Chapter 1: First Night in Our Bed
The black silk sheets were cool against Apollo’s back, a stark contrast to the heat building under his skin. Fractured light from the string of fairy lights nailed haphazardly to the ceiling above the bed danced over the planes of his chest, his breathing already coming a little too fast. Jax loomed over him, a silhouette of sharp angles and dark intent, one knee settled between Apollo’s slender thighs.
“Look at you,” Jax murmured, his voice a low rasp that vibrated straight into Apollo’s core. He didn’t touch him yet, just let his gaze travel, heavy and possessive, from the flushed face with its spray of freckles, down the trembling column of his throat, to the eager arch of his hips. “All laid out for me. Like a fucking present.”
Apollo whimpered, the sound embarrassingly needy. He’d been hard since Jax had pushed him through the bedroom door, since those clever, tattooed hands had stripped him with a focused efficiency that left him dizzy. His platinum hair was fanned out, a messy halo against the dark silk. He felt exposed, worshiped, and utterly owned.
“Please,” Apollo breathed, his pale blue eyes wide.
“Please what?” Jax’s fingers finally made contact, not with his skin, but with the sheets beside Apollo’s hip, fisting the material. He leaned down, his jet-black hair falling to curtain them both. “Use your words, flower.”
“Touch me. Jax, just… god, just touch me.”
A smirk, sharp and beautiful, flickered across Jax’s mouth. He obeyed, but not where Apollo wanted it most. He pinned Apollo’s wrists above his head with one strong hand, the hold firm but not cruel. Apollo melted into the restraint, a sigh of pure relief escaping him. This was safety. This was the one place he didn’t have to think.
Jax’s free hand trailed down, fingertips sketching a blazing path from the inside of Apollo’s wrist, down his forearm, over the flutter of his pulse at his elbow. He moved with a painter’s deliberation, mapping territory. When his thumb brushed over a peaked nipple, Apollo jerked, a sharp gasp tearing from his throat.
“Sensitive,” Jax noted, his dark eyes almost black in the low light. He lowered his head, his breath hot. “Let’s see.”
His tongue, wet and rough, laved a slow, torturous circle around the tight bud before he closed his lips over it and sucked, hard. The sensation was a lightning bolt, searing and perfect, arcing straight to Apollo’s cock, which twitched against his stomach, leaving a damp smudge on his skin.
“Yours,” Apollo chanted, his head thrashing side to side. “All yours.”
Jax released the nipple with a soft pop, transferring his attention to the other, his teeth grazing just enough to make Apollo cry out. “Damn right you are.” He worked his way down Apollo’s torso, his tongue dipping into the shallow divot of his navel, his free hand now stroking the quivering skin of Apollo’s inner thigh, pushing his legs wider apart. “This new deal… this ‘just us’… It’s not a cage for you, is it?”
The question, layered with a rare vulnerability, made Apollo still. He looked down, meeting the fierce, uncertain gaze that looked up from his stomach. “It’s the opposite,” Apollo said, his voice cracking with sincerity. “It’s the fucking open field. It’s just you. No one else exists.”
Something raw and hungry flashed in Jax’s eyes. He surged back up, releasing Apollo’s wrists to frame his face instead, kissing him deep and filthy, all claiming tongue and shared breath. Apollo kissed back with everything he had, his fingers tangling in the ink-black hair, pulling him closer.
When Jax broke the kiss, they were both panting. “On your knees,” Jax commanded, his voice thick. “Now. Face the headboard.”
A shiver of pure anticipation wracked Apollo’s frame. He scrambled to obey, the silk slithering under his palms and knees. He heard the click of a cap, the wet sound of Jax slicking himself. Then Jax was behind him, a solid, hot presence. A hand, broad and demanding, settled on the small of Apollo’s back, pressing down until his ass was in the air, his cheek pressed to the sheets.
“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” Jax growled, his other hand rubbing the cool, slick head of his cock against Apollo’s entrance, spreading the lube, teasing. “All open for me. Taking everything I give you.”
“Give it to me,” Apollo begged, pushing back against the pressure. “I need it. I need you.”
