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Sex (f)or Breakfast

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After the prior night’s events, Bryce had spent the better part of the morning laying awake in bed, waiting for a text, a call, anything to break the damning silence of the apartment. She knew eventually that bedroom door opposite hers would open and she would have to face the reality of what had transpired between the two of them. She couldn’t seem to shake the images of all that she had seen the night before - the dark emptiness in Hunt’s eyes when he had come through the front door. The way she discovered him sitting in the shower an hour later, letting the scalding hot water batter and burn him relentlessly. How she could feel the pain and remorse and inner hatred roiling off him in waves as thick and suffocating as the steam from the shower. The horrifying realization that this was not the first time he had done this, that he had become accustomed to this act of self-inflicted torture following each of Micah’s depraved missions. 

The world had been so wrong about him, he didn’t wear the title of Umbra Mortis with pride; he wore it with shame. In that moment, he was nothing but a shell of himself, of the Hunt that she knew. It was akin to staring at a reflection of herself, of her soul, and of the torment and guilt that had plagued her every day since Danika’s murder. 

So she did what she had wished for those past two years. She took care of him, the way she had wanted someone to take care of her. She had been alone, with no one left, and she would never let him feel that sort of hollow loneliness again. 

 

She lathered his hair and his wings, and carefully scrubbed his raw skin free of any grime and blood that remained. With her hands, she gently coaxed as much pain from his body as she could, washing it down the drain along with any physical trace of what had happened that evening. He remained resolute in his silence, with his head downcast and the wet strands of midnight hair framing his face, only giving her the barest recognition when she asked him to stand. But it was enough. Enough for her to know that he was still in there, however deeply buried beneath the weight of contrition. 

After slinging a towel around his waist, she gently patted him dry, and led him to his bedroom and into a pair of shorts before helping him into bed. When Hunt sank down into the mattress, the groan of the bed seemed to shake the stillness of the room, as if Hunt was piling on those invisible chains he had worn for over two centuries. He had been designed by Urd for the heavens, gifted with wings for great and magnificent things, but had spent most of his life shackled to the ground by the thorned halo across his forehead. That wretched tool of enslavement, which was a bastardization and mockery of the Malakim, placed a chokehold on his magic so strong that it had become nothing but a trickle. 

When Bryce made to leave, his hand shot out and gripped her wrist, giving a barely there squeeze as if silently pleading for her to stay. So she did. Letting him nestle his head in her lap, she stroked his hair until the restless heaves of his chest stilled into a calm rising and falling as sleep consumed him. Once content with his sleeping form she eased out from under him, carefully letting his head fall back onto the pillow. There had been nothing sensual about that evening, but as Bryce crept back to her room she couldn’t deny the inkling that something had changed. Since they had begun their partnership, their lives had simply been locked in orbit. Revolving around the same fixed position, tethered by gravity that held together the shattered pieces of their lives. But with every stroke of her fingers through his hair and each desperate lean into her touch, their worlds had begun to eclipse.  

 

***

 

When Hunt awoke, the first thing he noticed was the distinct smell of Bryce’s skin. He stretched out to reach for her, hoping to ground himself once more, but was met with nothing but crumpled bed sheets. She had definitely been there last night, there was no denying the scent of her that lingered heavily. 

He had spent so long coping with his own nightmares in solitude, that when she was suddenly kneeling in front of him on the tile floor, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t even know what to say, his own mind numb and void of anything remotely human. It wasn’t until Bryce was coaxing him into bed that he realized what it felt like not to be alone. And when her caressing touch dragged the last dregs of tension from his shoulders, he had slept soundly for the first time in ages. 

The intoxicating comfort of her presence called to him. He knew he needed to seek her out, to thank her, and to let her know that he was okay. He flipped off the covers and threw on a pair of sweatpants, silently padding to the door as the smell of coffee wafted through the apartment. As he approached the kitchen island, Bryce scowled at her phone before throwing it down in protest. He leaned against the marble countertop.

 

***

“Hey.”

Hunt’s voice, gruff with sleep, startled her out of her furious haze and she spun to find him leaning against the island. She couldn’t help but notice he was shirtless, a grey pair of sweatpants hugging his lean hips. 

