against her own. David laced his fingers through Moira’s, sending her so much gratitude.
They stood like that for a quiet, perfect moment, hands linked, until Moira asked, “Did you two sort things out?”
“I think we did,” David said, squeezing her fingertips and sending her a little jolt of excitement. She beamed at him.
“Very thoroughly, it seems,” she said, smoothing David’s disheveled hair. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Don’t tease,” Rhys said somberly, but there was a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“I guess our work isn’t done, huh?” Moira mused, leaning her hip against David like it was the most natural thing in the world, like they had been friends since childhood. “Looks like we’re all gonna have to spend some quality time together over the next few years to figure out how to put that demon in the ground for good. David, are you okay with extending our little deal for a while more? I think we’ve still got a lot to learn from each other. You’ve still got to teach me how to channel, and I’m not done with your spiritual self-defense education yet.”
“I’m more than okay with it. But you two should be getting back down there,” David said, still leery about monopolizing too much of Rhys’s time. Especially after their little escapade. “The people will be missing you. I see a couple of sharks circling down there, spreading gossip behind your back.”
“I have the rest of my career to squash dissenters,” Rhys said.
“People might talk,” Moira murmured, surveying the ballroom with her keen magician’s eyes. “You’ll need a strong second in command at your side to survive, and support on the home front.”
“Luckily, I have both of you. And a few rumors won’t kill me. I want to enjoy tonight.”
“Then stay,” David said, and he could barely believe the words coming out of his mouth. A month ago, he would have refused to set foot in this house, much less invite his Society rival and his wife into it. But now he couldn’t imagine reclaiming the hallowed halls of the Beacon Hill house with anybody else. “Stay the night. With me. Here.”
Moira glanced at her husband, quirking an intrigued eyebrow.
Rhys shot David a little smirk that made his stomach flutter. “For once, I think I’ll take you up on your hospitality.”
“Great,” David blurted, face flushed.
Moira started tugging both men back towards the stairs, a spring in her step. “Come back downstairs. I want to dance with both of you.”
“At the same time?” Rhys asked with a little laugh. “I don’t think I know the steps for that.”
“We’ll figure out the steps as we go,” Moira declared, making her way down the stairs with their hands in hers.
David glanced over at Rhys, and the two men shared one of their unspoken exchanges as they delved back into the fray of the party.
Yes, the exchange said. I think we will.