18. Knives

EIGHTEEN

KNIVES

"Christ, I'm wiped," Maddox says as I close the door to our rented room behind us.

I'm tired too, but the adrenaline of the violence hasn't left my system yet, not even after taking care of bodies and listening to Pyre moan and whine about how his life is ruined.

We're filthy, too, and I know we should hop in the shower but I can't get myself to care about that.

There's only one thing I want to do right now.

Maddox takes a step toward the bed. I grab the collar of his shirt and yank him backward.

He yelps and glares at me. "Knives, what the fuck?"

I growl and slam him against the wall, boxing him in place. "Do you know how hot you were, staring down Boar and his men?"

A full-body shudder runs through Maddox, and his eyes go dark with desire, with need , as I pin him in place. "Not as hot as you were," he says, his voice hoarse. "Fuck. I can't remember the last time I was this horny."

I don't tell him about how my heart had frozen when I'd seen him get caught. I don't mention that for one small, fraction of a second, I'd almost stormed in without a plan because I couldn't bear the thought of him getting hurt.

It's hypocritical, considering how much I want to hurt him now.

I drive my thigh between his legs and pull sharply on his hair to force his head up. He gasps in pain, and I use that opportunity to kiss him brutally, not giving him time to adjust before I've got my tongue in his mouth.

You're fucking mine , I think.

He doesn't seem to mind the implication. He yields so beautifully to me—always has, but it seems more important now, more immediate.

I fuck his mouth with my tongue, and he moans so loudly I'm sure everyone in the B he lets me take the lead, relaxing and clenching around my cock in equal measure.

"You're so fucking filthy, Mads," I say as I pound into him. "Look at you, just taking it for me. Your only thought is getting fucked through the bed by me."

He gasps out his agreement, for all that any words are a slurred mess of syllables. This time, when he tries to thrust up against me, I let him. It makes it hard to hold back, but I manage, for all that it's increasingly difficult not to just blow.

Even though I know he could come without it, I reach down and grasp his cock, squeezing it hard before giving it a few quick jerks.

That's all it takes for him to come, and he spills all over my hand as nonsensical sounds make their way past his lips.

"Come," he pleads, throwing his head back.

I wish I could fill him up properly, to let him feel the heat of my cum in his ass.

Soon. One day very, very soon, I will take him bare and let him feel every bit of it.

For now, though, I fill the condom instead, groaning loudly as my own orgasm makes my entire body shudder with pleasure.

I collapse on top of him, catching myself just in time to not completely crush him. Maddox trembles and turns his head, seeking another kiss, and I give it to him. I grab his chin to kiss him properly. The kisses last long after our erections have subsided and our breathing has calmed.

I slide off him and reach for the condom to dispose of it. While I'm up, I grab tissues too, although I don't think those will help much.

Maddox is giving me a goofy smile when I return to bed.

"Hi," I say, setting the tissues onto his chest so I can undo the belt.

He starts giggling, and I give him a curious look. Subspace, maybe, only the laughter continues for a while.

"Okay, what's so funny?" I ask him.

"You," Maddox answers. "There's cum on your beard."

I reach up automatically, and I realize my mistake almost immediately. My hands weren't exactly clean, and, judging my Maddox's renewed laughter, I've only made it worse.

I roll my eyes and smile back. "There's cum all over your chest, too. And…" I wipe my hand on his jaw. "Your face."

He laughs again. "Yeah. It's everywhere. It's like we should shower or something." He shakes his head. "If I can even walk. Fuck. We're so gross." Which he seems to think is hilarious.

I lie down next to him and reach for the sheet. It's got very obvious mud and ash stains on it. "Ugh. We'll have to offer to do laundry for Rebecca. I don't want her to see this." I pull the sheet over us anyway and drape an arm over Maddox's chest.

I can practically feel the grime and sweat on us now. I tell myself it's fine, we can shower in the morning.

After about five seconds, I groan in frustration. "I swear, I didn't even notice how gross we were earlier. Now I can't stop thinking about it."

"Oh, don't lie," he says, grinning at me. "You totally got off on being sweaty and filthy."

I can't argue with that, but now that we're done, it feels like too much. It doesn't help that we're both hot from fucking, and the idea of a cool, relaxing shower is more appealing than just sleeping this off. "I'll shower first," I tell him. "And get new sheets for us."

"Better you than me," he says, closing his eyes. "I'll just lie here until you get back."

I get out of bed again, smiling at him. His breathing is already starting to even out.

I can't believe I almost threw this away.

I can't believe I thought I could keep hold of my hatred.

I don't think I'm ready for confessions quite yet, but my gut knows that I'm not giving Maddox up. Our lives are bound to each other.

I'm never letting him go.