Page 181 of The Reckoning of Starlight

Lykor let Jassyn’s length go and slid his palms to Jassyn’s waist, drawing him fully between his spread thighs.

Jassyn went still above him.

“I want…” Lykor started.

The rest lodged behind his teeth. His jaw worked around it while he stared past Jassyn’s shoulder, because looking straight at him had become indefensible.

“Do we need… Is there something for…”

The words disintegrated as quickly as he produced them. His fingers flexed against Jassyn’s hips. Speech had failed him, but the rest of him was proving considerably less subtle, legs spread around Jassyn as he lifted into him.

Their cocks slid together.

Cold metal dragged along Lykor’s shaft, each ring and stud warming with the slow glide. A curse tore from Lykor’s throat. Jassyn went taut above him, then moved again, slower, tracing the piercings over that same aching stretch of flesh. Lykor rose to meet him.

He could endure torture. He could stare down dragons. But apparently he couldn’t string a sentence together about getting fucked.

Jassyn read him anyway.

He lowered himself until their chests touched, his voice quiet enough to make the question worse. “Are you asking me to—”

“Yes,” Lykor snarled before Jassyn could finish. Hearing it said aloud might actually kill him.

Then, because the first word hadn’t been enough, and his cowardice had limits after all, he forced out the rest, repeating Jassyn’s words from earlier.

“I want you.”

Jassyn’s expression softened, and Lykor looked away before it could do any further damage.

Jassyn reached for the painted pot Lykor had dismissed as another useless decoration and dragged it closer to the edge of the nightstand, its squat cactus swollen with sap.

Jassyn squeezed one fleshy crown until clear liquid beaded along the green skin.

Lykor watched those fingers—the same ones that had unclasped his armor, traced his scars, held him steady while he came apart—and his mouth went dry. “What is…”

A flush climbed Jassyn’s throat. “It’s…” His thumb coaxed another bead from the plant. “You can thank Fenn and Koln later.”

Lykor’s head dropped back against the mattress. “I should’ve known they’d be involved.”

Jassyn eased lower between Lykor’s thighs. One hand skimmed the inside of his hip and guided his leg wider. The other hovered slick between them, the destination becoming abundantly clear.

Then Jassyn stopped.

Waiting.

His breathing had gone too even, each inhale measured the way it was when he forced costly magic through his body and refused to show the strain. The healer’s calm still governed his hands, though his pulse battered the side of his throat.

Lykor realized then what he’d asked for. What it meant for Jassyn to choose this after others had forced his body to endure what he’d never offered.

“Is this…” His voice came rougher than he meant it to. “Are you all right with this?”

Surprise loosened the careful set of Jassyn’s face. His hand tightened against Lykor’s thigh, warm and sure as he met his stare.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m choosing you.”

Jassyn’s slick fingers brushed the sensitive rim between his thighs.

Every muscle in Lykor locked. His body met the touch like an ambush, bracing against the very thing he’d chosen.