“Fucking Hel Hunt, you need a warning bell or something.” Bryce cursed, her fists clenched in surprise. His shoulders shook, his mouth crooking up slightly. A smile, good. “How are you?” 

His brows furrowed, pain washing over his face momentarily. “Fine.” he stated in a pinched but gentle manner.

She took that as a clue to leave him be, not wanting to pry but worry overtook her so she averted her gaze, toeing the ground nervously before attempting to change the subject, “Do you want some-”

“Wait, Bryce,” he blurted, interrupting her, “I- I’m okay, really. I mean, I don’t think anything will ever change the- the person I have to be.” He ground out, his voice full of disdain, “Or the consequences of that. Not as long as I still bear this,” he said gravely, gesturing to the halo, “but-” he stammered, taking a breath to school his thoughts.

He closed the distance between them hesitantly, his statuesque form now towering over her. She couldn’t help the way her breath hitched at the closeness of him or the smell of his bare skin. As he looked down at her sun-kissed face, her lips already parted in anticipation, he could see the hope and trepidation swirling in her amber eyes. He took one of her hands in his, a gentle and intentional embrace.

“I’m more okay than I’ve ever been… Thank you.” he breathed, his words skittering across her skin like electricity. 

Her eyes lit up, as if they had soaked in the morning rays beaming through the living room windows. Any fear that had once lingered on her face had been chased away and the smile that broke across her face, Urd help him, was brighter than any star in the realm. They shared a silent moment, her hand still in his before she averted her gaze, a secret blush creeping into her cheeks. 

He broke the silence first, sensing her uncertainty of what to do or say next, “So, how about that coffee?”

 

***

 

As they milled about the kitchen, the routine was much of the same. But the unspoken truths hung in the air, smothering the very oxygen from the room until they were both choking on it. And when Hunt unexpectedly pressed a gentle kiss to Bryce’s cheek in a gesture of thanks, she was left reeling. She tried to fight the heat piquing in her cheeks as she became hyper aware of the hairs on her arms raising at his touch. Of the muscles between his wings flexing as he tended to breakfast. Of her thighs clenching to quell the rush at her core, and the subsequent absence of underwear causing the color to drain from her face. She was wearing nothing under the shirt. His shirt. 

Without warning his shoulders went tight, his wings tucking in, and he slowly turned on her with a curious but predatory gaze. The sudden quickening of her heart rate had likely alerted him. Or maybe it was the newfound heat pooling between her legs that had incited the almost feral way his eyes were roving over her. 

“You okay, Quinlan?” He asked, giving a smug perk of his eyebrow.

“Yeah, I- I’m great.” She choked out, barely able to breathe under the weight of his stare.

As he scanned the length of her body once more, his eyes narrowed, “Is that my shirt?”

She nervously fingered the hem, which fell to mid-thigh, tugging it down for good measure but not daring to look away. “Uh, yeah, I hope you don’t mind.” she breathed, her usual bravado now a simpering and demure thing hiding in the corner. He continued to examine her for another few seconds too long, causing her to resign to embarrassment, “I’m sorry, I’ll go change” she stammered, turning to escape to her room. But as she went to step, he grabbed on to the hem and tugged her back to him. 

“No, Quinlan, I don’t mind.” He said, his fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the hem. “I like seeing you in my shirt.” he confessed, his voice rumbling over her skin as he dropped his own gaze. His throat bobbed as he swallowed roughly.

In the movement of him pulling her back, she was now wedged between him and the island, suddenly aware of the cool marble against her spine. She knew her next move could be detrimental, that she was toeing the line between staying professional or diving headlong into something she might never be able to come back from. But in truth, she was already drowning in his presence and her own arousal. She willed her hand to move, placing her palm against his chest and he became violently still. Neither of them dared look at the other, their attention solely on her hand which was now drawing lazy circles on his tan skin. 

