Chapter 6 #4
But he was not. He was just a man like any other. Stubborn and scrappy and maybe a little clever on a good day. A barnacle clinging to the marble skin of a sunken god.
Rowan would just keep getting hurt. Keep adding to his catalog of scars till he was more broken than whole. But Yves would remain the same. Unaged. Untouched by the violence they surrounded themselves with. Pristine and beautiful and perfect.
As if sensing his melancholy thoughts, Yves’s fingers tightened against Rowan’s scarred flesh.
“I love you, Rowan.” His voice was deep and serious, only slightly tinged with an underlying current of lust. “I would protect you from all that seeks to harm you. Even from myself.”
“Do you seek to harm me?” Rowan asked breathlessly.
Yves’s thumb brushed lightly along the white-blond lashes that framed Rowan’s jade eye.
“My love harms you. Your association with me puts you in danger.”
Rowan rolled his hips involuntarily, his body seeking pleasure even as his mind drowned in sickly sweet melancholy.
“No more than I put myself in.” His hips rolled again, Yves’s cock rubbing at his prostate and dropping a heady veil of pleasure over his thoughts.
He bent to kiss Yves hungrily, and when the kiss broke, he said, “If your lives are infinite, it is me who will hurt you. Eventually I will die and leave you.”
The ghost of future pain flickered across Yves’s face, and Rowan regretted his words immediately. Rowan kissed him again, his hips finding a steady rhythm now as he rode Yves. Was it strange to speak of death while their bodies were so viscerally, vitally alive?
“Despite all that, we won’t let each other go,” Rowan whispered, one palm pressing to the old bullet wound beneath Yves’s shirt. “So show me that I belong to you, even beyond death.”
The words seemed to snap Yves from his mood, all at once transforming sorrow to lust. He dragged Rowan back into a crushing kiss, his hips bucking up to shatter the fate looming between them.
Bliss coiled through Rowan’s body as he matched Yves’s movements.
Their bodies knew each other. Fit together, and danced to the melody of moans that spilled from their lips.
Though often rough in the heat of passion, tonight they moved in sensual harmony as they drank in the fleeting rapture of each other.
Rowan could barely catch his breath, his lips bruised with kissing. Yves’s hands stayed on either side of his face, catching his own snatches of breath as he drowned himself against Rowan’s mouth.
One of the tentacles, moist with its own juices, wrapped around Rowan’s manhood beneath the skirt and began pumping him, suckers puckering the taut skin like a dozen tiny mouths.
It was strange how amazing it felt, a unique sensation that only Yves could provide.
Warm tingles spread out from the center of Rowan’s chest, mixing with hot euphoria.
“Yves,” he moaned, reaching up to grasp Yves’s hand where it still rested against his cheek.
Yves’s head was pressed hard against the velvet back of the chair, tendrils of black hair stuck to his sweat-slick neck.
As beautiful and perfect and put together as Yves usually was, Rowan loved these rare times he could see Yves come undone.
He sometimes wished he could wreck Yves the way Yves wrecked him, but this was more than enough.
Seeing his depthless eyes hazed with love and lust in equal measure. Rowan would never let him go.
Yves’s hips stuttered, his powerful legs driving his length up into Rowan with reckless abandon. A man lost to pleasure. Had his death affected him this much? Where was his usual control? His dominance?
“Fuck, Rowan. I’m…” Yves dragged Rowan into a hard, sloppy kiss, his breath ragged.
He managed a few more hard thrusts before overwhelming euphoria pulled them under.
Yves’s cock throbbed deep in Rowan’s core, and the tentacles constricted all at once, spasming with his climax, squeezing the supple flesh of Rowan’s thighs and around his cock as the suckers slurped up Rowan’s own streams of cum.
Rowan collapsed against Yves’s chest, harsh breaths heaving from their lungs.
Yves’s hand moved to cup the back of Rowan’s head, his other arm encircling his back.
The tentacles loosened, and Rowan knew his thighs would be banded with puckered bruises by morning.
The knowledge that the marks of this moment would be imprinted on his flesh for days to come sent a shivering aftershock through his exhausted body.
His tongue flicked out, lips pressed to Yves’s throat, tasting the salt from his skin.
“I love you,” Rowan whispered. Yves’s pulse fluttered against his lips at the words, and Rowan couldn’t help but smile. Yves stroked Rowan’s hair.
“I love you too,” he murmured. “I promise to be more careful, if you do.”
Rowan chuckled. “I don’t think either of us can keep that promise.”
Yves’s arms tightened protectively around him. “I won’t hold you to it. As long as you always come back to me.”
“Deal.”