Page 161 of Threadbound

“Can—Can I help?”

Bran’s lips curled up in a smile. “You do,” he replied, his features relaxing into an expression of fondness.

Jamie felt the corner of his own mouth turn up. He couldn’t help it.

And when Bran kissed him, he couldn’t help kissing back, either, even though he had been so careful not to hurt Bran, essentially keeping his hands to himself.

Bran wasn’t having that any longer, the long fingers of one hand sliding into the hair on the back of Jamie’s skull, tightening, and pulling Jamie close so that he could drink him in like water. At first, Jamie kissed him back hungrily, a starving man who hadn’t had a meal in days. But then he pulled back.

“I don’t?—”

“You willna hurt me, Jamie Weaver,” Bran interrupted, knowing exactly what Jamie meant to say. “Not now, not ever.”

“But—”

“Butnothing,” Bran told him, tightening his grip in Jamie’s hair and pulling him back into a kiss. Yes, his ribs ached, and yes, his arm hurt, and yes, his whole body felt like it had be wrung out and hung to dry from the battlements of the keep. But it had been weeks since he’d had Jamie’s big, warm hands on his body, and he missed it desperately. A little physical pain wouldhurt him far less than if Jamie continued to treat him like he was made of spidersilk and eggshells.

Now he just had to convince Jamie of that.

He began by drawing one leg up the back of Jamie’s calf, using the dexterous talons on his feet to grip a fist around the loose fabric of Jamie’s plaid pajama bottoms and tug them downward. He felt Jamie’s lips curve in a smile against his own. So he did the same thing with his other foot.

That earned him a laugh that broke the kiss.

“You have too many opposable toes,” Jamie told him.

“You like my toes,” Bran pointed out, tugging hard enough that he exposed the soft skin of one hip. And that let him move first one foot, then the other so that he could grab the elastic waistband with those same toes, which made it much easier to pull Jamie’s bottoms all the way down to his knees.

Jamie sucked in a breath as the elastic caught on his semi-hard cock, then released, exposing his skin to the slightly chill air. Bran ran his toes up the now-bare skin of Jamie’s calves and thighs, drawing a shudder from the larger man’s frame.

“Bran.” His name crossed Jamie’s lips as half a warning, half a plea.

“Jamie,” he countered, using his legs to pull Jamie’s hips—and erection—against his own.

Jamie let out a soft groan, seemingly unable to help himself as he rubbed his rapidly stiffening cock against Bran’s. Bran used his one good hand to pull Jamie’s head back, letting him kiss down the side of Jamie’s strong throat.

Jamie had braced himself on straight arms, one on either side of Bran’s body. When Bran gestured with his fingers—still in Jamie’s hair—and vanished his own pajama bottoms, Jamie’s moan of desire at the feel of their naked bodies pressed together raised the hair and feathers on the back of Bran’s neck.

“Bran…” Jamie was breathless. “Are you sure?” He left unsaid that he didn’t want to hurt him.

“Aye,” Bran answered, warmth pooling low in his belly. “I’m sure.”

Jamie stopped holding back, and Bran’s eyes all but rolled back in his head as Jamie lowered himself enough to lavish attention on Bran’s jaw and throat with his tongue, one heavy thigh pushing up against Bran’s erection.

The heat of Jamie’s body chased away the slight chill that had been nearly constant since his poisoning, and which had gotten worse since the top of the wall. But Jamie ran warm—his body was a constant source of warmth as they slept or cuddled, and when—like now—Jamie ran his hands and tongue all over Bran’s body, he lit that same internal fire inside Bran.

And then Jamie was kissing and licking his way down Bran’s torso, one big hand only just barely skimming over the skin of Bran’s ribs, careful and gentle. Always careful and gentle—until Bran pushed him.

“Harder,” the fae begged. “I need tofeelyour hands.”

Jamie paused, and Bran could see the thoughts that flitted through his mind.I don’t want to hurt you.

Never, Bran thought back at him.

Jamie tightened his grip—slightly—on Bran’s hip, propping himself on his other elbow so that he could pull one nipple into his mouth. Bran gasped as electricity slithered through him from the tugging of Jamie’s lips.

“Jamie,” he gasped out.

Another tug, then Jamie looked up at him. “Yeah?”

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