“What about…” she trailed off, her nerves jolting her into momentary submission before she steeled herself, practically shouting at that part of her quivering in the corner to pull up her fucking bootstraps, “what about out of it?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

He became preternaturally still, not even a feather rustling out of place. Before she could register what was happening, not even lifting his head he stepped away, letting her hand fall to her side, and turned back around to the eggs cooking on the stovetop. Bryce watched him for a moment, letting the realization of her mistake sink in, before whirling around to escape the sight of his rejection, the distance now separating them. She crossed the line that she had stood on the precipice of for so long, and she had fucked up. She silently admonished herself, pressing her palms against the countertop in agitation. The sound of the burner clicking off echoed through the morose quiet of the room. Not even she could muster the confidence to eat breakfast with him, not after what had just happened.

She was about to excuse herself from the room when a strong hand snaked around her from behind, palming her stomach, as another hand ghosted down the length of her arm sending chills racing along her skin. His lips were suddenly at her ear, his voice dripping with desire as it consumed every nerve in her body. 

“I would like that even more, Bryce.” He murmured, her name rolling off of his lips like a prayer. His body was pressed against hers, conforming to every curve, and the evidence of his arousal was pushing into her backside. The only thing louder than the stark silence of the room was the thunderous beating of their hearts. 

Hunt reached up, pushing aside her red-wine hair, and Bryce trembled at the cool draft suddenly whispering against her bare neck. Even though she knew what was coming, nothing could prepare her for the state of catatonic shock her body plunged into when his lips pressed against the silken skin of her shoulder. Everything became narrowed to that singular point of contact. She turned to putty in his hands. He trailed his lips up her neck, her mouth dropping open when his teeth grazed against her skin until he reached the shell of her ear once more. 

“Where do you want me?” he asked, his voice a tremor beneath her, threatening to shift and rupture her entire existence.

“Everywhere.” she moaned, gasping for a breath she had been holding. 

“Show me.” he said. A two word command that had her body aching and quivering. 

His hand that had been tracing up and down her arm nestled into her cupped palm, hanging limp at her side. Silently begging for permission. For direction. 

Fighting through the erotic haze fogging her brain, she found the wherewithal to respond and gripped his strong, callused hand. As she guided his hand down her leg, she turned her head to look at him, holding his gaze as their hands crept toward the inner apex of her thighs. It was when his fingers brushed across her center and the physical evidence of her aroused state that she whispered a single word. 

“Here.” 

His eyes went dark with primal lust and when his lips met hers, they were rough. Needy. No longer gently asking permission but rather desperately demanding entrance. She would let him take and take from her until they were both sweating and limp with satiation. 

Her lips parted, his tongue diving in to entwine with hers. She grazed his bottom lip with her teeth and a guttural growl rumbled from his chest. In a swift movement, he spun her around and gripped her behind her thighs, lifting her to sit on the edge of the cool, marble countertop. It was as if he had read her mind, seen the fantasies she had imagined many a morning.

He pressed himself between her legs, the feathered tips of his wings tickling her calves as they flexed and shifted around them. His hands roved the surface of her body, fitting into every crook of her curves, each voluptuous swell nesting perfectly in his palm, his grip greedy and unforgiving. As they kissed, their gasps and moans the only sound in the room, Hunt pushed his hands up her thighs, working the shirt up to her waist. When his thumb pressed and circled around her delicate clit, her jaw slackened as she exhaled a whimpering moan into his mouth. She grappled for something to hold onto, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck. He continued to work her, massaging the sensitive bundle of nerves as he kissed along her jawline. 

He hooked his arm under her knee, lifting it up and spreading her wider on the marble, causing her to drop one hand and lean back on the counter to support herself. With their faces mere inches apart, he held her gaze as he continued the rhythmic movements of his hand against her center, watching the way she reacted to him with delightful hunger. When he teased her entrance with one finger, her grip on his neck tightened and she bit her lip. She was aching for him and that drove him wild. He was becoming unhinged at the sight of her, her heaving chest pressing her pebbled nipples against his shirt, her thighs spread wide for him, and the way she had just bitten her pink, kiss-swollen lip.

Before Bryce could even beg, he slowly thrust one finger into her, making her head tilt back with euphoria, “Fuck, Bryce.” he cursed. The feeling of her wrapped around him, warm and wet, made his cock ache even more. Attaching his lips to her neck, he kissed and sucked and licked from her chin to the hollow of her throat. He wanted to draw this out, to tease her until she was trembling and gasping with pleasure. He wanted to taste her. Gods, he needed to taste her. But not yet. 