Jax’s grip on his hip tightened, his fingers biting into the flesh. He didn’t thrust. He pushed, a slow, relentless, inch-by-inch invasion that stole the air from Apollo’s lungs. Apollo’s mouth fell open in a silent scream, his knuckles white where they gripped the sheets. It was a stretch, a burn, a perfect, soul-deep fullness that made his vision sparkle at the edges.
“Fuck,” Jax hissed, bottoming out, his hips flush against Apollo’s ass. He went still, trembling with the effort of control. “Christ, Apollo. You’re so tight. You feel… you feel like mine.”
“I am,” Apollo sobbed, the words muffled by the sheets. “I am, I am, I am.”
Jax pulled back almost all the way and slammed home.
The rhythm was brutal from the start, a driving, piston-hard pace that shook the bedframe, that pushed Apollo up the sheets with every thrust. Jax leaned over him, his chest slick with sweat against Apollo’s back, his mouth at Apollo’s ear. The filthy praise was a constant, hoarse stream.
“That’s it, take it. You were made for this, for my cock. Your pretty little hole is sucking me right in, god, fucking perfect.”
Apollo was incoherent, reduced to a writhing, pleading thing of pure sensation. Each slam dragged over that spot inside him, lighting up his nerves, building a coil of white-hot pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. He reached a hand between his own legs, stroking his leaking cock in time with Jax’s punishing rhythm.
“Don’t you dare,” Jax snarled, smacking his hand away. “You come when I tell you to. Not a second before.”
The denial was its own sweet agony. Apollo wailed, his body trembling on a knife’s edge. Jax’s pace became erratic, his breaths coming in ragged grunts against Apollo’s neck. One hand fisted in Apollo’s blond curls, pulling his head back. The other snaked around his hip, taking Apollo’s cock in a tight, ruthless grip.
“Now,” Jax commanded, his voice guttural, his thrusts becoming shallow, frantic jerks. “Come for me. Now, Apollo.”
It was the permission, the raw ownership in the tone, that shattered him. Apollo came with a broken shout, his orgasm ripping through him like a storm, stripes of white painting the black sheets as his body clamped down around Jax in violent pulses.
The sensation tipped Jax over the edge. He drove in one last, deep time, burying himself to the hilt with a choked-off roar, his release flooding Apollo, hot and endless. He collapsed forward, his weight a welcome anchor, his face buried in the sweaty junction of Apollo’s neck and shoulder.
For long minutes, the only sounds were their ragged breaths and the distant hum of the city outside. Slowly, carefully, Jax pulled out and rolled them onto their sides, pulling Apollo’s ravaged, boneless body back against his chest. He nuzzled into the damp hair, placing a soft, unexpected kiss behind Apollo’s ear.
Apollo trembled, aftershocks still whispering through him. He tangled their fingers together over his stomach, feeling the rapid, slowing beat of Jax’s heart against his spine.
Jax’s voice, when it came, was quiet, stripped bare. “I’ve never been scared of losing someone before.” He pressed another kiss to Apollo’s shoulder. “It’s fucking terrifying.”
Apollo held their entwined hands tighter, watching the fairy lights blur into starry smears above them. He had no words big enough, so he settled for the truth, simple and clean. “You won’t.”
“You won’t.”
The words hung in the air, simple and absolute, and Jax felt them settle in his bones. For a second, the terror receded, replaced by a wave of something so fierce it tightened his throat. He buried his face deeper into Apollo’s neck, inhaling the scent of sex and their shared sweat, something uniquely them.
They lay tangled until their breathing evened out, until the sweat cooled on their skin. Jax traced idle patterns on Apollo’s hip, over the faint red marks his fingers had left. A quiet possessive thrill shot through him. His marks. On his skin.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Apollo mumbled, his voice drowsy. He wriggled back, pressing his ass more firmly against Jax’s groin. A soft, teasing grind. “I can hear the gears grinding from here.”
