Page 274 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

Ronan squeezed his hand.

“I’m not saying that to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I’m trying to understand how we got here.”

Elliot looked at him.

“Do you regret us?”

The question came quietly. Ronan hated how quickly the answer arrived.

“No.”

Elliot’s expression changed.

“That’s probably fucked up.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Ronan laughed. Then Elliot smiled. For half a second, Ronan saw the version of him everyone else knew. Sweet. Pretty. Perfect. Then he remembered blood on a shard of broken glass downstairs. The mask beneath the stairs. Five names. He looked away. Elliot noticed. Of course.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Fuck that word.”

Ronan laughed.

“Asshole.”

“You taught me.”

They fell quiet again. Ronan’s thumb traced the inside of Elliot’s wrist, slow, deliberate. The pulse there jumped under his touch. Elliot’s breath shifted—barely, but Ronan felt it. The two inches between their thighs disappeared when Elliot turned toward him. Ronan closed the rest of the distance. The kiss started soft. Careful. A question more than a demand. Elliot answered by opening for him, tongue sliding against his, tasting of the night’s tension and the sharp edge of everything unsaid. Ronan’s hand rose to the back of Elliot’s neck, fingers threading into dark hair, holding him there while the kiss deepened. Elliot made a low sound against his mouth. The same sound that had once changed the air in a kitchen. Ronan’s body answered instantly—heat pooling low, cock filling against the seam of his jeans.

Clothes came off in pieces. Ronan’s shirt first, then Elliot’s, skin meeting skin in the dim light from the hallway. Ronan pushed him back onto the mattress, following him down, knees bracketing Elliot’s hips. He kissed the hinge of Elliot’s jaw, the soft place beneath his ear, then lower, open-mouthed and wet along the column of his throat. Elliot’s head tipped back, offering more. Ronan’s teeth scraped the tendon there. Soft at first. Then harder. Elliot’s breath hitched.

“Good boys don’t bite,” Ronan murmured against the mark already forming.

Elliot’s laugh was dark, almost broken.

“Then don’t be good.”

Ronan bit down. Hard enough to leave a bruise. Elliot arched beneath him, hips rolling up, the hard line of his cock dragging against Ronan’s through the remaining layers of denim. The friction was perfect and not enough. They stripped the rest with impatient hands. Jeans shoved down, underwear kicked away. Naked, Ronan settled between Elliot’s spread thighs, their cocks sliding together— hot, slick with precome, the drag of skin on skin making both of them groan. Ronan wrapped a hand around both shafts and stroked once, slow, watching Elliot’s face. Elliot’s eyes were half-lidded, lips parted, the careful mask nowhere in sight. This was the version only Ronan got to see.

Ronan reached for the lube. Slicked his fingers. Pressed two against Elliot’s entrance and pushed inside with deliberate care. Elliot’s body opened for him, tight heat clenching around the intrusion. Ronan curled his fingers, found the spot that made Elliot’s cock jump and a raw sound tear from his throat.

“Fuck—Ronan—”

“I’ve got you.”

Three fingers by the time Elliot was rocking down onto them, chasing the stretch. Ronan withdrew, slicked his own cock—thick, flushed, the head already wet—and lined himself up. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt and they were breathing the same air. Elliot’s hands mapped Ronan’s back, nails digging in.

“Move.” Ronan did. Deep, controlled thrusts that dragged over every sensitive place inside him. The wet sound of their bodies meeting filled the quiet room. Elliot’s legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, urging him harder. Ronan gave it—hips snapping forward, the angle shifting until every stroke punched a punched-out sound from Elliot’s throat. Elliot’s mouth found Ronan’s shoulder. He bit down, hard, teeth sinking into muscle the way he always did when he needed to claim something. Ronan growled low and answered with a sharper thrust, burying himself deeper.