After a few moments, he withdrew his finger before inserting a second. Bryce brought her head up and with her eyes closed and lips parted in a pant, she focused on the sensation of his strong fingers teasing and stretching her, her arousal surely glistening on his skin. She wanted him to fill her, make her ache and scream with pleasure until there was nothing left of her. 

The next word she uttered made him groan in approval, “Faster.” she pleaded, knowing exactly what she needed to find her release. Hunt brought his forehead to hers, their lips barely touching as they shared breath, and he quickened his pace. The skin-to-skin contact and the way his strong fingers moved in and out of her, would bring her to the edge soon. When his free hand slid under and up her shirt to palm her bare breast, his thumb flicking her hardened nipple, she gasped, “Yes- yes, keep doing that, please!” she begged.

He did as she asked, his fingers unrelenting in their actions, and soon enough she was tipping her head back in ecstasy, her body shaking with pleasure. Hunt feathered kisses along her neck and chest, seeing her through her orgasm and when she was done, when her chest no longer heaved, he withdrew his fingers. He sucked them into his mouth, rolling his eyes back at the sweet and all-consuming taste of her. When his eyes opened again he realized she had been watching him, a self-satisfied smirk plastered across her flushed face. 

“Are you done?” she asked pointedly, her eyebrow perking. 

“Not even close.” he growled, catching her lips in his. When he dropped her leg, letting her straighten on the island, she broke from the kiss and gave a sharp intake of breath. The sound of pain sobered his mind and he discovered her face wrenched in a grimace. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” he blurted out, gently gripping the sides of her face with concern. 

“Oh stop fussing, it’s just my leg.” she told him off, “As much as I fantasized about this exact moment, I didn’t really take into account the comfort level of a countertop.” she laughed.

When Hunt didn’t laugh along, Bryce searched his face and found it set in a look as grim as his sudden demeanor. He was gently running his fingers along the brutal scar on her leg, his mind somewhere else entirely. She reached out, tipping his chin up to look at her and his gaze met hers, full of remorse. 

“No one could have changed what happened, not even you. If it weren’t for you being in that alley, I might have died that night… so stop blaming yourself.” Bryce said, her voice soft with forgiveness. 

Hunt gave a terse nod, cradling her hand that was pressed to his cheek. He turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss into her palm. 

“Now, for the love of Urd, can we go somewhere more comfortable?” Bryce laughed in feigned exasperation. 

“Alright, c’mon, we’re going to your room.” he said, sliding his hands under her and picking her up, letting her legs wrap around his waist. He walked toward her bedroom determinedly and she eyed him with curiosity.

“You just want to look in my nightstand, don’t you?” she asked with suspicion.

“Oh, you fucking know I do.” he purred, giving her ass a possessive squeeze. 

When they entered the room, Syrinx jumped off of Bryce’s unmade bed with a yowl and ran out of the room. Hunt kicked the door shut before laying her down carefully on the bed.

She swatted his hands away, “Fucking Hel Hunt, I’m not an invalid. I just need a second to stretch, okay? Go do what you came here for.” she said, gesturing to the side of the bed. As she began stretching her leg, he turned to the notorious nightstand, grabbing the handle and pulling the drawer open with contained excitement and curiosity.

Silence, and then,“What the fuck?” He exclaimed, her back turned to him as she stretched. The contents of the drawer jostled as he plucked an object from inside. 

“Oh c’mon Athalar, don’t act like you’ve never seen nipple clamps before.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes before turning around to see that looming giant of a man clutching a tiny Jelly Jubilee to his chest, his other hand shielding the toy’s face like a child. 

“Don’t look Juby!” He proclaimed, gasping in a playful tone. “Why in the Hel is she in your left nightstand?” 

“I don’t know, maybe I decided to bring her in here for safekeeping after someone rifled through my linen closet!” she spat in accusation. 

He leaned in, whispering as if performing an aside, “Y’know, I don’t think I can, in good conscience, continue this with her in the room.” 

“Oh for fuck sake, Hunt, just give her to me.” Bryce demanded in endeared exasperation, reaching up and snatching the glittery pegasus unicorn from his clutches before tossing it into the opposite nightstand. 