Jax nipped his shoulder. “Smartass.” But the spark was already re-igniting, a low ember fanned by Apollo’s movement, by the incredible feel of his body, soft and pliant and here. The commitment, the monogamy—it wasn’t a cage. It was a catalyst. It made every touch feel weighted, significant. Like he was allowed to want this, all of this, forever.
He slid his hand from Apollo’s hip around to the front, cupping him. Apollo was already half-hard again, filling out beautifully in his palm. Jax stroked him, slow and firm, feeling Apollo shudder against him.
“You’re insatiable,” Jax murmured, his lips against Apollo’s ear.
“For you?” Apollo gasped, pushing into the touch. “Yeah. Always for you. It’s… it’s different now. It’s like I can feel it all the way through me. No walls.”
That did it. The last of Jax’s restraint, already threadbare, snapped. He wanted to brand that feeling into Apollo’s skin, into his soul. He wanted to own it, to be the only cause of it.
“Get up,” Jax said, his voice dropping into that gravelly register that made Apollo’s eyes go dark.
“What?”
“Up. On your feet. Now.”
There was no disobedience. Apollo, with a look of confused arousal, untangled himself and stood beside the bed. The fairy lights caught the gleam of lube and come on his inner thighs, the trembling in his legs. He looked beautifully wrecked. Jax sat up on the edge of the bed, his own renewed erection heavy between his legs. He looked Apollo up and down, a slow, scorching appraisal.
“Turn around.”
Apollo turned, presenting the view of his back, the elegant line of his spine, the perfect curve of his ass, still flushed and bearing the faint imprint of Jax’s hands. Jax’s mouth went dry.
“Come here.”
Apollo took a step back toward him. Jax reached out, his hand not gentle now, and guided Apollo down—not onto the bed, but across his lap. Apollo gasped as his stomach settled over Jax’s thighs, his ass positioned high, vulnerable. The position was one of utter surrender, of childhood punishment twisted into something dark and intimate. Jax’s hand rested on the warm, smooth skin of Apollo’s right cheek.
“This,” Jax said, his voice quiet and intense. “This is what’s mine. Isn’t it?”
Apollo was breathless, his face turned to the side, his cheek pressed against the rumpled silk. “Yes.”
“I don’t think you’re convinced.” Jax brought his hand down in a sharp, crisp slap.
The sound echoed in the quiet room. Apollo jolted, a shocked cry escaping him. A bright pink handprint bloomed instantly on the pale skin. The sting was sharp, clean, mixing with the deep, lingering ache from before.
“Who does this belong to?” Jax asked, rubbing the heated skin.
“You!” Apollo gasped.
Another slap, on the other cheek. Harder. Apollo yelped, his back arching, his fingers clawing at the sheets.
“Say it again.”
“It’s yours! Jax, it’s yours!”
Jax spanked him again, and again, not in a frantic rhythm, but with deliberate, measured blows, alternating cheeks, painting the pale skin a deeper, angrier red. Each impact was a claim, a punctuation mark. Apollo was writhing over his lap, not in pain, but in a frenzy of overwhelmed sensation. His cries weren’t protests; they were fervent, broken affirmations.
“Yours, yours, god, please, I’m yours!”
“Every part,” Jax growled, landing a final, searing swat right where thigh met ass. “This tight, perfect hole that takes my cock so good?” He pressed a thumb against Apollo’s entrance, making him sob. “Mine. This sweet, trembling skin?” He smoothed a palm over the scorching heat. “Mine. These sounds you make?” He spanked him once more, a lighter, teasing tap. “All fucking mine.”
Apollo was trembling violently, tears streaking his face, his cock hard and leaking against Jax’s thigh. “Yes! All of it! I promise, Jax, I promise it’s all yours. No one else. Never anyone else.”
The raw, desperate vow undid Jax completely. The performance of ownership melted into a truth so profound it felt like vertigo. He stopped, his own hand stinging. He gently turned Apollo over, pulling him up so he was straddling Jax’s lap, facing him. Apollo’s face was a mess of tears and desperate need, his blue eyes blazing with trust.
