Chapter 397: Point received.

Chapter 397: Chapter 397: Point received.

The kiss broke only because Liam needed air, and even then he chased Arik’s mouth for another half-second before letting his head fall back against the pillow.

Above him, Arik was still grinning. That particular grin. The one that meant he had already won an argument Liam hadn’t realized he was losing.

"You’re insufferable," Liam managed.

"You climbed on top of me."

"To make a point."

"Point received." Arik’s hand slid from Liam’s waist up beneath the sleeping shirt, palm flattening against the small of his back. Warm. Possessive without trying to be. "Now I’d like to make mine."

Liam’s breath caught at the contact—skin on skin after three days of careful distance, of Arik holding him through the worst of the heat while refusing to take anything the fever offered.

The shirt bunched at Liam’s ribs. Arik’s thumb traced the ladder of his spine one vertebra at a time, and Liam arched into it, hips rolling against Arik’s stomach. The friction dragged a sound out of him; he didn’t bother swallowing.

"There," Arik said quietly. "That’s what I wanted to hear."

"You could have heard it three days ago."

"I could have heard a lot of things three days ago." Arik shifted his weight onto one forearm and used the other hand to work the shirt higher, up past Liam’s sternum, past his collarbones. "None of them would have been you choosing."

The shirt came off over Liam’s head and landed somewhere in the blankets. Cool morning air met his chest, pebbling his nipples, and then Arik’s mouth was there—hot and wet, tongue dragging a slow circle around one tight bud before he sucked it between his lips.

Liam’s hands flew to Arik’s hair.

Fuck.

The pull of it, the wet suction, the graze of teeth just shy of too much, his thighs clenched around Arik’s hips, and his back bent off the mattress like a bow being drawn.

"Ah—" The sound was small and broken. He didn’t care.

Arik hummed against his chest, pleased, and switched to the other nipple.

Same treatment. Lick, suck, the barest scrape of teeth.

Liam’s fingers twisted in black hair, and his hips ground upward, seeking pressure, finding only the hard plane of Arik’s stomach through the thin cotton of his sleep pants.

"Off," Liam gasped. "Take yours off."

Arik lifted his head long enough to look at him. Pupils blown wide, mouth reddened. "Ask nicely."

"You’re the emperor. You can undress yourself."

A laugh, low and real, and then Arik sat back on his heels and pulled his shirt over his head in one motion.

Morning light caught the breadth of his shoulders, the faint silver lines of old scars across his ribs, the trail of dark hair disappearing into his waistband.

Liam reached for him. Arik caught his wrists and pressed them back to the mattress on either side of his head.

"No," Arik said. "Not yet."

His thumbs found the scent glands at Liam’s wrists and circled them slowly.

The touch sent a jolt straight down Liam’s spine.

Liam’s scent bloomed into the air between them.

Saint’s breath, clean and faintly sweet without the heavy honey of heat, and underneath it, desire.

Arik inhaled. His eyes went half-lidded.

"There you are," he murmured, and lowered himself until his whole weight pressed Liam into the mattress, chest to chest, hips to hips. The hard line of his cock through his sleep pants settled against Liam’s thigh, and Liam’s own answered with an eager twitch.

Then Arik kissed him again.

He kissed Liam like he was memorizing the shape of his mouth, catching the lower lip between both of his and tugging gently before slanting deeper. Their tongues slid together with a wet, quiet sound, and Liam made a noise into it that vibrated between them.

He freed one hand from Arik’s grip to lace their fingers together against the pillow.

Arik’s breath stuttered.

His hips ground down once, involuntarily, and the drag of his cock against Liam’s thigh pulled a groan from somewhere deep in his chest.

"Liam," he said against his mouth. Just that. Like the name was the only word he had left.

"I’m here." Liam squeezed his fingers. "I’m clear. I’m choosing. I want—"

Arik kissed the rest of the sentence away, but his free hand was already moving, sliding down Liam’s stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of his sleep pants. His fingers found him slick and ready, and he groaned again, louder, as if the evidence of Liam’s want was more than he could hold.

"Three days," Arik said hoarsely. "Three days of smelling this and not—"

"You didn’t have to wait."

"You would have hated me after."

"I would never—" Liam’s hips jerked as two fingers pressed against his entrance, circling, spreading slick in slow arcs. "Ah. I would never."

Arik’s mouth found his throat and stayed there, teeth grazing the juncture where neck met shoulder.