The contents of the drawer clattered again and when she turned back over, he was gripping her trusty vibrator in one hand, a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold swinging from one outstretched finger. “I see you found Bob.” She winked.

“Who the fuck is Bob?” he asked, genuine confusion lacing his voice.

She snorted. “Battery. Operated. Boyfriend.” she punctuated, pointing towards the purple, silicone vibrator in his left hand. 

He looked back and forth between her and the toy, contemplating what to say next before gulping in a breath. “Well besides that, uh, interesting bit of information, I have so many questions.” he mused, climbing onto the bed and crawling over to kneel between her legs, already spread for him. 

“For starters, where did you get these cuffs? They feel alarmingly real. Not just some cheap, adult store replica.” 

Setting down the other two items, he focused on the metal handcuffs, unlocking them with the key he had also pulled from the drawer before tossing it onto the nightstand.

“Those?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbows and feigning forgetfulness, “Oh I, uh, may or may not have stolen them…” she said, “...from the 33rd.” she added, her face breaking out into a sheepish grin.

His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he let her words sink in. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because,” she sat up, peeling off his white t-shirt, her body in all its glory now visible to him. He gulped, his eyes growing wider and he shifted on the bed. “Just like the rest of this gods forsaken city, you’ve heard the stories. My reputation precedes me…” she said. He saw the hurt flash through her eyes momentarily, but as quick as it had happened, it was gone. 

“So,” she stretched out two upturned fists to him, “cuff me officer.” she pouted, jutting out her bottom lip and giving him the saddest looking doe eyes.

His cock throbbed at the tone of her voice, at the way she was looking up at him so innocently, but he could see the wicked glint in her eyes. He took her hands, ratcheting the cuffs around each wrist and then picked up the blindfold, sliding his rough fingers along the silk material. He pushed a few stray strands of her hand behind her ears before stretching the elastic and sliding the blindfold down over her eyes. He ghosted his hands down the length of her arm, lifting them above her head and gently laying her back to rest on the bed. A knowing smirk played across her face.

“What are you up to, Athalar?”

He was hovering over her, his hard groin pressed against her aching center, his lips inches from hers. “Keep your arms up, and don’t move.” his voice was low and hungry, his command reverberating off her bones. 

With his hands planted on either side of her torso, he began kissing his way down her body, his lips trailing a tortuous path along her skin. When he reached her breasts, her skin pebbled at the contact. At his lips savoring each taste, his teeth grazing her teasingly, and at the cool breath he blew across her skin. He took each pert nipple between his lips, sucking and swirling his tongue around them, meanwhile flicking the other with his thumb.

Suddenly, he pulled his hands away, releasing her nipple from his lips. As much as it killed him, he stopped touching her altogether, admiring the swell of her breasts as they rose and fell with each breath. She began to squirm and his grin turned devilish. 

“Hunt, what the fuck? Why did you stop?” Her voice was wanting, needy.

He didn’t respond. Just continued to watch her squirm in the wake of his silence, enjoying the sight of her missing his touch. After a few moments he rubbed his fingers together, feeling the static spark come to life. Pressing the pads of his fingers to her skin, he circled them around her breasts, dragging a small electric current along her skin and causing her back to arch off the bed.

“Fucking Hel Hunt!” she yelped, bringing her hands down to her chest where he caught them by the chain of the handcuff.

“I told you not to move your hands.” He scolded, his voice a deep bass. 

“But I-”

“Does it hurt?” He asked, a tinge of concern edging his voice.

She paused, considering her response carefully. 

“No.”

“Then,” he pushed her arms back, guiding her hands once more to their resting place above her head. “Do what I say and don’t move, understand?”

She nodded, obeying willingly, and he sat back to work his remaining undergarment off and reposition himself. Laying down on his stomach, he nestled himself between her legs and wrapped his arms around her hips, bringing his hands up to rest on her abdomen. He looked down at the junction of her thighs, humming in approval at the sight of her gloriously aching center, the wetness of her arousal glistening in the morning light that shone through the penthouse windows. 

