swallowed in a kiss that made Fiora tingle down to his toes.
One of Deven’s hands slipped back between Fiora’s legs, and the other went for the bottle of bath oil, bypassing the soap entirely.
Fiora stopped even pretending to argue.
When Deven finally lifted Fiora’s hips and lowered him down onto his cock, Fiora couldn’t have argued if his whole hoard had been at stake.
“I missed this,” Deven said, his voice hoarse and low, and rocked his hips. “I missed you.” Another shift of his body, driving himself deeper. “I love you, Fi.” He lifted Fiora and let him sink down again, hard, and Fiora flailed, gripping his shoulders. “I love you so fucking much.”
Fiora spread his legs as much as he could given the contraints of the tub, rose up, and slammed himself down, with a great splash of water over the sides of the tub. Deven groaned, burying his face in Fiora’s neck.
“I promised to make you beg, and I still owe you that,” Fiora said.
Deven let out a shaky laugh. “Since we’re short on time, I won’t try to be strong. Please, Fiora. Make me come in you.”
A few more thrusts, and Fiora was so close his vision blurred, his cock rock-hard. Every motion rubbed it against Deven’s body; every motion pushed Deven’s cock against the perfect spot deep inside him.
“I love you too,” Fiora whispered as he fell over the edge, and Deven cried out, clutched him close, and spent.
Fiora leaned his forehead on Deven’s shoulder, closed his eyes, and let Deven hold him.
Lunch, his parents, and the rest of the world could wait.
Chapter Twenty-One
“It won’t be so bad,” Deven said bracingly as they made their way down the stairs. Fiora’s parents were holy terrors, certainly, but they weren’t really going to eat their only son’s lover — although if he walked into the dining room and found no meat on the table and the two elder dragons in their dragon bodies, Deven was going to run for it, his manly reputation be damned. “How bad can it be? They’re not happy, but believe me, they were a lot less happy last night. You looked better and better as you slept, and by early morning they’d relaxed a lot. Your mother only threatened to kill me twice between four and when they went downstairs for tea.”
Fiora’s hand tightened on Deven’s arm, and he frowned. “And now that they’re less worried, they’ll be free to focus on anger and threats,” Fiora said with a sigh. “You don’t know them the way I do. It’s going to be exhausting.”
Carefully helping Fiora around a sharp bend in the staircase — because while he was better, he was bloody well going to let Deven take care of him for a while — Deven said, “They won’t threaten you, they’ll threaten me. And frankly, I deserve it, and I can take it. Don’t worry about me.”
Fiora shot him a worried look from under his eyelashes. Oh, fuck, Fiora’s eyelashes. And his eyes. And his lips. And the rest of him. Deven lost himself in replaying the best parts of their bath, and only snapped back to reality on, “…afraid you’ll decide I’m not worth it. Deven, are you even listening to me?”
“Yes,” Deven lied. And then, “No,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.” He was never going to lie to Fiora again, dammit. Not even about something like this. “I was thinking about making love to you and lost the plot.”
“I suppose you didn’t sleep at all last night,” Fiora said grudgingly. “And I am very distracting. But did you hear any of it at all?”
“I didn’t sleep because I was devotedly sitting by your bedside holding your hand and gazing at your beautiful face,” Deven reminded him helpfully. Fiora grunted and turned away to hide his smile. Deven knew he was forgiven. “And I heard the important part. You’re worth anything at all, even lunch with your mother, and I’m not going anywhere, unless they actually try to make me the main course, and then I’ll hide out by the river for a few days and come back and sneak in through the kitchen.”
Fiora was laughing as they came around the corner and into the main hall. Deven was laughing too — but the laughter died on his lips as he saw his aunt and uncle stepping through the front doors at the other end of the hall, escorted by a harried-looking Andrei.
“Oh, buggering fuck,” he whispered.
They stopped dead, staring at the tableau. Lady