Chapter 26: The Ascent
The challenge in Taichi’s eyes was the spark. Yamato’s control snapped.
He closed the hair’s breadth between their mouths, his kiss not an invitation but a claiming. It was all heat and sudden, desperate pressure, his lips slanting over Taichi’s with a hunger that stole the omega’s breath. Taichi gasped against him, a soft, surprised sound swallowed by the alpha’s mouth. For a second, his hands came up, fingers splaying against the cold, damp metal of Yamato’s chestplate, not to push away, but to brace.Then he answered.
His lips moved, opening under Yamato’s, and the kiss deepened from a collision into a conversation. A hot, slick, tasting conversation. Yamato’s tongue swept against his, and Taichi met it with his own, a bold, clumsy counterstroke that drew a low groan from deep in the alpha’s throat. The hands on Taichi’s hips slid around to the small of his back, pressing him closer, until Taichi could feel every unforgiving ridge of the armor and, beneath that, the hard, eager heat of the man wearing it.
Yamato’s mouth traveled from Taichi’s lips to his jaw, down the straining column of his throat, nuzzling at the spot where his scent pooled warm and potent. Taichi’s head fell back, a shudder wracking him.His fingers tangled in Yamato’s damp golden hair, gripping tight.
“Taichi,” Yamato breathed against his skin, his voice ragged, fraying at the edges. His hands roamed Taichi’s back, tracing the muscles under his tunic, mapping him with a reverence that felt like possession. He pulled back just enough to look at him, his blue eyes dark as a storm sea, wide with a vulnerability he never showed in the light of day. “Don’t ask me to stop.” The plea was raw, stripped bare. “Not again.”
Taichi’s chest heaved. His cheeks were flaming, his whole body humming with a current he’d only ever theorized about. He saw the desperation in Yamato’s gaze, the fear of being denied, and a fierce, protective ache bloomed alongside the desire. This proud, scarred knight was asking, not taking.He swallowed, his throat dry. “I wasn’t going to,” he muttered, the words scratchy. He forced his eyes up, meeting Yamato’s desperate gaze. The defiance was still there, but it had softened, melted at the edges into something else.“I was going to say… we should go up to my room. The metal’s… cold.”
A flicker of pure, unguarded surprise crossed Yamato’s face, followed immediately by a wave of raw, hungry triumph. It was the most beautiful thing Taichi had ever seen.In one smooth, powerful motion, Yamato stood, taking Taichi with him. He was braced for it this time, but the ease of it, the sheer strength, was still dizzying. One arm hooked under his knees, the other cradled his back, holding him against the broad expanse of chestplate. Taichi’s arms instinctively looped around Yamato’s neck, holding on. He turned his face, pressing it into the juncture of Yamato’s shoulder and neck, inhaling deeply. Rain, steel, leather, and beneath it all, the alpha’s own scent—clean, sharp like pine, and now layered with a deepening, spicy musk of desire.
Yamato carried him across the tavern floor, past the dark, silent bar, toward the narrow, steep staircase in the back corner that led to Taichi’s private quarters. Each step was firm, certain. The world reduced to the rhythmic creak of the stairs under Yamato’s boots, the feel of his heartbeat against Taichi’s side, the warm puff of his breath against Taichi’s temple.
At the top of the stairs was a simple door, worn smooth by use. Yamato shouldered it open without breaking stride, crossing the threshold into Taichi’s sanctuary.The room was small, dominated by a large bed piled with a thick quilt. The air smelled like Taichi—like barley malt, dried herbs from the rafters, and the unique, comforting omega scent that was his alone. A single window showed the slanted, silver lines of the continuing rain.Yamato didn’t pause to take it in. He went straight to the bed, lowering Taichi onto the soft quilt with a care that belied his size and his armor.
He straightened up, looking down at Taichi who lay there, hair mussed, lips swollen, eyes wide and dark in the dim light. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the only sound the rain and their own uneven breathing.
Then Yamato reached for the buckles of his armor.