Jax cupped his face, wiping at the tears with his thumbs. “And you have me,” Jax said, the words raw, torn from a place he rarely showed. “You own every fucked-up, jealous, possessive inch of me. You own the part that’s scared. You own the part that wants to lock the door and keep you here forever. You own this.” He took Apollo’s hand and pressed it over his own heart, which was hammering against his ribs. “It only beats for you. I swear it. I am yours, Apollo. Completely.”
It was Apollo who kissed him then, a kiss that tasted of salt and desperation and profound relief. It was messy and perfect. Apollo ground down onto Jax’s erection, their bodies slotting together seamlessly.
“Need you inside me,” Apollo panted against his mouth. “Right now. Need to feel it while you say it.”
Jax didn’t need telling twice. He fumbled for the lube on the nightstand, coating himself hastily, his hands uncharacteristically clumsy. He guided Apollo up, and then down, Apollo sinking onto him in one smooth, practiced slide. They both cried out, the joining feeling more intense than before, layered now with the emotional cataract they’d just unleashed.
Apollo braced his hands on Jax’s shoulders, his head thrown back, his body glowing under the fairy lights, the red marks on his ass a vivid contrast. He began to move, setting a deep, rolling rhythm that stole Jax’s breath.
“Say it again,” Apollo demanded, his voice husky, his eyes locked on Jax’s. “Tell me who you belong to.”
Jax gripped his hips, helping him move. “You. Fuck. Only you, Apollo. I’m yours.”
“And this?” Apollo slammed down harder, taking Jax impossibly deep. “Who owns this?”
“You do!” Jax groaned, his head falling back. “You own my cock, you own every fucking thought in my head. You own me.”
The mutual possession was a feedback loop, a circuit of escalating need. Apollo leaned forward, capturing Jax’s lips again, swallowing his groans. Jax’s hands were everywhere—gripping his battered ass, sliding up his sweaty back, tangling in his blond curls. He thrust up to meet every downward stroke, the bed creaking beneath them.
“I’m gonna come,” Apollo whimpered, his rhythm faltering. “Jax, I can’t— it’s too much.”
“Look at me.” Jax’s command was ragged. Apollo’s glazed eyes found his. “We come together. Right now. You feel me fill you up, and you remember it’s only ever gonna be me. You promise.”
“I promise,” Apollo sobbed. “I promise, I promise, I—”
Jax’s orgasm ripped through him, a tidal wave that blurred his vision. He held Apollo down hard onto him as he pulsed, pouring himself deep, a physical claim to match the verbal ones. The feel of it, the heat, triggered Apollo’s own release. He came between their sweat-slicked stomachs with a shattered cry, his body clamping around Jax in rhythmic pulses, milking him dry.
They collapsed together sideways onto the bed, a heap of spent limbs and shuddering breath. Jax was still buried inside him, loath to separate, to break the connection. Apollo nuzzled into his chest, his tears now quiet, exhausted.
The room smelled of sex and sweat and salt. The fairy lights twinkled, indifferent witnesses to the pact sealed in that tangled nest of black silk.
After a long while, Apollo spoke, his voice a husk of itself. “My shop gets deliveries on Tuesdays. Big ones. I’m always sore by noon.”
Jax understood. A mundane detail offered as collateral, a piece of his daily life handed over. “I have client presentations every other Thursday,” Jax said into his hair. “I get mean. I hate everyone except you.”
Apollo’s smile was faint against Jax’s skin. “I’ll make you tea. The obnoxiously floral kind you pretend to hate.”
“And I’ll drink every fucking cup.” Jax finally, reluctantly, pulled out. He reached for a discarded t-shirt, gently cleaning Apollo up, then himself. He pulled the ruined top sheet loose and kicked it to the floor, then drew the comforter over them, pulling Apollo tightly into the shelter of his body.
The terror was still there, a cold little stone in his gut. But Apollo’s promise was a warmth wrapped around it. His. And he was Apollo’s. The deal was done. It wasn’t just words shouted in passion. It was a quiet agreement whispered in the aftermath, woven into the fabric of flower deliveries and client meetings.