He called forth that static again, that small kernel of power that was only a fraction of the full might of his gift. As he kissed down the inside of her thigh, the one that had been injured two years before, he traced his fingers down the inside of the opposite thigh. She let out a gasp, the sensation like nothing she had ever experienced. He repeated the action of kissing her other thigh, this time not using his power, taking care not to cause her further pain. When he could no longer contain himself, he pounced upon her, his tongue lavishing erotic pleasure to her sensitive clit. When he electrified her skin once more, her back arched into his mouth as he feasted upon the taste of her. The delicious mixture of sensations - the soft press of his lips and the sharp tingling of his fingers against her skin - sent her reeling.

He repeated the tantalizing of her skin, diving his tongue into her entrance. “Holy fucking Urd, Bryce, you taste so good.” he groaned in delight, each word a tantric vibration through her core. 

Each languid swipe and thrust of his tongue was breaking her down and tearing her apart from inside. She could feel herself tightening, feel herself building to that eventual climax, but she didn’t want it to end that way. She wanted him inside her, filling her up so she could fall apart wrapped around his cock. She let him have a few more moments, let him savor the taste of her with delicious appreciation before setting her ruse into action. 

“Hunt, stop,” she moaned, lacing her voice with a whimper. He pulled himself up, sliding his body over hers so that he was once more hovering above her face, his arms pinned on either side of her torso. 

“What- what is it?” he asked. She could hear the panic in his voice. He had taken her bait.

She couldn’t help the devious smirk that spread across her face as she, with surprising strength, rolled him over onto his back and straddled him. She pushed the blindfold off and reached over, grabbing the key off of the nightstand. With quick precision, she unlocked the cuffs and chucked them, and the key, across the room. In this position, she could easily and selfishly find her release but she wanted nothing more than to sink down onto him. He reached up to caress her arms but she pushed them above his head, her body parallel to his, her breasts pressed against his hard chest. 

“I want you inside me.” She moaned in a whisper, nipping his lip playfully. She felt his abs clench underneath her in response, heard the growl hum in his chest. 

Reaching back, she grabbed his already hard cock, positioning it at her entrance, teasing herself and delighting in the way his jaw clenched at her touch. His eyes were dark with hunger, his face schooled into a look of lethal and predatory calm. When she finally shifted her hips, pressing herself down onto his throbbing length and taking him in fully, their jaws both slackened and the moans they let out were loud enough for even the wretched souls at the bottom of the Istros to hear. With her hands planted on his chest and her nails digging into his skin, Bryce sank down onto him over and over, her lithe dancer’s body affording her grace and flexibility as she gyrated up and down. Hunt reached around, his wide grip claiming her ass with devious possessiveness, bringing her hips down harder as he thrust himself up to meet her. The change in force made Bryce whimper and dig her nails in deeper, threatening to draw blood. 

“So, is it just like you imagined?” Bryce asked, her words breathless and unhinged.

“If you’re referring to this,” Hunt said, giving a pointed squeeze of her ass, “it is so much better.” he growled, before pulling her down to catch her lips in his, his tongue invading her mouth with reckless abandon. Bringing his hands up to either side of her face, his fingers slid into her hair and he gripped a section, giving a tug to bare her neck to him. 

“I have one more idea that I think you’ll enjoy.” she said as he feathered kisses along her skin from her chin to the hollow of her throat.

“What could I possibly enjoy more than this?” he whispered, his breath tickling her neck.

Without answering, Bryce lifted herself off of his cock, the absence of him instantly making her ache even more. She crawled down to the edge of the bed and on all fours, perked her perfect rear into the air and gave a beckoning wiggle. She wasn’t looking, but she knew as the bed shifted with his movement, that he was prowling towards her with a voracious hunger. She could practically feel the tension and sexual energy sizzling in the air. She felt his hands grip her ass again and then she felt his teeth sink into the tender skin of her rear, followed by a gentle but territorial spank.

His callused hands traced along her back and up to her neck, reaching around to gently grip her throat. His body was confirmed to hers and when his lips were once more at her ear, his deep voice rumbling through her, the fire inside of her was reignited with damning ferocity. 

“The kitchen counter may have been your fantasy, but this is mine.” he groaned, tracing his tongue along the shell of her ear.

“Oh, I know.” she moaned with a smirk, her voice dripping with arrogance. 

