Page 77 of Damian & Jun, Episodes 9-12
Damian groaned. “Oh, you’re evil, sir. And wolfling, you’re so paying for this later.”
Jun didn’t answer; his mouth was too full of cock. This was a fight he wasn’t going to lose.
Stifling heat held Jun’s limbs down. He twisted, struggling to get away. Flaming beams crashed down around him. He flailed.
“Got you. Caught you. Jun. Junseo!”
His eyes flew open. Damian was in the act of pulling the covers off both of them. They were in his bed. A light from Damian’s phone illuminated the room. He dragged clean air into his lungs. The taste of smoke was still in his mouth, coating his throat, filling his nose.
“It was burning. The resort. It was burning, again.”
Damian nodded.
Jun fumbled to a seated position on the soft mattress. They fell into the center together. “Sorry to wake you.”
Damian wiped sweat off his head. “You didn’t. I was awake.”
“Why?”
His alpha grimaced. “Howser. He shot you. And I couldn’t stop him. I was bleeding out, and you were…” Damian choked up.
Jun fell over, reaching for Damian. He had to hold him, to keep his DaSu safe even from the inside of his head. “I’m alive. I’m here.”
“People have to damn well stop trying to kill you.”
“They’re not, really. Not so much.”
Damian growled, holding Jun tighter.
“I’m alive.”
“Every person, every last person in The Residency, wolfling, has been in a hospital in the last three and a half months. All of you with your eyes closed, all of you lying too still: you, Richard, Collin, Émeric, all of you.” Damian was outright shaking, his voice cracking.
He pulled Damian tighter against him. Had it been so recent? A little bit of math confirmed it. He hugged Damian even more, rocking them both for comfort. “I’m alive. I promise, I’m alive.”
Damian pressed his nose against Jun’s neck, breathing him in, their combined nightmare sweat mixing where their skin touched.
Monday morning came slowly, neither Jun nor Damian able to sleep for long again. In the early-morning light, Damian nudged Jun out of bed. Jun shoved his feet into thick house slippers, and Damian pulled on socks. They both wrapped themselves in warm robes. Jun followed Damian into the kitchen. Mutely, Damian made coffee. Jun found coffee mugs, setting out five.
Damian shook his head and rolled his eyes when Jun passed him the dog-head mug, but he stroked it fondly with the side of his thumb as he waited for the French press to steep.
Jun tugged down the collar of Damian’s robe to check his back. It wasn’t warm anymore. The welts were less than half the size they had been. He pressed a kiss to one bruise.
“I’m proud of them,” Damian murmured. “You don’t have to worry.”
Jun paused in his movements, listening.
“Richard and I don’t play like this often. It’s not play. Pain, this level of pain, is always serious between us. He trusts me, and I trust him. It’s always a journey.”
“Where did this journey go?”
Damian turned, his back against the counter, and cradled Jun against his belly, their robes parting to connect them skin to skin. He stroked Jun’s chest, eyes on his fingers moving over Jun. “Sometimes you don’t realize that what you’re holding on to is what you need to let go so you can be where you want to be.”
“Where’s that?” Jun looked up at Damian through his lashes, biting his lip. Wherever Damian wanted to be, he just prayed to all the gods that might exist that there would be room for him.
“Here.” Damian pressed Jun closer. “Right here. With you.”
Cold fear melted from Jun’s heart as he pressed kisses along Damian’s jaw.