Apollo was already slipping into sleep, his breathing deepening. Jax watched the lights play over his face, the peaceful set of his mouth. He pressed his lips to Apollo’s forehead.
Outside, a car door slammed. The world kept turning. But in this room, in this bed, something new and fragile and ferocious had clicked into place. It felt less like the end of a chapter and more like a first, solid line drawn on a blank page. Everything else would have to write itself around that line. Around them.
Jax closed his eyes, one hand splayed possessively over Apollo’s heart, and followed him down into the dark.
Jax closed his eyes, one hand splayed possessively over Apollo’s heart, and followed him down into the dark.
Sleep was a shallow, fitful thing. It wasn't the usual post-coital crash. His body was drained, every muscle humming with a pleasant ache, but his mind wouldn’t switch off. It kept looping, a broken record of sensation and sound: the slap of skin, the red bloom on pale flesh, the raw, shattered way Apollo had said, “Yours.” The word had texture. It had weight. It felt like a key turning in a lock he didn’t know he’d shut.
He dozed, maybe for an hour, maybe twenty minutes. The room was still dark, the fairy lights now just faint embers. Apollo was a warm, dead weight against him, breathing deep and even. Jax’s own body had other ideas. The exhaustion was there, a thick blanket, but beneath it, a low, insistent thrum had started up again. A restless energy. A need to verify, to confirm, to brand.
It was more than physical. The thought that this was real, that Apollo had truly given him not just his body but his unwavering, romantic heart—it was fucking terrifying. It was also the most potent aphrodisiac he’d ever encountered. The fear and the desire were braided together, a double helix of obsession. He couldn’t just sleep on it. Not yet.
He shifted, his half-hard cock already stirring against Apollo’s thigh. He nuzzled into the blond hair, inhaling the scent of sex and sleep. “Apollo,” he murmured, his voice gravelly with disuse.
A soft, incoherent mumble was the only reply.
Jax slid his hand from Apollo’s chest down the sleek plane of his stomach, fingertips dipping below the line of the comforter. He found him soft, spent, vulnerable. He wrapped his hand around him, not to stimulate, just to hold. A quiet claim. Apollo sighed in his sleep, a contented sound, and pressed back instinctively into Jax’s body.
That tiny, trusting movement was the final straw. Jax’s cock went from half-mast to fully, painfully hard in seconds. The ache was profound, a deep, throbbing need that felt centered in his chest as much as his groin. He needed to be inside him again. Not for a frantic, screaming finish, but for something slower, more absolute. A sacrament.
“Hey.” He shook Apollo gently, then not so gently. “Wake up.”
Apollo blinked, disoriented, his pale blue eyes cloudy with sleep. “Wha…? Jax? ’S wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Jax pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I’m not done with you yet.”
A slow, drowsy smile spread across Apollo’s face. He stretched, a languid, cat-like movement that made the comforter slip down to his waist. “You’re insatiable.”
“Yeah.” Jax’s admission was stark. He propped himself up on an elbow, looking down at Apollo’s sleep-soft face. The words felt too big, too clumsy, but they pushed their way out. “I can’t get it out of my head. What you said. What we said. Someone… fuck, Apollo, someone actually has my heart now. You. You have it. And you love me back. You really fucking do.”
The sleepiness vanished from Apollo’s eyes, replaced by a clear, sober intensity. He reached up, his fingers tracing the sharp line of Jax’s jaw. “I really fucking do.”
“It scares the shit out of me,” Jax whispered, the confession leaving him exposed. “And it makes me so hard I can’t think straight.” He guided Apollo’s hand under the comforter, pressing it against his erection. “Feel that? That’s yours. That’s what you do to me. Just by existing. By being mine.”
Apollo’s fingers closed around him, a soft, knowing grip. “I love that I do that to you.”
“I need to seal the deal.” Jax’s voice dropped, taking on that dominant edge that made Apollo’s breath catch. It wasn’t a performance now. It was a solemn request. “I need to own you again. Right now. All the way. I need to feel you give it to me, and I need you to feel me take it. I need it to hurt a little. I need you to remember it tomorrow when you’re bending over those fucking flower buckets.”