Hunt dipped two fingers into her, giving a few quick thrusts before withdrawing and sliding his cock in, letting her wrap around his sensitive erection. In this position, his reach was even deeper and their gasps and groans intermingled, filling the otherwise silent room. With his right hand still gripping her throat, Hunt reached his free hand around her abdomen, his fingers finding her clit. When they made contact, her body shuddered around him, writhing at the sensory overload assaulting her body. 

Bryce heard an airy snap as Hunt unfurled his wings fully and a moment later the room became a torrent of air. With both hands occupied, he was using the flap of his feathered wings to both balance himself and provide him further leverage to sink into Bryce with each thrust. The currents of air made her nipples harden, made her skin tingle with delight, and she could feel the coil deep within her tightening again. 

“You’re going to wake up the entire building with all that flapping.” Bryce snapped, her sex-mussed hair billowing like a curtain of fire.

“Good.” Hunt grunted, “Let them hear.” His wings beat faster, bringing his thrusts against her backside harder and deeper. His fingers still worked her clit, massaging her in circles that made her legs tremble. When he dragged his tongue up the side of her neck, biting her earlobe and groaning into her ear, it was her undoing. 

The coil within that was threatening to rupture sprang alive and it was everything she could do to keep herself on all fours. Her body shook with unrelenting pleasure and her moans echoed off of every wall. When she tightened around his cock he, too, found his release. The windows vibrated from his roar as he spilled into her, every muscle in his body tense, his skin gleaming with sweat.  When they both stilled, their chests heaving and legs trembling, they collapsed onto their backs in a sweaty but satiated heap, laying shoulder-to-shoulder. 

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was their gasping pants. Hunt’s wings were still extended, cascading over the edge of the bed in a blanket of white, Bryce’s blood red hair a stark contrast. 

Bryce squirmed, reaching under her and yanking out the purple vibrator. 

“I guess we didn’t need Bob after all.” She exhaled, tossing it to the other end of the bed. Hunt chuckled, his laughter shaking the bed, a smug smile forming. 

“I-,” Bryce started, still gulping in air, “I guess it’s a little late to ask, but do you take the tonic?”

“Every month on the dot, as per Micah’s contract.” Hunt said, his voice now a sharp edge at the mention of his servitude, “It doesn’t bode well to have a bunch of slave offspring running around I suppose.”

Bryce looked over and saw the way his face was set into hard lines, his eyes turning dark as he became lost in thought. She rolled over onto her side, taking his tattooed wrist into her hand. She pressed her kiss-swollen lips against the inside of his wrist where the slave tattoo was etched into his skin. She repeated the action, kissing the spot several times before angling herself up to do the same across his forehead, trailing her lips gently across the thorned halo.When she was finished, she pulled back and looked him in the eyes with absolution.

“I’ve seen who you are Hunt, who you truly are, and you are so much more than those markings.” she spoke quietly, the tender admission lingering in the air between them. His eyes grew softer as he looked into the amber ones peering into his soul. Like so many other times, his breath caught at how beautiful she was. How the morning sun made her glow with an otherworldly radiance. How her face was so soft, a smattering of freckles bedecking her skin like a constellation. How her red hair spilled over her shoulders and back like a velvet curtain. 

In that moment, he wanted so badly to say what had tortured him every day since his exploration of her linen closet, and the innocent way she had divulged a part of herself that no one else had seen. He could taste the words on his lips, could feel them forming, but before he could utter a word Bryce broke the silence with a contented sigh and flopped back down onto the bed.

“Alright Athalar, can we actually go make breakfast now? I’m fucking starving!” she exclaimed, making the bed shake from their laughter.

Hunt rolled over to hover over top of her, his sable hair hanging down around his face and tickling her skin. He pressed his lips to hers, lingering once more at the taste of her.

He spoke, his words coming out muffled against her mouth. “The last one there has to do the dishes!” he grinned wickedly, making a dash for his underwear discarded across the room.

“It’s on alphahole!” she shouted, leaping off the bed, knocking her bedside lamp off with a clatter in the process. She shrugged on his t-shirt once more, dodging the forgotten handcuffs he chucked at her which hit the closed bedroom with a metallic crash. From across the apartment, Syrinx gave a whine at the commotion, leaping down off of the couch to wait patiently for Bryce to fill his food bowl.