Page 48 of Demon Hunter

“Everything looks great,” I say hastily. Blood spatter would ruin my new, very expensive furniture. “Thank you for your help. So… we’re all agreed that Matt can come back to the compound in another week to start ‘reconditioning’?”

We talked about it yesterday. Matt and Ian want him back in San Diego, where they have more resources—aka fighters—if we need them. Another week will allow time for any “bruises” to have faded, and Matt swears he can pretend to be out of condition and stay on leave while he “rebuilds his fitness.” I’ll go with him because I’m not ready to let him out of my sight. Plus, we’ll need to work out what our long-term living arrangements will be, anyway. It’s hard enough that his job needs him to travel so much without us also being based at opposite ends of the state.

“That’s the best plan. I miss my bestie.” Ian grabs Matt in a headlock, and Matt jabs him in the gut. Brotherly love is a beautiful thing.

Marc clearly disagrees, because he announces, “We’re leaving in ten seconds, Ian. Say goodbye.” Then he turns to me and lowers his voice to a whisper, though with the way Matt and Ian are yelling, I don’t think it would have mattered. “I’ve warded the apartment. Nobody with ill intent can get in.”

I had no idea how stressed I still was about that until it all fell away. “I—” The word gets caught in my throat, and I clear it. “Thank you. I’m sorry if I was?—”

“You weren’t. Humans are fragile.” His gaze flickers to Ian. “I understand, Dylan.”

“Thank you,” I repeat. “I didn’t even know that was something you could do.”

He shrugs, the momentary vulnerability falling away. “It’s not widely known among humans.”

In other words, keep my mouth shut about it. “Got it. Well, I’m grateful. For this and for Matt’s life. You’re always welcome in my home.”

Ian and Matt go quiet just in time to hear that last part, and Matt groans. “Nooooo. What the hell did you have to go and say that for?”

“On that note…” Marc smirks, and then he and Ian are gone.

Matt blinks, turning in a full circle like a puppy. “I hate when he does that.”

“You’ll survive. So…” I stroll over to my new couch, sit, and pat the seat beside me. “How do you feel about breaking in the new furniture?”

It takes him a second to get it, and then he whips his shirt off and dives toward me.

But at the last second, he hesitates, twisting to land almost a foot away, then immediately scrambles to his feet. I blink. What…?

“Lube!” he shouts. “We need lube. Be right back.”

I stare after him, mouth agape. That was weird. I mean, yeah, we need lube, but that was still weird.

“Matty?”

He reappears from the bedroom, lube held aloft, his smile tentative. “Got it. Maybe, uh, you could ride me,” he suggests, coming back to the couch and hovering awkwardly.

I’m not sure what’s going through his head, but I don’t have a problem with that. “Sure.” I stand and pull my shirt over my head, then open my pants… while he watches. “I don’t mind giving you a strip show, but for this to work, you need to be wearing less clothes,” I tease.

He fumbles the lube, then tosses it on the couch. “Yeah. Of course.” It takes him longer to strip off than usual—so long that I’m naked and wondering why he’s going so slow.

“Everything okay, babe? We don’t have to do this now, you know.”

Glancing up as he unbuttons his jeans at a snail’s pace, he says, “I’m fine, and yeah, we do. It’s beendays,and I need you. You… um, you wanna start prepping?”

Prepping?He wants me to prep myself? But… he always wants to prep me. It’s a thing, ever since the first time…

I paste on a smile and reach for the lube. “Good plan.” This has to be part of his PTSD from the attack. He’s been acting a little off lately, and I need to give him space to work through it. If that means he wants me to prep myself for the first time in our relationship, I can do that. It’s not like it’s a hardship.

At the last second, I toss my T-shirt on the seat of the brand-new couch to protect the upholstery, then half recline against theback and the armrest, knees bent, legs open, giving him a show as I tease myself with my lube-slicked fingers.

He swallows hard, briefs still on, his cock forming a rock-solid tent. Mine, which only needs thoughts of Matt to be ready for action, stiffens the rest of the way at the sight of his mostly naked self.

“Someone offered me a ride,” I remind him breathlessly. I’ve never needed much prep—good muscle control from years of training—and I’mmorethan ready for him now. I need us to reconnect in this way now that I know my apartment is safe for him.

His underwear comes off much faster than the rest of his clothes, and then he sprawls onto the couch, swears, gets up to grab his shirt, and throws it onto the cushion like I did. Even as revved up as I am, I can’t help smiling at his consideration. Sure, this couch is going to see alotof our jizz over the coming years, but staining it on the first day is probably not a good thing.

When he’s lying back, shoulders propped against the armrest, cock standing at attention, I slide my fingers out of my ass and crawl toward him. It takes only a tiny bit of maneuvering for me to get into position, straddling his thighs, and I gaze down at his torso in all its glory before me.

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