Page 38 of Catching Flynn

“So fucking beautiful,” he said against Flynn’s lips.

Color deepened across Flynn’s face. “Rude time for compliments.”

“That’s when you need them most.”

A soft laugh escaped Flynn, then turned into a moan when Zavier rolled his hips shallowly. The movement dragged them both into a new heat. Zavier braced himself over him and moved again, still gentle, still controlled, letting Flynn’s body learn the rhythm.

The bed gave a quiet creak under them. Their skin slid damply together. Every thrust pulled a sound from Flynn now—breathy moans, sharp little gasps, helpless noises he seemed to hate and love making. Zavier kissed him each time the noises climbed too high, swallowing them, licking into his mouth while he fucked him in slow, deep strokes.

Flynn’s hands wandered. One clutched at Zavier’s upper arm, feeling the tension there. The other slid down his back, then lower, nails dragging lightly before gripping his ass and making Zavier groan into his mouth.

“That got your attention,” Flynn murmured, dazed but smug.

“It did.” Zavier rocked into him harder, enough to pull a cry from his mate. “Smart mouth.”

“That’s all I’ve got right now.” Flynn’s breathing hitched. “Brain’s just gone. Completely evacuated.”

Zavier smiled despite the pressure building hot and relentless in his gut. “I noticed.”

He shifted, angling deeper, and Flynn’s whole body jerked. The moan that tore out of him was louder this time, filthy and sweet enough to make Zavier’s cock pulse hard inside him. Flynn grabbed the sheets with one hand and Zavier with the other, holding on as if he could not decide what to anchor himself to.

There. That angle. Zavier did it again, then again, savoring the way Flynn’s body reacted each time. His mate writhed beneath him, slim frame taut with sensation, cock trapped hot between their stomachs and smearing wet across both of them.

“Oh fuck,” Flynn gasped, head tipping back into the pillows. “There. Do that again. Be evil.”

Zavier laughed under his breath and gave him exactly that, keeping the rhythm deliberate and deep until Flynn was trembling. Then he slowed just enough to kiss down his throat, over his collarbone, across one flushed nipple, body worship mixed with possession until he could feel Flynn melting under his hands.

Every touch mattered. Flynn seemed starved for it, for the softness of it. Zavier kissed his shoulder, stroked his ribs, ran his hand down Flynn’s stomach and back up again, as if he could memorize him by feel. It amazed him how easily Flynn fit beneath him, how his narrow hips opened for Zavier, how his lean body held such vivid response. Nothing about him was small in this. Flynn filled the room. Filled Zavier. There was no space left untouched.

“Zavier,” Flynn said again, almost helpless now.

Reaching between them, Zavier wrapped his hand around Flynn’s cock and started stroking in time with his thrusts.

Flynn broke.

His back bowed off the bed. A string of moans poured out of him, wrecked and breathless, his grip turning desperate on Zavier’s shoulder. The sound of his pleasure soaked through Zavier like heat. He kept the pace steady, watching his mate come apart piece by piece while rain whispered harder outside.

“You’re gorgeous like this,” Zavier said, unable to hold it in.

Flynn shook his head weakly on the pillow. “Don’t say pretty things while I’m being fucked. It’s unfair.”

“You started it.”

“That sounds fake,” Flynn panted, then cried out when Zavier tightened his hand and drove deeper.

The sheets had twisted around their legs. Sweat slicked their skin. Zavier’s body strained with the effort of going slow when instinct urged him to chase his own release, but he wanted his mate drowning in pleasure first. Wanted him fully there with him.

He rolled them suddenly, taking Flynn with him until his mate sat over him, startled and flushed, hair falling into his face.

Flynn blinked down at him. “Zavier.”

He grinned and pushed the hair back from his mate’s forehead. “You can handle it, kitten.”

A shaky laugh left Flynn. Then Zavier guided his hips, helping him find the motion. his mate gasped at the deeper angle and braced his hands on Zavier’s chest, learning quickly. The sight nearly destroyed him. Flynn sitting over his dick, slim body moving with increasing confidence, lips open, nipples tight, cock flushed and leaking against his stomach. Zavier gripped his hips and helped him rise and sink, slow at first, then with more purpose as his mate found the rhythm that made him moan.

“Fuck,” Flynn said, voice wrecked. “This is obscene.”

“It is.”