Page 85 of Mystique of the Fallen
Grant bent his knees, and Roman lowered himself to his mate’s hardened body. Their cocks brushed, and they both groaned in appreciation for the way that contact sent waves of delicious passion thundering through them. Roman dipped his tongue between Grant’s lips as his other half sank his hands into Roman’s hair.
It took a little effort, but Roman wanted to hold Grant close as they made love. He shoved his arms beneath Grant and finally gave in to the growing urge inside him to find some fucking friction for his poor cock. Roman rocked against Grant without restraint, and Grant groaned happily.
They’d been down this road before, and it was a glorious one. It took little effort now to find a rhythm that suited them. Within seconds, they were racing together toward a destination they craved. Grant’s hold on Roman’s tresses tightened, and Roman’s balls grew heavier with anticipation.
He dug his knees a little farther into the mattress to deepen his thrusts and thanked Fate that they had enough pre-come between the two of them to lubricate their almost-frenzied movements. There was no sound but their heavy breathing, but it was music to Roman’s ears.
Electricity surged along his nerve-endings, and Roman’s control was in tatters. Grant was a fervent dream beneath him, and the flicks of his tongue were driving Roman out of his mind. Roman’s muscles tightened, and he sucked in a deep breath.
Grant tore his mouth free and called out Roman’s name as he tensed. Delighted that Roman had survived long enough to allow Grant to find his orgasm, he let himself go fully. His seed spurted between them, and he shuddered with the force of his climax.
“Gonna need a lot of popcorn to recover from that,” Grant mumbled breathlessly.
Roman chuckled and held Grant tenderly as he peppered his face with kisses. Neither of them would forget the incredible night when they’d agreed to bind their souls for eternity.
∞∞∞
Grant sailed through the door of Redmilla’s and greeted the owner. As Roman chatted with Redmilla, Grant’s gaze landed on the thin band shimmering from silver to black in the low light of the bar. Two weeks had passed since Roman had treated them to a dinner cruise complete with gorgeous merpeople, but Grant was still awed by it all.
Roman handed Grant a beer, and they weaved through the crowd to a table in the back where two sentinels and a pair of fallen knights awaited them.
“Where are Drystan and Conley?” Albrecht asked, his smoky voice easily cutting through the din of conversations flowing around them.
“At some fancy thing for Council leaders,” Arvandus told his mate and kissed his cheek despite the cloak covering his face.
“Which is why I made sure I dragged Roman here before I stripped his clothes off,” Grant told their friends.
“Are you finally asking us to help you plan your matebond ceremony?” Samson asked.
“Plan it?” Grant asked, turning to Roman, who shrugged. “We’re doing it at D’Vaire. You said they’d do everything.”
“Why are you two so bad at this?” Arvandus asked. “I thought you’d already be mated by now. Who takes two weeks to put together a ceremony?”
“Again, what the hell do I have to put together?” Grant demanded.
“Grant’s busy,” Roman said. “The parade takes a ton of planning, plus he has all his other normal work.”
“Yeah, and? I’m not waiting until after the fucking parade, Roman. That’s six weeks away. What the fuck?” Grant asked, annoyed at the man he loved. He had never agreed to postpone their ceremony, and that wasnotokay with him.
“You didn’t say anything, so I thought we were waiting,” Roman replied, his blue gaze wide with shock.
“They really are terrible at this,” Brynnius commented quietly.
“For Fate’s sake, pick a date,” Samson remarked. “We’ll fucking plan it.”
“We can do it,” Grant replied. He glanced at a still-stunned Roman. “Right? We can handle it, right?”
Roman lifted a hand to massage his forehead. “When do you want to do it? I’ll make sure everything is perfect.”
“I can help,” Grant insisted.
“You better let Grant help,” Arvandus said.
“They honestly have little to do, but they must pick a date,” Albrecht added.
“Two weeks,” Grant stated firmly, then kissed Roman’s cheek. “We didn’t even talk about it. I guess we do suck at this stuff.”
Roman’s smile was relieved, and he leaned close for a deeper brush of their lips and tongues. “Sorry, I assumed we’d plan it together at some point.”
