"I need to feel something else," he murmured against my lips, the words vibrating between us. "Something besides this...emptiness. This rage."
I nodded, understanding completely. "Tell me what you need."
His hands moved to my pants, undoing the button with unsteady fingers. "These off."
I helped him, shedding my remaining clothes until I was naked beside him. He stared at me for a long moment.
"Straddle me," he ordered, his voice rough with need.
I moved over him, settling my weight carefully across his hips, mindful of his injured shoulder.
His hands came to my hips, steadying me. "Stay just like this," he instructed, reaching for the ice bowl again.
I watched, curious, as he took a cube, bringing it to my chest. The cold shock made me gasp, goosebumps racing across my skin as he traced a freezing path from my collarbone to my navel.
"Now you understand," he said, a ghost of his usual smirk appearing briefly, the familiar expression like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
The normalcy of that expression, however fleeting, made something in my chest loosen. He was coming back to himself, piece by piece, emerging from the fog of shock and grief.
The ice melted against my heated skin, droplets trailing down my body. Luka watched their path with hypnotic focus, his breathing steadier now, deeper.
"More?" he asked, reaching for another cube, water dripping between his fingers.
I nodded, holding still as he traced this one along my ribs, then down, skating dangerously close to my rapidly hardening cock. The contrast between the ice's biting cold and his body's heat beneath me was intoxicating, two extremes meeting where our bodies joined.
"Feel that?" he asked, voice low and rough, like gravel against silk. "Just physical sensation. Nothing else. Nothing complicated."
"I feel it," I confirmed, my voice trembling slightly as the ice left freezing trails across my sensitized skin.
He nodded, satisfied, then took another cube. This one he brought to his own mouth, letting it melt partially before trailing his cold tongue across my chest. The sensation ripped a gasp from me, the contrast between ice and tongue overwhelming. Cold, then hot, thencold again as his tongue dragged across my skin, leaving damp trails that cooled instantly in the air.
"God, Luka," I breathed, unable to stop the shiver that ran through me.
His hands tightened on my hips, pulling me more firmly against him. I could feel him hardening beneath me, his cock pressing against mine through the thin barrier of his boxers. The wet cotton clung to the outline of his cock, the metal piercings visible as ridges beneath the fabric.
"Take these off me," he ordered, lifting his hips slightly.
I complied, sliding down his body to remove his boxers, then returning to my position astride him. Now there was nothing between us, skin to skin, heat to heat. His cock stood proud against his stomach, those distinctive metal bars catching the light.
His hand wrapped around both our cocks, pressing them together in a grip that was almost too tight. The metal bars of his piercings pressed against my flesh, creating points of delicious pressure that had my hips jerking involuntarily.
"This," he said, voice rough with arousal and something deeper, something almost like reverence. "Just this. Just us."
I nodded, understanding what he needed. No penetration, no complexity—just connection, friction, presence. The simplest form of intimacy.
He began to move his hand, stroking us together with a grip that was just shy of painful. I braced my hands on his chest, careful of his wounded shoulder, rolling my hips to match his rhythm. The slide of our cocks against each other, slick with pre-cum and melted ice, sent electricity racing up my spine.
"Look at me," he demanded, his free hand coming up to grip my chin, forcing my gaze to his. "Don't look away."
I met his gaze, shocked by the naked vulnerability I found there. Not just desire but raw, desperate need for connection, for grounding, for proof that something good still existed in a world where his sister could be erased and remade into a stranger.
"I'm here," I told him, holding his gaze, refusing to look away. "I'm not going anywhere."
Something broke in his expression. Not a fracture but a surrender. His free hand came up to grip the back of my neck, pulling me down until our foreheads pressed together again, breath mingling between us. The intimacy of the position, more than any sexual act, threatened to undo me completely.
"Vincent." The word ghosted across my lips, a promise and a plea.
Our bodies moved together, finding a rhythm that built steadily. The sensation of his cock against mine, the tight grip of his hand around us both, the cold trace of ice still lingering on our skin. It all combined into something primal and necessary. His breathing grew ragged, his eyes never leaving mine, even as his rhythm faltered.