He threw the comforter back. The cool air hit their heated skin. He got out of bed, his body a pale, tattooed sculpture in the dark, and held out his hand. “Come on.”
Apollo took it, letting Jax pull him to his feet. He was unsteady, legs still rubbery, his own arousal beginning to spark back to life simply from the force of Jax’s need. Jax led him back to the foot of the bed. He turned him, facing the rumpled black silk, and placed a firm hand between his shoulder blades.
“Forward,” Jax said, quiet and firm.
Apollo understood. He bent at the waist, bracing his forearms on the mattress, presenting himself. The position was submissive, offering, but there was no hesitation in his posture. His back curved, his ass lifted in silent invitation. The faint, rosy blush from Jax’s handiwork was still visible on his skin in the dim light.
Jax stared, his throat tight. This view. This trust. It was everything. He ran a hand over the swell of one cheek, feeling the residual warmth, then down the tender inner thigh. “This is the deal,” he said, his voice rough. “My heart for your ass. Seems like a fair trade.”
Apollo laughed, a breathless, choked sound. “You’re such a romantic.”
“Shut up.” Jax said it without heat. He reached for the lube on the floor, slicking himself with a few brutal strokes. He was already leaking, the tip flushed and dark. He didn’t tease. He positioned himself, the head of his cock nudging against Apollo’s entrance, which was still loose and sensitive from their earlier rounds.
He pushed in with one long, slow, inexorable stroke.
Apollo gasped, his back arching, his fingers clawing into the sheets. It was a deep, filling stretch, a burning reminder. Jax didn’t move, sheathed to the hilt, letting them both adjust to the overwhelming fullness, the profound rightness of the connection.
“You feel that?” Jax growled, his hands settling on Apollo’s hips, his thumbs digging into the dimples at the base of his spine. “That’s me. That’s my claim. That’s the seal. From now on, this perfect fucking ass answers to me. It takes what I give it. It belongs to me.”
“Yes,” Apollo whimpered, pushing back against him.
Jax began to move. It wasn’t the frantic, driving pace of before. This was slower, deeper, more deliberate. Each withdrawal was almost complete, each thrust a thorough, soul-reaching possession. The sound was wet, intimate, obscene. The bed rocked with a rhythmic, steady creak. Jax set a pace that was punishing in its depth but controlled in its rhythm. It was hard, but it was loving. Every slam home was a punctuation mark on his vow.
He leaned over Apollo’s back, not quite covering him, his chest hovering just above the sweat-slicked skin. He slid one hand around Apollo’s hip, finding his cock, which was fully hard again, drooling onto the sheets below. He matched the rhythm of his thrusts with the strokes of his hand, a coordinated assault on Apollo’s senses.
“You’re taking me so deep, flower,” Jax rasped into his ear. “Your body is made for me. It was always waiting for me. This tight, hot fucking sheath… Christ, Apollo, it’s swallowing me whole.”
Apollo was beyond words. His sounds were a continuous, ragged stream of moans and fractured pleas. Tears welled in his eyes, from the intensity, from the overwhelming emotional onslaught paired with the physical violation. He was being unmade, rebuilt in real time, each thrust rewriting his cellular structure to include Jax as a fundamental element.
Jax saw the tears glistening on Apollo’s cheeks in the faint light. The sight sent a fresh, almost violent wave of tenderness through him. He shifted his weight, driving in at a slightly different angle, one that made Apollo shout, his body bowing sharply. With his free hand, the one not working Apollo’s cock, he reached around and cupped Apollo’s face, his thumb brushing the tear tracks.
“Don’t cry,” Jax whispered, though his own voice was thick. He turned Apollo’s face toward him, just enough, and leaned down. He caught a tear with the tip of his tongue, tasting salt. He licked the track clean, from the corner of his eye down to his jaw. It was an act of startling intimacy, of care amidst the rough possession. “I’ve got you. I’m right here. And I’m never letting go.”
