Page 257 of The Reckoning of Starlight

“You know you’re not supposed to break—”

Jassyn’s reprimand splintered as Lykor crushed the plant over him. Cold sap spilled along his cock, the shock jerking his hips from the table.

Predatory amusement flared in Lykor’s eyes. “So you’ve said.” His voice roughened with promise. “You’ll regrow it.”

“That’s not the—”

Lykor’s fist closed around him, and Jassyn’s complaint dissolved into something considerably less articulate as the first slick pull sent a shudder up his spine. Lykor’s hand twisted slowly along Jassyn’s length, studs sliding against his palm until the chamber lost its edges.

Lykor’s thumb swept over the crown and rings, working the sap across sensitive skin before his palm descended, cupping the weight between Jassyn’s thighs until a breath escaped through Jassyn’s clenched teeth.

Then Lykor’s hand slipped lower.

Jassyn’s body locked before yielding to the pressure circling him, sap warming against his skin. Lykor watched him, intent on every falter of breath, every response Jassyn failed to hide. Only when Jassyn arched toward him did Lykor press a slick finger inside.

He waited for the tension to ease before adding another. The fuller stretch drew a low sound from Jassyn, his hips tipping instinctively into Lykor’s touch.

Lykor worked deeper until the pad of one finger found the place that bowed Jassyn’s spine from the table. Jassyn chased the pressure, and Lykor withdrew just enough to deny him.

“Easy,” Lykor murmured, satisfaction roughening the word. “Not yet.”

Thighs shaking, Jassyn bit down on a groan, fingers clamping around the table’s edge.

“Please.”

The word scraped out of him, desperate enough to make Lykor’s eyes ignite.

Lykor rose and ripped loose the last fastening of his leathers, dragging them down his hips. His slick hand closed around his own cock, stroking once from base to tip, rough enough to dry Jassyn’s mouth.

Jassyn hooked his legs around Lykor’s waist and hauled him closer.

That snapped the last of Lykor’s restraint. He gripped Jassyn’s thighs and lifted him higher, sinking into him in one steady motion.

Air punched from Jassyn’s lungs. The impact slid him across the ruined map, parchment rasping against his shoulders as ink streaked his skin.

Lykor found his rhythm before Jassyn could gather himself, each movement jolting him. Jassyn’s heels dug into Lykor’s back until the fullness stole every breath.

He caught Lykor’s face and tugged him down. Teeth and tongue stripped the kiss of anything gentle. Lykor’s fangs grazed Jassyn’s lower lip, sharp enough to startle, controlled enough to leave the skin whole.

Pleasure climbed in a blinding rush, whitening the edges of Jassyn’s vision. He arched and caught Lykor’s wrists where they braced beside his head, needing solidness Lykor’s body enclosing his own.

Lykor buried his mouth against Jassyn’s neck, fangs resting against the frantic beat of his pulse.

“Do it,” Jassyn rasped, tilting his head back to bare his throat.

A growl shuddered out of Lykor as his fingers dug into the table beside Jassyn’s shoulders.

Then his fangs sank deep.

A sting flashed at the punctures, then cool venom followed, winding into Jassyn’s blood and warming with every beat of his pulse. An old craving surfaced with it, braided so tightly with pleasure that five years had never taught him how to separate them. His body loosened around Lykor while every place they touched sharpened—the press of skin, the weight of Lykor between his thighs, the ache already gathering low in him.

Jassyn rolled his hips, and Lykor buried himself deeper, breath breaking hot against his ear. One hand slipped between their bodies and closed around Jassyn’s cock.

The first stroke sent heat spiraling through the venom’s spreading warmth.

Lykor drew him steadily back toward the release he’d denied him earlier, mouth pressed to Jassyn’s jaw. His fist twisted over the head of Jassyn’s length as his hips drove forward.

“Now, Jassyn.”