"Always yours," I agreed and reached for his tie with my good hand, the moth tucked securely against my side. "Always your boy."
When we were both naked, he guided me toward the leather couch and positioned me on my back.
"Look what I've brought you," he whispered, reaching for the same blade he'd used on our fingers. "A token of tonight's success."
When he dragged the blade along my thigh, I didn't flinch. Instead, I spread my legs wider, offering myself to whatever pain he wanted to inflict. The first drop of blood beaded crimson against my skin, and Ezra's eyes darkened as he bent to taste it.
"The things you let me do to you," he murmured against my skin. "Do you know how beautiful you look when you bleed for me?"
The blade turned in his hand, catching light as it descended. Cold steel kissed my inner thigh, then bit deeper. Blood pearled along the precise line he carved, a scarlet signature against my skin. I bucked beneath him, a gasp tearing from my throat as pain blazed into pleasure.
"Now we match," he said. His free hand rose to show me his own palm, where a fresh cut mirrored mine. "Blood of my blood. Our private exhibition, art in its purest form."
He pressed his bleeding palm against my thigh. Our blood mingled as he smeared it across the cut. The pain and pleasure twisted together and built toward something transcendent.
"For our next project," he explained as he collected some of our mingled blood on his fingertips. "A binding agent created from both of us."
The thought of our blood being incorporated into our next creation thrilled me. "Perfect."
His fingers traced the cut on my thigh, still sensitive and slightly swollen. "So brave for Daddy, taking my blade so beautifully."
I arched into his touch, desire building inside me. "Anything for you. Any part of me you want."
"I want to carve my name on every inch of you," he said, voice rough with possession. "Not just your skin, but deeper—into your muscles, your bones. I want these hallowed bones of yours to carry my mark long after we're dust." He reached for the lube in the side drawer and slicked his fingers.
The first finger breached me, cool and slick. I gasped, not from pain but from the intimacy. After all this time, Ezra touching me still felt like the first time. My body opened for him, welcoming him inside.
"So responsive," he murmured, his eyes never leaving mine. "Always so eager for me."
A second finger joined the first, stretching me in the most delicious way. When he crooked them just so, they pressed directly against my prostate, sending electric pleasure shooting up my spine. My back arched off the couch, a moan tearing from my throat.
"Ezra," I gasped, my hands grasping at his shoulders, the moth pressed between our bodies. "God, right there."
His smile turned predatory. "Tell me how it feels. I want to hear you."
"Full," I managed between ragged breaths. "Perfect. Like you're touching my soul."
He knelt between my thighs, his cock heavy and flushed dark. The sight of him poised there, ready to claim me, made my breath catch. When the blunt head pressed against my slicked entrance, we locked eyes. No words needed. In that gaze lived every dark secret we shared, every body we'd transformed together.
"Mine," he growled as he pushed forward, breaching me in one smooth thrust.
The delicious burn of being stretched open made me gasp. My body yielded to him as it always did, accepting him deeper than anyone had ever been. I clenched around him, savoringhow his breath hitched, how his jaw tightened in response. His pulse throbbed inside me, our heartbeats syncing as he filled me completely.
"Yours," I agreed, voice breaking as he bottomed out.
As he thrust into me, I pictured the gallery patrons from earlier tonight, how none of them would recognize the monster beneath my carefully curated mask. How they'd admired my art without understanding its origins. The secret knowledge made my cock throb harder, my body tightening around Ezra as our shared darkness spiraled between us.
"Love you," I gasped as the words slipped out unbidden. "Love you, Daddy."
"I love you, too, Micah," he growled, his rhythm faltering only momentarily. "I love the monster beneath your beautiful face. I love the darkness you hide from everyone but me." His eyes burned into mine, fierce and possessive. "I would burn down the world to keep you. I would slaughter anyone who tried to take you from me. That's how I love you, Micah. Total. Consuming. Forever."
His thrusts became more urgent, more raw. My nails dug into his shoulders and drew fresh blood that mingled with the dried flakes from earlier. We moved together in perfect synchronicity. Blood smeared between our bodies. The metallic scent mingled with sweat and sex. When his hand wrapped around my cock while his other fingers pressed against the cut on my thigh, I cried out and came. His hips jerked against me as he followed, his groan muffled against my shoulder.
We lay tangled together afterward, blood and cum drying between our bodies. His weight created a comforting pressure. The new rings on our fingers caught the lamplight, twin promises of a shared future neither of us had dared hope for before finding each other.
"We need to clean up," he murmured eventually and pressed a kiss to my temple. "The exhibition reviews will start appearing online soon, and I want to monitor what the critics say."
I laughed. The sound vibrated between our still-joined bodies. "Always calculating, even after mind-blowing sex."
