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It seemed as though we were boys again, playing in the long grass, discovering what we did not know.
“I never want this to end,” he said.
I could make it so. Make him live this moment a thousand times, and each time he’d experience it as though it were his first. He’d forever live in bliss, never knowing what he did not know. Yet, despite its pleasure, it would still be cruel, for the bird would not know the world outside its cage, and birds were made to fly.
“Devere? What’s wrong?”
I shook my head, swallowed the rising swell of guilt and regret, then dropped to my knees and took his length between my lips, as he’d done with me. I sucked and wrapped my tongue around him, teased and stroked, listening to how he gasped, feeling how he swayed in time with my strokes, how he fought to control his need to pump deep down my throat. His fingers twisted in my hair, tightening his hold. He threw his head back and rocked, losing himself to me, to this moment, giving me all of him.
He believed he wasn’t worthy, but he was the brightest light in all of Minerva, like a star in the night sky, and I’d stolen him from the world.
I’d give him back, I would, after this night—a night we both wished would last forever.
ChapterThirty-Eight
Valentine
Outside the toy store, my world was a scattered, broken puzzle. But here, with Devere, everything fell into place. Here, the world and my place in it were simple. This was all I’d wanted—to be close to Devere, to see true delight in his eyes, to feel the needy confidence of his touch and know he wanted me too. Fuck Minerva and their backward ways. Fuck Adair and his meddling. And fuck the fae—not in the way they’d like. I had Devere. He was mine and I was his, and if we had each other, nothing else mattered.
His body was a marvel, and under my touch, he came alive.
When the pleasure his mouth offered became too much, I pulled him off his knees and marched him to the bed. He quickly worked at his trousers and slipped them off his hips. Devere’s whole body was perfect in a way I struggled to find words for. Soft skin over firm muscle that quivered under my lips. I sought to kiss his every inch, to marvel at every sweet dip and valley, to explore all of him. And when he lay back on the bed, I crawled over him, relishing every kiss, every open-eyed gaze and quick gasp.
I kissed his neck, and he clutched my arms, folded a leg around mine, and pulled me down. We shared breaths and trembled together, and as I placed my ear to his chest, his clockwork heart beat hard and fast.
The world was a mess, but here, now, the horror of it couldn’t reach us.
I loved him more with every kiss, every touch, every dance of his fingers down my back, and every tremble. It seemed like enough, to feel him and breathe him, but then his hand grasped our cocks together, and his precise fingers stroked as I stared deep into his haunted eyes.
Sex had always been rushed, a need, a race to climax and little else, and it had always left me feeling hollow.
But this was more in every way. He was more. This moment went deeper than any physical need. He touched parts of me that defied explanation. Love, I realized, was magic too. It defied logic, defied all the rules, and defied reality. Love was love. And my love for Devere was more than physical. It lived in my heart, so I knew it was true.
He arched under me, let go of us, and breathed hard. “Valentine.”
He clutched my shoulders and peered into my eyes. There was so much grief there that I almost stopped this. But he didn’t want that. He needed this, as did I. I reared up onto my knees, still straddling his thighs, and grasped our erections together.
Devere’s eyes rolled, and he clutched my thighs, bit his lips, gasped and moaned, “More.”
I’d give him the world, if I knew how to free him.
But for now, my love would have to be enough.
He gasped and twitched, shuddered hard, and dug his nails deep into my skin. And he came, pulsing creamy cum over his lower abs. I didn’t know what came over me, but I bowed over and licked him clean, then smirked at his wide-eyed expression. Oh, the wonderful things we could do with each other. This was just our beginning.
Devere’s flushed, awe-filled face suddenly turned sly, and in one quick sideways motion, he bucked me off, flipped me under him, and pinned me down. He laughed at my circumstances, now I was pinned to the bed. “Hmm,” he purred, falling forward so all I could see were his eyes and how they sparkled with desire. He lowered himself, reached behind him, grasped my eager cock, and angled it into the slick tightness behind his balls.
The moment he straightened and sheathed himself over my length, I stuttered a gasp, moaned long and low and deep, and lost my mind over how he rocked over my cock.
This was always meant to be. Devere and me. Yet we’d danced around our love, over and over again, inexplicably pulled apart as soon as we became close. I didn’t understand why the world had refused to let us love, but surely now we’d won.
He rocked faster, sensing how I’d surrendered. I dropped my head back and let him control me, control all of it. Pleasure and desire spiraled higher, racing toward a breaking point. I threw open my eyes and saw a flicker of sadness vanish from Devere’s gaze. Then it all became too much. Lust spiraled, desire snapped, and I came so hard that a cry left my lips.
Devere fell forward, I wrapped him in my arms, and we trembled together to the sounds of our jagged breathing and galloping hearts. Nothing in my life had ever felt so right.
* * *
Waking next to Devere was a new kind of delight. His hair had fanned over the pillow, tousled and free, and his slightly parted lips demanded to be kissed. He’d tugged on a skinny undershirt sometime in the night, and it had ridden up his middle. He dreamed about something that fluttered his lashes in his sleep. Like this, sprawled with abandon, he seemed so free. He’d been free last night too, in ways I’d never imagined I’d see and touch and taste from him. The memory alone aroused me again.
