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Julien picked the colors seven years ago, based on what he thought looked cool and dangerous. Nobody should let sixteen-year-old boys pick anything.
What’s he saying? You should bite him, Rumi says helpfully in his head. Or Fisk can bite him? Not me. I prefer my meat dead and cooked.
Really unfair of Will to bite his lip like that. Julien’s having enough trouble concentrating without that image jolting straight to his cock.
Will steps closer, and the clean scent of him fills Julien’s lungs once again. Julien wants to bury his nose in Will’s neck. Measure his hand around Will’s wrist. He didn’t pay enough attention the first time he grabbed Will.
“Am I being fired?” Whisper asks. “Worse,” Nadine says. “You’re being promoted.”
Julien peers through the hanging flowers again. Now, Will is bent over, scratching Fisk’s fluffy neck. Would Will lean in like that if Julien stroked behind his ears?
“Don’t worry. I’m a responsible royal scion. I’ll keep my dick in ungrateful, backstabbing courtiers where it belongs.” “It belongs in a cage,” Nadine mutters. Julien taps his chin thoughtfully. “Is that treason? I think that might be treason.”
“Wait for me in the hall,” Julien says on impulse. Will pauses, then gives a sharp nod and leaves. Julien doesn’t have anything to talk to Will about, but he’s sure he’ll think of something.
I’m definitely not going to fuck him, Julien tells himself. At least, not before the background check comes back.
Will is so pretty in the sunlight, so soft with his stockings and untucked shirt, that Julien can’t help taking his hand again. He lifts Will’s hand slowly, giving him every opportunity to pull away. But Will stands still, allowing Julien to press his lips to the smooth back of his hand. Will’s fingers tighten around his, and Julien’s heart fills with giddy light.
his gaze lifts and meets Whisper’s across the hall. His eyes widen and his lips part, the slightest fracture in his courtly veneer. As he licks his lips, his hunger claws through Whisper as keenly as if it were his own.
We missed you, Rumi says, her ears pinned back in distress. Whisper tries to scratch under Fisk’s jaw like usual, but instead of soft fur, he touches something wet. His hand comes away red with fresh blood, and Fisk looks very pleased with himself. We missed you a lot. Julien helped us.
“I took this scar for you,” Whisper says. “That’s not a bad thing. I’ll never regret it.”
“I tried to resist you,” Julien says, his voice penetrating into Whisper’s soul. “I’ve wanted you since the day I first saw you, and the more I know you, the more I want you. Fuck, the sounds you make.”
Will arches against him, and Julien’s kisses descend the graceful column of his throat. “Leave marks,” Will pants. “Break my skin. I don’t care who sees the bruises.”
He wants to own every part of Will. He wants to keep him, protect him, learn every sound he’s capable of, discover every light and shadow in his eyes.
His hands slide from Julien’s shoulders to his chest, and tension echoes through him. “Fuck me so hard that I feel it for the rest of my life.”
“Hey, kitten,” Julien says, and angles down to offer a kiss. He feels the moment Whisper’s reserve shatters, and the kiss in return is desperately sweet. Iron and earth. Salt and sky. Finally, Julien’s heart settles behind his ribs.
Rumi sits behind Fisk, cleaning her paw with a large, raspy tongue. Tell the kitten I’m not speaking to him, but Fisk has forgiven him because Fisk is an idiot. She pauses. You are also an idiot.
“You still don’t get it.” Julien stares into his eyes, intense and searching. “You don’t have to deserve me.”