Liam tilted his head back, baring it for more.

The fingers slid inside.

The wet sound of it filled the quiet room.

Liam’s back arched off the mattress, and his thighs spread wider, knees falling open around Arik’s hips. Two fingers, then three, curling forward to press hard against the spot that made white sparks flash behind his eyes.

"Nnn—Arik—"

"Shh." A kiss to his jaw. "I’ve got you."

The stretch burned pleasantly, and the slick sounds grew louder as Arik worked him open with slow, patient strokes.

Liam’s fingers clenched around Arik’s and his breath came in uneven gasps that he couldn’t smooth out.

The fingers withdrew.

Liam whined at the sudden emptiness, a needy sound he would have been embarrassed by if he’d had any capacity left for embarrassment.

Sleep pants gone. Both of them.

Liam didn’t remember Arik removing his own, only that the fabric was no longer between them and the blunt head of his cock was pressing where his fingers had been.

"Slick as you are," Arik murmured, "this is going to take a moment."

"Don’t care." Liam hooked his ankles behind Arik’s thighs. "Move."

Arik moved.

Slow, steady pressure, the ring of muscle giving way by degrees.

Liam grabbed a fistful of the sheets with his free hand and held on.

He felt the stretch as the head slipped past, and Arik sank in inch by inch, filling him, and Liam’s vision went blurry at the edges.

"Breathe," Arik said.

Liam hadn’t realized he’d stopped.

He dragged in air through his nose, and Arik seated himself fully with a groan that seemed pulled from somewhere low in his ribs.

Their laced fingers tightened on the pillow until knuckles went white.

"Okay?" Arik asked.

Liam nodded, jaw tight.

"Words."

"Yes." Liam’s voice cracked. "Yes, Arik, you already know–"

Arik pulled back and thrust home.

The sound of it, the wet slap of skin on skin, filled the space between their panting breaths.

Liam’s back bowed, and his abdomen tightened as Arik found a rhythm—deep, slow strokes that dragged against every sensitive inch inside him and then pressed hard before pulling away again.

The world narrowed to the size of the bed. To Arik’s weight braced over him, the sweat-slick heat of his chest, the flex of his hips between Liam’s thighs.

Their joined hands stayed pinned above Liam’s head, fingers interlaced, and every thrust sent a jolt through that connection as much as through his body.

Liam’s cock lay trapped between their stomachs, leaking, smearing pre-come across Arik’s abdomen with every roll of his hips.

He thrust up into the friction, a mounting heat building at the base of his spine, and Arik dropped his head to bite gently at the gland on Liam’s throat.

Everything went bright.

"Arik..."

"Close?" The word came out rough. Arik buried his face against Liam’s neck and his hips stuttered, losing their careful rhythm, driving deeper on pure instinct. "Because I’m... Liam, I need to..."

"Do it."

"Not yet." Teeth clenched. "Not until you..."

Liam squeezed their fingers and rolled his hips deliberately, clamping down hard, pulling a choked sound out of Arik that was almost a growl. "I said do it."

Arik’s rhythm shattered.

The stretch changed to a new pressure at Liam’s entrance, thick and unyielding, swelling fast where Arik’s cock was buried deepest.

Liam’s eyes flew wide.

"Oh," he breathed.

The knot forced itself in.

Fullness punched the air out of his lungs. His vision whited at the edges, a burn so intense it teetered on pain, slick easing the way as the swell popped past the ring of muscle and lodged deep inside him. Filling him.

Arik locked his arms around Liam’s back and held on, shaking.

"Sorry... I..." He sounded wrecked. "Couldn’t stop."

"Don’t apologize." Liam’s voice came out thin. His stomach felt distended, pressed out by the impossible size of it. "Don’t you dare apologize."

The knot pulsed. Once. Twice. And then Arik came.

The first jet of heat flooded Liam’s insides, and he felt it, scorching and thick and trapped with nowhere to go.

The knot swelled further, sealing them tight, and the second pulse followed hard on the first. Then a third. A fourth. Volume building with no release, packing Liam fuller with each rhythmic throb until the pressure became a heavy, sloshing weight in his belly, pressing against every sensitive wall.

Liam came from the sheer fullness of it. Untouched, cock still trapped between their sweat-slick stomachs, the clench of his body milking Arik’s knot as wave after wave of cramping pleasure rolled through him.