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Gasping, I slump on top of him.

“Ezra, be careful!” he exclaims, going completely still.

“’S okay, babe,” I mumble into his smooth chest. “See?”

I reach up and yank the quick-release end of the rope wrapped around the bed frame. Lysander lifts his hands into view. His claws are gone. His spikes have retracted. He gapes.

“How did you know it would work?”

I roll off him, careful not to land on his wing, wincing as his cock slips out of me. “You were stuck because your body still thought I was in danger. I thought of the best way to show you how safe and unhurt I am.” I prop myself up. “I could fuck through emotional or physical pain. I think most dudes could. But getting fucked? I need to feel completely safe. The rest was just… reading you.”

Lysander stares at me. “Wow.”

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re easy to read.” I push a strand of damp hair out of his face.

“No one’s ever told me I’m easy to read.” Lysander struggles to sit up with his bound arms. Come runs down his belly, not to mention the glistening wet patch around his cock, which is slowly retracting. Even his hair is a mess. He looks thoroughly debauched. Delicious.

I reach for his arms to untie them, not totally confident they should stay bound much longer. I’m not an expert by any means, and Bear gave me the whole rundown about how to play during sex — in a word,carefully— so I’m not about to break his trust. Or Lysander’s.

“That’s what caring about someone is about,” I tell him, busying my hands so I don’t have to look him in the eye. My body twitches. Bottoming is a cake walk compared to this.

He’s silent, letting me move him this way and that. When I’m done I tidy up the rope and lean over to leave it in his bedside drawer.

“Ouch,” I hiss at the sudden ache in my ass.

“Stay here,” Lysander orders firmly, getting off the bed. I watch the sway of his ass appreciatively as he disappears into the bathroom.

He comes back with a warm washcloth. I expect him to clean the mess off my stomach — and his — but instead, he sits next to me.

“Lie back,” he says, then he lifts my leg in an uncomfortably intimate way and wipes his come and lube off my ass.

I can feel my face flame at how exposed my asshole is right now — a little too open for my comfort. But Lysander doesn’t do anything except clean me thoroughly, his pale brow furrowed in concentration. He leans in and presses a kiss right on my balls before letting my leg fall. It’s kind of sweet that he finds them so interesting, honestly.

“Next time, I could tie your legs up,” I suggest. “I think it would be pretty hot to finger when you can’t squirm around.”

Lysander narrows his eyes at me. “I think I’m starting to readyou, Ezra Pine. You were thoughtful and kind just now, and you can’t make me forget it by offering sexual favors.”

“Yeah, I thoughtfully rode your dick into the sunset,” I mutter, face still blazing.

“Exactly.” Lysander leaves the washcloth in a heap next to the lamp and drags the tattered duvet over us. He curls so his wings are in my face and I have an armful of him, heavy and warm. For some reason, his normally perfect scent tickles my nose and I sneeze.

A moment later, I sneeze again.

Lysander turns around. “Are you okay?”

I sniffle. “It’s all the fresh air and excitement.”

He huffs with laughter. “Fairies don’t sneeze at all, you know.”

“Must be nice.” I manhandle him back into the little spoon position and his huff turns into a yelp. “Achoo!”

The last one takes me by surprise, climbing to a register I didn’t know I could achieve. My butt clenches. I wince.

“Ow,” he breathes, his ear twitching.

“Sorry, sweets. Don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I mutter.

“Absolutely nothing.” Lysander tucks himself closer.