Page 18 of Your Devoted Monster
The restraint was visible in every line of his body—muscles tense, jaw clenched, throat working.
But his eyes. God, his eyes were wild. Feral. Still dangerous despite everything, maybemoredangerous because of it. This wasn't Gabriel defanged. This was Gabriel showing Ezra the raw truth underneath all that control—the thing that wanted to be known, to be seen, to bematched.
He wants this, Ezra realized with a jolt.He wants me to have this power. Wants to be helpless for me the way I was helpless for him.
The thought made something dark and possessive unfurl in Ezra's chest.
Without warning, without thinking it through, Ezra lunged up andmoved.
Gabriel hit the concrete with a grunt of surprise, and before he could even react, Ezra was on top of him, straddling his hips, knife back at his throat like it had never left. Ezra didn't give him time to adjust, didn't give either of them time to think.
“Ezra,” Gabriel gasped, but Ezra was already reaching between them with his free hand, frantically guiding Gabriel's cock back inside. No finesse, no patience, just desperate need to be filled again while he held Gabriel's life in his hands.
Gabriel's face when Ezra sank back down on him—fuck. His mouth fell open, eyes rolling back. That careful mask completelygone, replaced by raw need. He looked younger like this, less controlled. More real.
This time Ezra was in control, setting the pace, taking what he wanted. This time Gabriel was the one pinned, helpless, at Ezra's mercy.
The reversal made Ezra's head spin.
"Three years," Ezra said, already starting to move, rolling his hips in slow, deliberate circles that made Gabriel's breath catch. "Three years of thinking about this moment."
Three years of nightmares and fantasies all bleeding together. Three years of wanting Gabriel dead and wanting him here, wanting revenge and wanting this.
He lifted up until just the tip remained inside, then slammed back down hard enough to make Gabriel's eyes roll back, to make his whole body arch off the concrete. Set a punishing rhythm that had Gabriel gasping beneath him, that perfect mouth open and panting. "Thought about killing you," he continued, grinding down hard, reveling in the control, in watching Gabriel fall apart. "Thought about finding you and—fuck?—!"
Gabriel thrust up to meet him, hitting that spot that made him see stars, and Ezra's knife hand wavered for just a second. But Gabriel's face—Jesus, the look on Gabriel's face. Pure desperation, pure need, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Sweat beading on his temples. That pale skin flushed all the way down his chest.
Ezra’s free hand tore open Gabriel’s shirt, found exactly what he needed to see. The scar was raised, proud under his fingers. "Thought about gutting you properly this time."
Gabriel's cock twitched hard inside him at that, hips jerking up involuntarily. “Tell me.”
"You're sick," Ezra gasped, riding him harder now, knife pressing deeper against his throat, watching another bead of blood well up. Watching Gabriel's eyes, hungry and reverent.
"So are you." Gabriel's hands gripped his hips bruisingly tight, fucking up into him with abandon, no pretense of control left. His voice was wrecked, barely recognizable.
He was right. Ezra was getting hard again, his cock filling. His blood was singing, every nerve ending alive with power and danger and twisted intimacy.
They stopped talking then, just bodies moving together, violent and perfect. Ezra rode him like he was trying to break them both, knife steady at Gabriel's throat even as his rhythm grew frantic. He could feel everything—the burn in his thighs, the stretch of Gabriel inside him, the weight of the knife in his hand, the warmth of Gabriel's blood on his fingers.
And Gabriel beneath him, coming undone in ways Ezra had only dreamed about. Every thrust made Gabriel's breath hitch, made his eyes flutter, made that controlled facade crack wider. His hands were desperate on Ezra's hips, guiding but not controlling. Helping but not taking over.
Those amber-ringed eyes that had haunted Ezra for three years weren't looking at him with murder anymore. Or even with lust. It was something else, something worse. Recognition. Like looking in a mirror and seeing your own madness reflected back.
We're the same, Ezra thought, and didn't know if the realization was horrifying or comforting.We're both so fuckingwrong?—
And we're perfect for each other because of it.
Gabriel's hand came up slowly, deliberately, and wrapped around Ezra's wrist. Not fighting for the knife. Not trying to disarm him. Just... holding. Their fingers tangled together around the handle, both of them gripping the weapon that had started everything.
Ezra's breath caught. He could feel Gabriel's pulse through their joined hands, racing as fast as his own. Could see something new in Gabriel's hungry gaze.
Gabriel guided their joined hands down from his throat to his chest, right over his heart.
And Ezra knew what he wanted without being told.
He carved the first letter into Gabriel's chest, right over his heart.E.
The knife cut through skin like butter. Blood welled up immediately, hot against Ezra's fingers.
