Page 31 of My Defiant Mate
He doesn't wait for me to adjust. He can't. This isn't just pleasure; it's a physical argument against every doubt we had. His hips snap forward in a punishing, perfect rhythm, eachthrust driving me back against the door, a primal drumbeat of our reunion. Let them hear. Let Henderson hear. Let the whole world know this is non-negotiable.
"Jionni," I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Please."
"I've got you," he growls, his voice a low vibration against my ear. He shifts his angle, hitting that spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. "Always. I've got you."
The pleasure is so intense it's almost painful, wiping my mind clean of everything but him. The terror of the morning, the cold dread of an empty future—it all burns away in the heat of his body, in the certainty of his possession. I feel myself building toward release, my whole body tightening with each powerful thrust. I'm close, but I need more. I need the finality. The proof.
"Please," I beg again, the word a sob. "Knot me. Jionni, please, lock me to you."
The title, the plea—it's his undoing. His rhythm falters for a half-second, his eyes flashing with something ancient and possessive.
"Always," he growls, his voice barely human. "You're everything."
With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt. I feel it happen—the base of his cock swelling deep inside me. It's not a shock this time. It's a key turning in a lock. It's an anchor dropping in a storm. The pressure is exquisite, a solid, unmoving weight that pins me, holds me, secures me. It clicks into place, and I know, with a certainty that settles deep in my bones, that I can never be adrift again.
The feeling of being so completely filled, so irrevocably bound, sends me over the edge. I cry out his name, my body clenching around his knot, milking him deeper.
He follows me with a guttural roar, his body shuddering against mine as he fills me with his release. His arms wraparound me like steel bands, holding me up as the aftershocks ripple through us both.
For a long moment, we stay like that, panting against each other's skin, our hearts racing in tandem, physically locked together. Slowly, carefully, he shifts us away from the door, carrying me to his bed without breaking our connection. We collapse onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs, his weight a comforting pressure above me.
"I thought I lost you," he whispers again, his voice raw with spent emotion. "When you told me to go... I thought that was it. That my parents were right and this was all just a curse."
I reach up, tracing the sharp line of his jaw with trembling fingers. "I was scared," I admit, my voice thick. "Terrified of losing everything I'd worked for. But then I realized... I was about to lose the only thing that mattered."
He turns his head, pressing a kiss into my palm. "Never again," he says fiercely. "I'll burn this whole university down before I let anyone come between us."
"We don't have to," I say, a watery smile on my lips. "We did it together."
He shifts slightly, careful of the knot still tying us together, and brushes a strand of hair from my forehead. "I meant every word in that room. You're it for me, Toby. The only thing that matters."
The words settle in my chest, a warm certainty that feels like coming home. Jionni's knot seats deep inside me, a binding promise that feels more real than any rule I've ever followed. For the first time in my life, I don't need a plan to know exactly where I am. I'm anchored. I'm home.
Jionni
Three Weeks Later
"Lift with your knees, not your back," Toby says, his voice crisp even though he's wrestling a box labeled 'Poli-Sci: Foundational Texts' through my doorway.
"Yes, Resident Advisor Song-Gi," I mock, grabbing the other end. It weighs a fucking ton. "Jesus, what's in here? Bodies?"
"Books." He rolls his eyes, but his mouth quirks up at one corner. That little almost-smile still does things to me. "Some of us read things that aren't guitar tabs."
"I read," I protest, helping him heave the box onto the desk. My desk. Our desk. "I read... stuff."
"The back of cereal boxes doesn't count."
We set it down with a thud that makes my cheap particleboard desk groan. Toby doesn't waste a second. He starts unpacking, pulling out thick hardcovers with titles likeDemocratic Theory and Practice.He moves like he's got a plan for every book, bringing his perfect order to my mess, one textbook at a time.
I should be annoyed. Three weeks ago, I would have been. My room has always been my sanctuary, my private chaos. I've never wanted anyone else's fingerprints on my life.
But watching him arrange his books on my shelf, seeing his color-coded planner next to my amp, his perfectly folded sweaters sitting beside my pile of band tees—a warmth spreads through my chest, a bone-deep satisfaction I wasn't expecting.
This isn't just my room anymore. It's ours. The start of our territory.
Toby pauses with a book in hand. "What? You're staring."
"I like watching you. I like seeing you here."
