Page 39 of Catching Flynn

“You sound so calm.”

“Baby, I am not calm.” Zavier slid his hands up Flynn’s sides, feeling every ripple of movement under his palms. “I’m trying not to lose my mind.”

That seemed to please Flynn. A crooked, dazed smile flashed across his face before it dissolved when Zavier thrust up into him and hit that same spot again. Flynn shuddered hard.

“There. Again,” his mate said, the words falling apart on a moan.

Zavier sat up enough to pull Flynn down into his arms and took over, fucking up into him while Flynn clung to his shoulders. Their mouths met messily, all tongue and breath and soft bitten sounds. Flynn’s body gave itself over more with each stroke, tension and vulnerability and pleasure turning him molten in Zavier’s hands.

When Zavier rolled them back, Flynn came willingly, legs opening wide around his hips. Zavier settled over him and drove in with a little more force now, still careful, but no longer pretending he was not close. The wet slap of their bodies filled the room. The mattress knocked softly against the wall. Flynn moaned into Zavier’s shoulder, then licked and kissed at his throat in messy gratitude that made Zavier’s entire body tighten.

“You feel so good,” Flynn murmured, sounding wrecked by the truth of it.

Zavier’s control frayed.

He caught Flynn’s face and kissed him hard, then braced one hand beside his head and fucked him deep, the rhythm turning urgent. Flynn met him as best he could, slim body taking each thrust, breath breaking louder now. Zavier wrapped a hand around Flynn’s cock again and stroked him faster.

That pushed Flynn right to the edge.

His mate came with a sharp cry, spilling hot over Zavier’s hand and both their stomachs. The pulsing drag of Flynn’s orgasm around his cock nearly sent Zavier over immediately. For one burning second he only watched him—flushed, trembling, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open—and a primal certainty tore through him.

Mine.

The bond slammed into instinct.

Zavier bent his head to where Flynn’s neck met his shoulder and bit down as orgasm ripped through him.

Flynn cried out and arched under him, not in pain, but in shock and intensity, and Zavier came hard with his teeth sunk into that tender place, his body locked over his mate as release pounded through him.

Then everything narrowed to heartbeat.

His. Flynn’s.

One rhythm. Then the same.

Under his palm, pressed to his mate’s sternum, Zavier felt the exact moment their hearts synchronized. The pounding matched beat for beat, steady and impossible, and his breath caught in his throat.

Mist rose from Flynn’s chest in a thin ribbon, pale yellow and bright against the warm gold lamplight. At the same time, another ribbon spilled from Zavier’s own chest, a different color, violet and just as luminous. He could only stare, half-drunk on climax and awe, while the two streams curled upward, twined around each other with liquid grace, and then shot forward.

One sank into his mate’s chest. The other pierced Zavier’s.

There was no pain. Only a violent rush of belonging that spread through him so fast it stole the air from his lungs. Flynn’s scent flooded his senses even harder, but something else came with it too.

A bone-deep connection no longer just desire or instinct.

A pledge to protect and cherish Flynn.

A Vow to destroy whoever brought him harm.

Chapter Nine

Flynn yawned, shuffling toward the kitchen to grab something to drink. Then he was crawling back under the covers. As he reached the kitchen entrance, Flynn gave the wall a scratch. “Just in case, furball,” he mumbled, then yawned, eyes nearly closed.

The knock landed hard enough to rattle the cheap frame.

Flynn jerked, hand flattening against the kitchen counter while his half-awake brain tried to sort dream from real life. Gray early light seeped through the blinds, turning the apartment dull and bluish. The coffeemaker had just started its sad little burbling, and the whole kitchen smelled like grounds and toast he hadn’t actually put in yet. Bare feet cold against the floor, he blinked at the door, wondering why someone was at his apartment at the ass crack of dawn.

Another knock.