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“Get used to it,” is all Sascha says. His lips find the bite mark he put inside Avery’s thigh while tormenting him earlier, fluttering over it as he gently brushes Avery’s damp pubic hair away from his cunt.

“I have to shave,” Avery mutters, self-conscious.

Sascha snorts. “Don’t worry about it. Mammals are supposed to be hairy.”

Avery pauses, about to argue because healwaystrimmedhis body hair before, but decides against it. As a literal cat, getting hair in his mouth probably bothers Sascha far less than the average person. Not having to critically examine his body is unusual for Avery. His whole life up to now was spent being small and weak: Dual failures with his transness keeping him from being arealman.

The same way no one will ever see him as a good enough alpha.

But Sascha moves his mouth closer to blow teasingly over Avery’s cock, the cool sensation distracting him, making his lower body tense with anticipation. “Eyes on me,” Sascha says, smile crooked but fond in a way that wrenches at Avery’s heart. “I’ve got you, for as long as you need me.”

Forever,Avery thinks wildly. He wants to say so, but Sascha winks and goes down, tongue dragging through the come slicking Avery’s cunt. All thoughts scatter, leaving Avery writhing on a tangled sheet, outside himself and yet, for the first time in ages, entirely safe.

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

Sascha

Thirty. Six. Fucking.Hours.

That’s how long it’s been.

Between bouts, Avery sleeps fitfully before thrashing awake without warning, desperate for Sascha to touch him again. Sascha’s not entirely sure how much of it is the heat and how much is general panic, residual trauma seeping out through cracks Avery has no choice in revealing. He keeps Avery fed and drinking water, also monitoring the wide, tender scars where his small body has healed from that sick bastard’s attack.

That brittle routine is the only thing tethering Sascha to reality, as the rest of the time passes in a haze of pure carnality.

With Avery’s arms pinned above his head, both thin wrists fitting easily in one of Sascha’s hands, Sascha spears into him as hard as his exhausted body can manage. “I’m going to get you a vibrator,” he gasps, thrusting again, keeping his pace torturously slow. “A big one. The industrial kind”—he grunts with exertion—“like they use in porn.”

Avery hiccups, glassy eyes shifting to focus on Sascha’sface. “Industrial—fuck!” He tries again: “What the hell kind of porn areyouwatching?”

Sascha snaps his hips forward, smiling at how Avery’s gaze rolls back up toward the ceiling. “I’ll have to show you.”

“Right now?”

“Fuck no,” Sascha says on a breathless laugh. “Why would I need porn when— when I’ve got you right in front of me? You’re the sexiest, ngh, most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Razor focus cuts through Avery’s blissful expression. He puts a hand on Sascha’s chest, stilling him. Being pushed around stopped surprising Sascha after the first couple times, so he merely laughs as Avery lurches into motion, flipping him onto his back. Avery rubs against him, bruised lips working hungrily.

But then Avery leans back, expression serious, and says, “I’m going to blow you every morning for the rest of my life.” If he notices the way Sascha’s jaw goes slack, Avery doesn’t acknowledge it. He drops a kiss on Sascha’s chin and proceeds down the rest of his body, his destination obvious.

Sascha’s lips part in a quiet gasp when Avery fits his mouth around him, but his mind strays elsewhere, lingering on the sincerity with which Avery said, ‘for the rest of my life.’ It was a joke, probably. Definitely. Yet it cycles through Sascha’s thoughts, spinning into a whirlwind of emotion. Maybe it’s just because he’s never before met anyone he’d be willing to fuck for a full day and a half without getting bored. Maybe it’s because he’s never beenwantedthe way Avery clings and calls for him.

Maybe, Sascha thinks, as Avery wrenches a near-painfully dry orgasm out of him, he’d be happy to wake up with Avery every day for the rest of his life, whether or not blowjobs were involved.

The moment he can move his arms again, Sascha drags Avery on top of him, inserts his thigh between Avery’s legs,and kisses him like he has the antidote for every drop of self-deprecating poison Sascha has ever ingested. Avery whimpers and grinds down, riding Sascha’s thigh until he comes with a soft cry buried in Sascha’s mouth. Before drawing away, Avery flicks his tongue over Sascha’s philtrum, winning him a soft chuckle. He smiles weakly, then collapses against Sascha’s chest.

They don’t move for so long, Sascha wonders if Avery fell asleep, but before he can decide what to do about it, Avery uncurls, flopping sideways and stretching his wiry limbs. “I think…” He clears his throat. “I think it might be over.”

“Don’t jinx it.”

Avery smacks Sascha on the thigh. “No, I feel different now. Finally. Like you wrung the last bit out of me.”

“Really?” Sascha reaches his arms over his head, arching his back. “That’s great. I don’t think my dick could take anymore, even if you weren’t done. That last one was rough.”

When Avery doesn’t respond, Sascha turns to see his eyes closed, lips curved in a tiny smile. He strokes a few sticky curls back from Avery’s forehead, prompting him to roll, nestling into Sascha’s side. At last, Avery’s breath evens out, leaving Sascha to hold him while he sleeps.

They wake up dehydrated and sore.