Page 44 of Paris and the Reaper

He ripped himself out of Paris’s arms and staggered back a step, breaths heavy, climax a hair trigger from exploding. Paris’s devilish grin as he lounged back against the wall wasn’t helping. Neither was his hand trailing a path down his rosy red torso and into his pants, stroking his erection. With his other hand, he unbuttoned and lowered the zipper, and with no underwear on, his pants fell open to reveal his erect cock, glistening with precome.

Mac licked his lips and stumbled back a few more steps, into the corner of the table. He spread his legs as he rested back on the edge, and fuck, if his hand didn’t find its way to his own cock, gliding up and down the length over the material. “Fuck, Paris, what are you doing to me?”

Paris shoved off the wall, letting his pants fall the rest of the way to floor as he sauntered toward him in nothing but a shredded shirt and suit jacket, stopping only when he was between Mac’s legs, lips on his again. “Loving you.” And then he was gone the next instant, before Mac could wrap his arms and legs around him, before he could show Paris how fast and hard he was falling in love with him too. As if reading his mind, Paris braced one hand on the tabletop and flipped up the tails of his shirt and coat with the other, his bare ass canted out and up. “Show me.”

Mac clasped his balls and groaned. All that pale skin on display. That perfect ass that had been barely concealed in sweats the past two weeks, that as their bond had strengthened, had awakened Mac’s body in ways it hadn’t known for decades, waiting for him.

“Get inside me, Mac. Where you belong.”

He pushed off the table and let his own pants fall. “What do I need to do? To get you ready?”

“Nothing,” Paris said with a wink. “I planned ahead.”

Mac cocked a brow, much to Paris’s amusement, his infectious laughter filling the condo, then turning into a shivering groan as Mac skated his fingertips over the curve of his bare hip, lifting goose bumps as Mac circled behind him.

And froze.

“Fuck.” The purple flared end of a plug was nestled between Paris’s cheeks. The only reason Mac knew what the toy was, despite his very limited experience, was because Icarus had a habit of leaving his assortment just sitting out in the villa rooms he shared with Adam.

“You okay back there?” Paris teased.

Mac jerked his gaze up, meeting the brown one staring back at him, smoldering but also dancing with more than a little pride and mirth. The combination was as good as any dare, and while Mac usually stayed away from those, he had no intention of staying away from Paris tonight.

Stepping close, he left one hand splayed on Paris’s ass while he clasped the end of the toy with the other. But as he started to pull it out, Paris shuddered and lost the tension in his arms, sinking to his elbows with a moan. Wanting more of that reaction, Mac wriggled the toy, and Paris hung his head, keening. “You like this don’t you?” Same as he’d liked it the other night when Mac had stuffed him full of his fingers and made him come. He circled a fingertip around the neck of the toy, teasing Paris’s rim, and Paris tried to curl his fingers into the wooden tabletop. Mac did it again, loving the way Paris’s body quaked in response. “What would happen if this was my tongue instead of my finger?”

Paris shoved an arm between his body and the table, grabbing his balls as Mac had had to do earlier. When he glaredback at him, his pupils were blown wide, nothing left but lust. “We can play later,” he gritted out. “Please, Mac, just get inside me. I don’t want to wait.”

Neither did Mac; twenty-four hours was more than enough.

He shuttled his hand down his own stiff cock, spreading precome and coating his fingers, making it easier to remove the toy while still leaving a part of himself inside Paris, fascinated as Paris’s hole seemed eager for more. Then losing all thought, giving himself over to sensation, as he lined up and plunged into Paris’s hot and ready body.

Paris slapped the table. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Even better when Mac clasped his hips and hauled Paris closer, using his grip to steady them both as he began to pound into him, over and over, his grunts twining with Paris’s pleas for more, even as his arms gave the rest of the way out and he flattened himself on the table, surrendering completely to Mac.

It was the sexiest thing Mac had ever seen. Paris splayed out in that perfect suit jacket that hugged his arms and shoulders, that accentuated his tapered back, that was flipped up so Mac could witness Paris’s ass greedily taking his cock.

But Mac was greedy too, for all the things he’d never had. More pleasure, more passion, and more Paris. Bending over Paris’s back, he slid his arms under his front and lifted his torso off the table, enough so he could capture Paris’s lips, enough so that he sank impossibly deeper inside him, enough to taste the scream on Paris’s lips as he came.

Enough to whisper “I’m loving you too” as he followed Paris over the edge.

TWENTY-FIVE

Mac stoodin front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of Paris’s bedroom, watching as the waves crested under the moonlight, listening as they broke against the sheer cliffs below. He’d been born and raised in Talahalusi; his family lived in the trees and cultivated the land. He’d spent his fair share of time in YB, but Crow Mountain with its tangled limbs and knotty roots, its trailing vines and blooming meadows was home. That said, he couldn’t deny the swell of the waves, the thunder as they crashed to shore was peaceful and centering in its own way.

The bathroom light behind him flickered off, plunging the room and condo back into moonlight.

Paris’s footsteps approached, then his heat wrapped around him, skin to skin, his arms circling Mac’s waist as he slid in under his arm and nestled against his side, his soft cock pressed against Mac’s hip. Desire tempted, but after the fast and furious release in the kitchen, then a much slower, languid one in bed, the sated want he felt for Paris was more like a warm blanket on a cold morning, a comfort. Like the ocean was to Paris. “I understand now why you keep painting it,” Mac said. “Why you need it. This view is something else.”

“It was the only good thing about living here.” He nuzzled his pec and held him tighter. “When this is over, I don’t know if I can stay in Talahalusi with you.”

Mac’s heart crashed like the waves below, but he couldn’t say he was surprised. Someone so full of life, so bright was bound to come to his senses eventually. Of course Paris wouldn’t want to be tied to him, to the duty that came with him. “I understand.”

Paris’s answering chuckle was a surprise, as were his words. “I don’t think you do.” Circling the rest of the way in front of him, Paris pushed him up against the nearest casement and cupped his cheek. “I just meant the lake isn’t the same as the ocean. We may need a place near the coast too. Maybe the cabin, so long as I can drive out to the beach whenever I want.”

Mac angled his face to kiss his palm. “We make it out of this...” Alive, together, in one piece. “I’ll take you there myself. Every day.”

Paris stretched up to brush their lips together, more of that soft comfort Mac had realized he liked, that Paris gave so effortlessly. He settled against his chest, fingers playing with the smattering of hair there. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

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