The combination—the deep, owning thrusts, the firm hand on his cock, the gentle,舔舐 of his tears—shattered Apollo completely. His orgasm built not as a climb, but as a sudden detonation. It ripped through him silently for a second, his mouth open in a soundless scream, before the sounds broke free—raw, guttural sobs as he came over Jax’s hand and onto the sheets, his channel clamping down on Jax’s cock in vicious, milking pulses.
The sensation was too much. Jax’s control snapped. He drove in once, twice, three more times, so deep he saw stars, and then he was coming, a hot, endless flood, his own cry muffled against Apollo’s shoulder blade. He pulsed inside him, marking him internally, a final, liquid claim in the dark.
They collapsed forward together, a heap of trembling limbs. Jax was careful not to crush him, rolling them slightly to the side, still buried inside, unwilling to break the connection. They lay like that for long minutes, hearts hammering in unison, skin slick and cooling.
Slowly, gently, Jax pulled out. Apollo made a small, bereft sound at the loss. Jax hushed him. “Move up,” he murmured. “Lie back.”
Apollo, boneless and pliant, did as he was told, scooting up the bed until his head hit the pillows. He looked wrecked and beautiful, tears drying on his cheeks, his eyes closed. Jax knelt between his legs, looking at the evidence of their union glistening on his own softening cock and on Apollo’s used, reddened entrance.
Without a word, Apollo seemed to sense what he needed. He opened his heavy-lidded eyes and looked down. Understanding flickered there. He reached out, his hand trembling, and guided Jax closer.
“Let me,” Apollo whispered, his voice hoarse. “Let me take care of you.”
Jax let himself be guided. Apollo’s mouth, when it took him in, was warm and impossibly soft. There was no urgency, no goal. This was ritual. Apollo cleaned him with slow, devoted laps of his tongue, swallowing the mixed taste of their sex, his eyes locked on Jax’s the entire time. It was an act of service, of worship, of perfect reciprocity.
When he was clean, Apollo didn’t let him go immediately. He held him in his mouth, just resting there, a final, soft embrace. Then he released him with a soft kiss to the tip. “I will take care of you,” Apollo said, the words a solemn vow in the quiet room. “Until the end of time. In whatever way you want. Whenever you want. As many times as you want. You own me, Jax. And I own you. That means I take care of what’s mine.”
Jax felt something crack open in his chest. He crawled up the bed and gathered Apollo into his arms, holding him so tightly he worried for a second he might be hurting him. Apollo just clung back, his face buried in Jax’s neck.
They lay in silence, the first grey hints of dawn seeping around the edges of the blackout curtain. The world was beginning to wake up. The spell of the night was retreating, but the pact felt solid, real, etched into their skin and sinew.
After a long while, Apollo shifted. He traced a random tattoo on Jax’s bicep. A slow, sly smile touched his swollen lips. “So…” he began, his tone light, teasing. “You think we’re done? Or… you wanna go again?” He glanced up, his blue eyes sparkling with exhausted mischief. “I don’t think this is gonna fade, you know. This… thing between us. This hunger. I think we might be stuck with it. Permanently.”
Jax looked down at him. At the man who held his terrifying, fragile heart. The man whose ass was currently pink and sore from his claim. The man who was his.
A slow smirk spread across Jax’s face. He leaned in, capturing Apollo’s mouth in a deep, lingering kiss. He bit softly on Apollo’s lower lip, a gentle nip of possession, before soothing it with his tongue. He gave him one last, firm kiss, then pulled back.
“Okay,” Jax said, his voice finally sounding normal, grounded, touched with morning gravel and warm affection. “Now let’s head down for breakfast.”
He swung his legs out of bed and stood, pulling Apollo up after him. He gave him a gentle swat on the ass, nodding toward the bedroom door. “You first.”
Apollo laughed, a real, clear sound, and obeyed, walking naked toward the door. Jax followed, his eyes fixed on the sway of Apollo’s steps, on the gentle shift of muscle, on the faint, glowing marks on his skin. He watched the cute ass, his ass, walk ahead of him, leading the way down into the soft light of a new day.