Page 26 of The Sterling Acquisition (Manufactured Mates #1)

“You smell like sex and defiance and everything I want to corrupt.” Dante’s other hand moved to Orion’s throat, not squeezing but just resting there. “You smell like you’re ready for me to spread you open and make you scream my name.”

Orion’s pulse jumped under his fingers, but his expression remained stubborn. “Big talk for someone who’s shaking.”

Dante looked down and realized Orion was right—his hands were trembling with the effort of restraint, the back of his neck glowed with heat up to his ears, and his pants had been at half-mast for at least ten minutes. “That’s your fault,” he said roughly.

“Bullshit.”

That was the final straw. Before Orion could react, Dante was moving, pinning him back against the bed with enough force to make him gasp.

The position pressed them together from chest to hip, and Dante could feel Orion’s response—the sharp intake of breath, the way his body went pliant for just a moment before tensing again.

“Feel that?” Dante ground his hips forward, letting Orion feel how aroused he was. “That’s what you do to me. That’s what happens when you push. ”

Orion’s eyes were wide, his breathing uneven. “I’ll bite your fucking nose off if you try something again.”

For a moment, Dante considered all the things he could do. All the ways he could make Orion fall apart, all the sounds he could draw from those lips, all the ways he could claim what they both knew he wanted.

Instead, he decided on something different.

“Kiss me,” he said.

Orion blinked, taken aback by the request. “What?”

“You heard me. Kiss me.”

“No.” The response was automatic, defensive.

Dante feigned a pout. “I’ve had your delicious cock in my mouth, and you won’t give me a kiss?”

The crude reminder made Orion flush deeper, his scent spiking with embarrassment and arousal. “That’s different.”

“How?”

“It just is.”

“Scared?” Dante’s voice was teasing, challenging.

“Of kissing you? Hardly. I just don’t want my first kiss to be with some Gensyn corporate thug.”

The words hit Dante in his chest. First kiss . He was a virgin in every sense, then—not just sexually, but in all the small intimacies that most people took for granted. The revelation made something possessive and protective in equal measure bubble up like an ache.

“Your first kiss,” he repeated.

“Don’t make it weird,” Orion snapped, but Dante could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the way he was trying to hide behind aggression.

“Not weird. Just...” Dante studied his face, seeing him differently now. “Important.”

“It’s not important. It’s just a kiss. ”

“No,” Dante said firmly. “It’s not just anything. Not when it’s your first.”

He could see Orion processing that response, not expecting the sudden shift to gentleness. “It’s not.”

“Then prove it.” Dante waited.

Orion stared up at him for a long moment, looking torn between stubbornness and curiosity. Finally, with obvious reluctance and a hint of nervousness he was trying to hide, he lifted his head.

Dante met his lips and felt something shift, not just between them, but like the very foundations of the Earth clicked into place.

The kiss started hesitant, inexperienced—the careful, uncertain touch of someone who’d never done this before.

Orion made a small sound of surprise, like a sigh against Dante’s lips, and suddenly he was pressing closer, his lips parting quickly, like he was trying to figure out what to do with his mouth.

Dante expected resistance, maybe a quick, defiant peck. He hadn’t expected this. Orion kissed like he was trying to memorize the sensation with small, confused sounds he made as he discovered what kissing felt like. His hands twisted in Dante’s shirt like he was afraid of drowning.

It was unpolished, unpracticed, and absolutely devastating.

When they broke apart, Orion looked undone—pupils blown wide, lips swollen, breathing uneven. There was wonder in his expression, mixed with something that might have been panic. His entire worldview seemed to be recalibrating.

“That was...” Orion started, then stopped, struggling to process what had just happened.

His fingers touched his lips in disbelief, as if trying to capture the sensation before it faded.

The gesture carried a vulnerability that all his previous defiance had never revealed—a glimpse of the person beneath the fighter.

“What have you done to me?” The question was soft, more to himself than to Dante, carrying equal parts accusation and wonder.

“Your first,” Dante said softly, unable to keep the satisfaction out of his voice. “And you were perfect.”

Fear flickered across Orion’s expression—not fear of Dante, but of something deeper. For some reason, despite that flicker, Orion’s response was to try to pull him down for another kiss,

Dante pulled back with a knowing smile, watching the conflict play out across Orion’s face. “Greedy,” he observed, enjoying the frustrated sound Orion made. “Already addicted?”

“Shut up,” Orion breathed, but there was no real heat in it—just confusion and want.

“We have planning to finish,” Dante said, straightening his clothes though his hands weren’t steady. “And you need to save some energy for being Leo’s perfect pet tonight.”

“Bastard,” Orion said, but his voice was soft, distracted. He was touching his own lips again with wondering fingers, like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

“Remember that feeling,” Dante said, adopting his professional demeanor again. “Your first kiss. Remember how it felt, how much you wanted more. It’ll give you something to think about while you’re playing compliant for Leo.”

The sound of Leo’s footsteps in the hallway made them both freeze. Orion quickly grabbed his book while Dante settled back into the chair, both of them trying to look like they’d been focused on psychological consultation rather than Dante claiming Orion’s first kiss like a conquering flag.

When Leo knocked and entered, he found them in their respective positions—Dante looking professionally composed despite the triumph singing in his veins, Orion appearing focused on his book despite the obvious flush on his cheeks and the way he kept touching his lips.

“How did the session go?” Leo asked hopefully.

“Very productive,” Dante replied, noting how Orion seemed dazed, distracted. “We’re making excellent progress on mapping his psychological responses to new stimuli.”

“That’s wonderful to hear. The improvement in his behavior has been remarkable.”

“I think we’ll see continued progress over the next few days,” Dante said, standing to leave. “The intensive consultation approach seems to be what he needed.”

As he prepared to go, Dante caught Orion’s eye one last time. The defiance was still there, but now it was mixed with confusion, wonder, and unmistakable want.

Good. Let him process that. Let him realize that his first kiss belongs to me now, and wonder what other firsts he might be willing to let me claim.

Two more days until the extraction.

The extraction plan depended on clear heads and perfect timing.

But Dante had just claimed Orion’s first kiss, awakening needs that would make both increasingly scarce.

As he left the apartment, the taste of Orion still on his lips, Dante wondered which would prove more dangerous to their survival—Morrison’s project or the hunger they’d just unleashed in each other. Either way, the clock was ticking.