Page 61 of Obliterated
I close the distance and crush my mouth to his.
I'm not careful. Not gentle. It’s teeth and heat, the taste of smoke and copper, the clash of something I can’t cage anymore. For a beat I’m half afraid—afraid of what I’ll be if I give in. Then another part of me, the one that’s been starving for anything that isn’t survival or fury, answers. He melts into it, opens for me like he’s been waiting. Tongues clash and slide and set my blood on fire.
A whimper escapes him, sharp and needy, and his arms slam around my neck, clinging like he’s drowning. I pull him in tighter; water slaps against our waists as I pin him to me, handstill at his throat, thumb pressing into the frantic beat beneath his skin.
Every gasp, every tiny sound he makes feeds something raw inside me—not just want, but a fierce, ridiculous protectiveness. I want to swallow him whole and keep him from whatever comes after tonight. I want to teach him how to harden and how to survive without losing the part that still feels. I want to fuck him senseless until the monster in me goes quiet.
I kiss him harder, deeper, until the difference between where he ends and I begin blurs. The tub rocks; the room rings with the wet sounds of mouths and breath and the soft, sharp edge of his moan when I tilt him and take him deeper. Starlight shivers across his skin, making him look like something stolen from a better world.
Kee.My Kee.
And for the first time in too long, I don’t want to kill, fight, or bleed. I just want this. The want claws at me, raw and brutal, but it’s not the same hunger that usually drives me. It’s sharper. Cleaner. Like every piece of chaos in me is screaming for him alone.
His mouth is still on mine when the words scrape out, low, ragged. “Do you want this?”
Kieran nods, fast, almost frantic, lips brushing mine with every breath. Another whimper breaks loose when I don’t move right away, like his answer isn’t obvious enough already. His arms tighten around my neck, pulling me down to him like he’ll split in half if I let go.
That’s all I need. My free hand slips lower, under the water, over the ridges of his stomach, down to where he’s already straining against me. Hard. Solid. Alive. The jolt that runs through him when I wrap my fingers around him is pure fucking fire.
“Fuck…” he chokes, voice breaking against my tongue.
“Yeah.” My grip on his throat tightens just enough to keep him anchored, to keep him here. My mouth drags across his, tongue deep, claiming, until he’s panting against me, until every sound he makes sinks under my skin and stays there.
I don’t know how to do gentle. Never have. But fuck me, I want to give him something better than the monster I usually am. He deserves that, and yet here I am, hand around his throat, fist stroking him under the water roughly.
Mine, the hold I have on him demands.
Mine, those demons inside of me scream.
Yours, he answers in the way he unravels beneath me, even though the guilt, the anguish still swirls in those oceans.
“You need to let go, Kee,” I growl against his lips. “Let go of the guilt. There shouldn’t be any. That fucker was dead before you touched him. I’d have finished him myself.”
A broken sound rips out of him, half sob, half moan, and he clings tighter, nails digging into my shoulders like he’s holding on for his life. His body trembles against mine, caught between breaking apart and burning up. And godsdamn it, I feel it too. His fear, his fire, all of it twisting with mine until I can’t tell where his demons end and mine begin.
I press my forehead to his, our mouths still brushing. “You hear me? No guilt. Just this. Just us.”
And then I pump him harder, the water swirling around us, the room echoing with every gasp he can’t hold back.
I’veneverdone this before, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but it’s… fucking perfect.
My hips buck against his, and the friction nearly undoes me. His gasp rips into my mouth, sharp and needy, and when his teeth catch my lip, bite downhard, I growl deep in my chest.
Instinct takes me, rough and unthinking, and then I do what my body screams for.
I line us up, my straining cock against his, hard to hard, pressed so fucking perfectly together. My hand closes around us both, tight, and when I stroke once, slick water easing the slide, his whole body jolts.
“Oh shit, oh shit,Max,” he gasps, voice cracking, breaking into a moan that vibrates against my mouth.
“Yeah,” I snarl, teeth grazing his jaw as I thrust against him. “Feel that? That’s us.”
I stroke again, harder this time, twist on the upstroke, and he shudders so violently I have to tighten my grip on him. His arms cling around me, nails scratching my back, legs trembling, body going pliant against me like he’s mine to keep. Every desperate sound he makes feeds the fire in my gut, dragging me closer to the edge.
His forehead’s still against mine, eyes squeezed shut as if he can’t handle it. And I watch. I watch and watch as I pump faster, our cocks sliding together in my grip, and all I can think is how fuckingrightthis feels.
How finally—finally—somethingclicks.
How every time before was off, wrong, like I was forcing myself into a shape that never fit.
