Chapter 354: Chapter 354: Quiet
The knot held them fast, throbbing with every slow pulse of Trevor’s release. Lucas lay sprawled beneath him, chest rising and falling in uneven waves, sweat cooling on flushed skin. His green eyes fluttered half-shut, but there was still that glint of feral satisfaction in them, the same one that had burned across the dinner table hours earlier.
Trevor smoothed damp hair back from his brow, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Gods, Lucas," he murmured. His voice was still rough, gravelled by the edge of his rut. "I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you."
Lucas huffed a laugh that broke halfway into a sigh. "You’re already inside me, knotted... how much more do you want?"
Trevor’s mouth curved into a dangerous smile as he nuzzled his throat, inhaling the honey-thick scent still blooming from his mate’s heat. "Every word," he whispered. His hand slid down, resting over Lucas’s stomach again, thumb circling idly against slick skin. "What you told me tonight... what you wanted? That’s mine too. You trust me enough to forget about your filter. Do you know what that does to me?"
Lucas tilted his head enough to catch his gaze, still hazy but sharp in its honesty. "I know," he said simply. "That’s why I told you. I don’t want anyone else to hear it. Only you."
Trevor’s breath caught, a low, guttural sound escaping him as his body responded, his knot swelling again inside the tight clutch of Lucas’s heat. He groaned against his mate’s throat, teeth grazing over the still-throbbing bond mark. "Gods, Lucas... you’ll undo me."
Lucas arched subtly against him, lips curving even through the exhaustion. "You love it," he whispered, teasing but true. "The way I give you everything. The way I can’t hide from you."
Trevor growled low, the sound vibrating against his skin. "I don’t just love it. I need it." His hips shifted instinctively, shallow but insistent thrusts that made the knot tug and lock harder. "You trust me with all of you, and I’ll spend my whole life proving you’re right to."
Lucas’s fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently until their foreheads met again. His green eyes burned with something softer now, something even hotter than heat itself. "Then don’t stop," he whispered. "Not tonight."
Trevor kissed him hard, a claiming kiss that tasted of sweat and salt and promise, the weight of his love pressed into every breath. And though they were already joined, already sealed, his body moved again, rut reigniting with every sound Lucas made beneath him.
Because nothing, not power, not politics, not promises, was as intoxicating as this: his mate, his omega, his Lucas, trusting him with every thought, every breath, every part of himself.
And Trevor would give it back tenfold, over and over, until dawn broke and beyond.
—
Morning crept in quietly, pale light spilling across the wide windows and turning the tangled sheets gold. The room smelled thickly of cedar and honey, layered so deeply into the air that no amount of open windows could chase it away. It clung to the linens, the floor, and the skin of the two men still wrapped together in the center of the bed.
Trevor lay on his side, propped on one elbow, watching. Lucas slept on his stomach, arm curled loosely under the pillow, hair mussed, and cheek pressed into the rumpled linen. His breathing was slow and steady, the exhaustion of heat and rut finally giving way to something softer: peace.
Trevor’s gaze lingered on the bond mark at his nape, faintly red from where his teeth had worried it through the night. He reached out, brushing a careful thumb over it, and was soothed when Lucas stirred only faintly and sank deeper into sleep.
He let his hand drift lower, splaying across the small of Lucas’s back, then over his hip, before finally resting on his stomach. Warm. Steady. His.
For a long moment Trevor didn’t move, didn’t even breathe deeply, just listened to the quiet, felt the weight of his mate under his hand, and thought about everything Lucas had said. The honesty at dinner. The way he’d whispered his trust in the dark. The way he’d asked for more, demanded it, really, and given every piece of himself without flinching.
Trevor bent, pressing a kiss to Lucas’s shoulder. His voice was no more than a murmur against warm skin. "You undo me," he confessed softly, words meant only for the morning air. "And I’d let you do it a thousand times."
Lucas stirred then, green eyes cracking open, hazy but focused enough to catch Trevor’s face so close. A sleepy smile tugged at his lips. "You’re staring," he mumbled, voice rough from sleep.
Trevor’s mouth curved, unrepentant. "Always."
Lucas shifted just enough to roll onto his side, tucking himself into Trevor’s chest. "That’s exhausting," he muttered, though the faint curve of his smile betrayed him.
Trevor chuckled low in his throat, arms coming around him, anchoring them together in the warm wreck of the sheets. "Not for me."
The house outside was already stirring, footsteps whispering over polished floors, doors opening and closing in a rhythm that spoke of staff going about their duties. But none of it touched the suite. Here, it was cedar and honey, warm skin against warm skin, the hush of steady breathing in the aftermath of a storm.
Lucas curled closer, the platinum band on his finger glinting as he slid his hand lazily over Trevor’s chest. "Feels strange," he murmured, voice still thick with sleep. "No one knocking. No papers waiting. Just..." His eyes fluttered shut again. "This."
Trevor pressed his lips to the crown of his hair, humming in agreement. "Strange," he echoed, though his tone held no complaint. "And perfect."
For the first time in weeks, there was nothing else demanding their attention. No crises. No dinners. No scheming relatives. Just the two of them tangled in the sheets, the bond mark at Lucas’s nape warm under Trevor’s hand, and a stillness that felt earned.
Trevor shifted only to tug the blankets higher over them both, careful not to break the fragile cocoon they’d built. "Sleep more," he whispered, his voice low and steady. "The world can wait."
And for once, Lucas believed him. He let the weight of his mate’s arms and scent anchor him, let the quiet wrap around them, and drifted back into sleep without a fight.