Page 129 of Vital Signs

Hunter's struggle was visible on his face. This went beyond just language. It was about reclaiming parts of himself, letting me into locked spaces.

Something shifted. His eyes met mine, desperate and completely surrendered.

"Lao gong," he gasped, the word torn from deep in his chest, from the place where language lived before thought. Raw and unfiltered, like his unconscious mind had bypassed every defense built since addiction stole his identity.

I stilled completely. The word hung between us, weighted with meaning I couldn't understand but could feel in my bones. It sounded like forever. Like home. Like the most important thing Hunter had ever said to me.

"What does that mean?" I asked, though my body already knew from the way he'd said it.

Hunter's face flushed deeper. "Husband," he whispered, the English word smaller somehow, inadequate for the weight of what had just passed between us.

"Say it again," I demanded, voice rough with emotion I hadn't expected. "In Chinese."

"Lao gong." This time deliberate, chosen. A gift instead of an accident. "My husband. Mine."

The possessiveness in his voice made something crack open in my chest. After Roche, I'd never imagined wanting to belong to anyone again. But this was Hunter, and everything about him was different.

"Husband," I repeated, tasting the English on my tongue.

I shifted on the bed, straddling his hips so my swollen cock rubbed against his shaft. The friction made us both groan.

"Does my husband want to come?" I continued grinding down against him. "Mon mari... you'll wake up in my bed every morning. I'll make you coffee and watch you drink it, knowing you're mine completely."

My rhythm was slow, torturous, as I painted the picture of our future. Hunter's hips bucked beneath me, trying to increase the friction, but I controlled the pace completely.

"We'll have a house, mon loup. Our house. You'll fuck me in every room until I can't walk anywhere without remembering how your cock felt inside me."

Hunter's breathing turned desperate, soft sounds escaping him as I built the fantasy and the pressure in equal measure.

"Please..." The word dissolved into Korean, then Mandarin, languages mixing as his control shattered.

I needed more. Needed him inside me. That raw, aching need buzzed beneath my skin as I shifted position, palms braced on his ribs while I slid up his body, the heat of him dragging along mine in a slow, deliberate climb. His hands followed, gripping my thighs hard enough to bruise as I settled on his chest, straddling him.

Then I moved higher.

I could see his pulse racing when I planted my knees on either side of his head, thighs flexing for balance as I positioned myself over his face. Every nerve ending burned, trembling with anticipation and power and something possessive, primal.

"Lick me," I said, my voice rough with command. "Get me ready for your cock."

Hunter didn't hesitate. His tongue flicked out slowly, testing and teasing at first, before he licked me like he meant to ruin me. Broad strokes gave way to sharp, focused pressure, each passcoaxing me open, dragging me higher. My fingers tangled in his hair, anchoring myself as I rocked into him, chasing the rhythm he gave like it was the only thing tethering me to the earth.

He devoured me.

And I let him.

"Say it again," I commanded. "Call me husband in your mother's language while you make me come."

"Lao gong," Hunter groaned against my body, the vibration sending shockwaves through me. "My beautiful husband... so fucking perfect..."

The mix of languages and his mouth on me pushed me over the edge. I came with a broken cry, my entire body convulsing. Hunter held me steady, tongue working me through every pulse.

When I could finally move again, I shifted back, sliding down his body until I was positioned over his hips. I wrapped my hand around his cock, positioning myself over the head.

"I need you inside me," I said. "Need my husband to fill me up."

Hunter's eyes rolled back as I sank down on him slowly, taking him inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. The stretch was perfect, just this side of too much.

"My husband feels so good," I purred, starting to move in slow circles. "So thick, so perfect inside me."