Has he ever thought that he even deserves love and affection? Or does he still just think of himself as a tool in the Sanctum’s arsenal?
As a tool inObie’sarsenal?
Obie isn’t going to stand for that. Not forhishunter. Impulsively, he reaches out and frames Chester’s face between his hands, sparks dancing through him at the sudden intimacy of it.
Chester cuts himself off abruptly, shoulders hunching like he’s bracing himself for a blow. “Obie, what?—?”
I want to kiss you.
Chester stops dead. “What?”
I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks now, actually.Obie concentrates on keeping the words as clear and focused as possible, pushing them directly through their telepathic link. Sending them straight into Chester’s head, so he can’t doubt that they’re true.Do you—do you want that, too?
Chester’s breathing is unsteady. He swallows hard, his wide eyes boring into Obie’s.
Obie lets the silence stretch for a few beats before prompting,Chester? Did you hear me?
“Oh,” Chester says out loud, laughing shakily. “I, um, tried to answer. I said, ‘Kind of.’”
Obie’s heart leaps.Then how about you try the truth this time?
Chester’s breath shudders out of him. A split second later, his voice winds through Obie’s head, firm and solid.Yes. Please.
It’s like all the tension in Obie’s chest—the anger of the past few minutes and the stress of their undercover mission and the constant frustration of being so close to someone he thought he couldn’t have—evaporates at once.Good,he sends through the bond, and then he leans over the interrogation table, crosses the barrier of everything that’s kept them apart for so long, and kisses him.
34
The rough press of Obie’s lips on Chester’s is like an electric shock to his entire body. Obie’s hands are tight on either side of Chester’s face and his mouth is firm, insistent,demanding?—
Not forcing Chester into anything, but giving him everything. Laying all of Obie’s cards on the table and making it clear that Chester is going to have to be the one who pulls away first.
And Chester doesn’t ever want to pull away. He fumbles for a grip on Obie’s wrists, decides to grab on to his shoulders instead, somehow ends up with his fingers tangled in Obie’s shirt?—
Mine.
All mine.
He can’t tell whether the voice in his head is Obie’s or his own, and right now, he can’t bring himself to care. He was so convinced that Obie could never want someone like Chester, could never overlook his years as an interrogator, could never see him as anything other than the tolerable lackey who accidentally spellbound them together?—
But Obie is nipping lightly at Chester’s bottom lip, sending sparks dancing down Chester’s spine. Chester parts his lips on a soft exhale, hesitant and shaky, and Obie hums with approval, licking his way into Chester’s mouth to deepen the kiss, to pull him closer until Chester barely knows where he ends and Obie begins.
But it’s still not close enough, and this stupid interrogation table is in the way. Growling with irritation, Chester climbs over the top of it, sitting down on the opposite edge so he can wrap his legs around Obie’s waist, cinch his ankles behind Obie’s back, and pull them flush together.
Obie shivers. “You’re so perfect,” he mumbles against Chester’s lips.
The words make adrenaline sing through Chester’s veins. “Yeah?”
This time, Obie doesn’t even break the kiss, his answer floating through Chester’s mind.Yeah,he says, and without warning, Obie grabs one of Chester’s legs, swinging it up and backward. Yelping with surprise, Chester tangles his fingers into Obie’s shirt as Obie manhandles Chester onto the table, laying him down on his back with Obie straddling his waist.
Exhilarated heat roars through Chester, spiking high into his flushed face andlowpast his belly.“Yes,”he manages, the word higher and more breathless than he’s used to, and he drags Obie down to kiss him again, Obie’s body solid and heavy on top of Chester’s.
It’s perfect. It’sheaven.It’s everything Chester never let himself think about, everything he never thought hedeserved,all coming together at once. Obie’s lips move away from Chester’s mouth, pressing hard kisses down the side of his neck, licking a stripe up his throat that makes him gasp, lightly scraping his teeth down the line of Chester’s pulse?—
Obie stops short at the neckline of Chester’s shirt, abruptly pushing himself onto his hands and glancing around like he only justnow remembered where they are. “Oh,” he says, his dark eyes finding Chester’s. “Ah, bedroom?”
His voice is hoarse and husky and holds a promise that makes Chester’s head spin. To his own surprise, he reaches up to stop Obie from getting off the table. “No, let’s—let’s stay. I want this here. Wantyouhere.”
Obie goes still. His head tilts to one side, but instead of looking disgusted or exasperated, he just looks intrigued. “Really? Why?”
