Page 71 of How to Bare Your Neck and Save a Wreck
Maul checked his phone, huffing as though only half-satisfied with the wealth of information Andres—and others—had risked so much for. He didn’t bother with a farewell. Nothing slammedon his way out, only the subtle click of the door opening and closing.
Andres had to creep around the corner to check that he was truly gone. He slid the lock into place again. For all the good it would do them.
He leaned against the wall when he returned, breathing in and out. It felt as if his body had forgotten how. He ran his hands through his hair, finally, holding them atop his head as his chest heaved. “Fuck.” But he hadn’t taken the worst of it—he hadn’t been the weakest or had the most to lose. His attention went to Shane, and his own worries didn’t seem to matter as much. “Are you okay?”
Shane dropped onto the ottoman. He crossed his ankles, wrapping his arms around his stomach. For a moment it looked like he was going to curl up—to curl himself right out of existence—but his gaze met with Andres’s and he nodded slowly. “I think so, now that he’s gone.”
“I’m so sorry—”
“There were nice parts of that, you know,” Shane cut him off, gentle but determined. “Ifhehadn’t been here…” He shifted, loosening a little. His robe fell off one shoulder again.
“I wish he hadn’t been. The way he looked at you—threatened you?” Andres growled. “I should have done more than just stand up to him. If I could have done more…”
“You did plenty. You made me feel safe, so thank you,” he said, as though Andres had done a damn thing other than order him around and force him to bleed.
It soothed him still, let the adrenaline slip away. He tucked his hair behind his ears and let his fingers drop to his sides. Theyweresafe. Safe, and together. “I don’t know what you have to thank me for.Youcarried the performance. You were magnificent.”
“Only because I have someone worth being magnificent for.” Shane unfolded more at that, leaning back on his elbows. His robe shifted a little farther off one shoulder.
Andres’s gaze tracked over the bared skin, and—god, he was hungry still. He could taste the last traces of Shane’s blood in his mouth, that complexity of umami with a burnt edge and a hint of sweetness, and with the tension broken, the fear over, he could envision every sweet sigh and eager tremble of Shane’s submission anew. Just the thought made him feel stable again. “Wecouldkeep on what we were doing; no Maul, just us.” He added, quickly, “If you’re up for it. I don’t want to push you into anything you aren’t ready for.”
The little smirk to Shane’s lips made his heart swell. “Should I change out of your outfit first, or?”
“It’s yours now.” It had always been Shane’s, if Andres was honest with himself. “You look absolutely incredible in it.”
“I think I’ll look just as fine out of it, too.” As though his words weren’t enough to ruin Andres, Shane leaned a little further back, and slowly, purposefully, he dragged one foot up the side of his other ankle, along his calf, and under his knee, holding Andres’s gaze as the fabric that had covered his legs rose up, piling higher and higher before tumbling in a pile around the base of his thighs. From the wisp of tawny curls that peeked out, he’d taken Andres’s instructions to de-clotheveryseriously. “I hear if I give myself to my master, that he’ll take care of me.”
Never in his life could Andres recall having gone so hard, so fast.
“Will this be a level of activity I need to prep for?” Somehow Shane made glucose and insulin levels sound sexy.
“Don’t worry, my pet. You’re not going to be allowed to do anything but moan.”
Andres drew himself off the wall, the lightness in his head stabilizing with his nerves. He approached Shane like apredator, fangs out, showing off his desire in the way he raked over Shane with his eyes. He propped one knee on the ottoman, then the other, placing Shane between his legs as he leaned forward.
“You’re mine; my little swan.” He brushed a few locks of Shane’s hair back and tipped his chin up, closing in on him. “I’ll do what I will with you.” Lips brushing Shane’s cheek and fingers wrapped around his neck, Andres whispered, “You will deny me nothing.”
Shane’s lashes fluttered, his muscles loose enough to be conformed to Andres’s pleasure, awaiting him in the way Andres had learned to recognize over the weeks. He knew Shane was ready for this—knew, too, if he wasn’t, that his partner had the words to stop it and the trust that they could always reroute. It came as no surprise when Shane confirmed, “Nothing.”
As his mouth opened, Andres kissed him.
They’d kissed in so many soft ways since Shane had accepted him as Andres, easy and tender and perfectly wonderful, but this time Andres took Shane’s mouth like he’d done during the first deep kiss that night on Shane’s couch, like he truly owned Shane, pressing against his tongue, tugging at his lips, bloodying him with venom-filled nips until each ravishment was a battle between his feeding and the healing saliva he was rendering into Shane’s mouth. He wanted Shane to taste him. To drown in him. To know exactly who he belonged to.
Shane moaned and trembled, giving himself over like he’d never had another purpose in life. His whole body went weak for Andres, except the knee he settled against the front of Andres’s pants, not pressing, but offering. Andres obliged, grinding into Shane’s shin as hard as he could without unseating his little swan, relishing in the ungodly satisfaction it dragged out of his cock despite the layer of fabric between them.
The fact that it was Shane’s shin and not a more sensual position was a thrill all its own, ripe with the knowledge that he could give to Shane by denying him, just as he was about to give to him directly, tenfold.
Andres slipped his arms around Shane, lifting him up without breaking the kiss. Shane made a sound of surprised delight, melting against him as Andres carried him to the stairs. He left a trail of pink nips along Shane’s jaw and he didn’t have to ask for his little swan’s neck this time, Shane giving it the moment his mouth made contact. He sipped from Shane in short drags, one for each step, careful not to overwhelm him.
He flicked on the switch for the fairy lights that roped the room’s ceiling corners and laid Shane in the middle of the bed, his little swan’s head amidst the arrangement of fancy red and rose gold pillows. Shane smiled. He lounged immediately, his arms draping over his head and his foot rubbing once more up his legs. For every time Andres had imagined this, the reality was even better: the red of Shane’s well-kissed mouth, the blood-marks of Andres’s lips on his skin, no reaching hands to accidently trigger Andres’s panic, only easy supplication, the strands of Andres’s necklace wrapped around his neck—that, he decided, was staying.
Everything else, though…
“You think you can wear something this lovely and get away with it?” Andres growled, fiddling with the lower edge of Shane’s robe—a lower edge that was not hanging particularly low at the moment.
Shane basked in the question like a cat in the sun. “I was only trying to please you, master.”
“You will certainly please me.” Andres slipped out of his jeans, leaving his underwear—floral patterned in maroons and pinks—and his rose gold socks on, his silken button-up hanging loose around his hips as he climbed over his little swan.
