Zio didn’t care. The desire to join himself to Devan in any way Devan would let him was making him dizzy. His chest heaved, his head spun, and coherent thought was long gone. “I want—”
Devan growled and moved too fast for Zio to catch him, rolling them, throwing Zio onto his back and pressing his forearm against Zio’s throat. “I know what you want. You can’t have it.”
“Why not?”
“I told you already. Because of the pack. The war. And a million other reasons.”
“Then why are you playing me?”
“I’m not—”
“You are. How else do you explain the last few days? Or have you been healing my fucked-up soul with pizza and blowjobs?”
Devan’s edible lips twitched. “You bought your own pizza last time.”
“Didn’t suck my own dick, though, did I?”
Devan groaned and dropped his head, platinum hair falling forwards, obscuring his face.
Zio ached to comfort him, punch him, fuck him. Punch him some more, then fuck him all over again. “This shit isn’t fair. Why do you get to turn me inside out and walk away every time?”
“I can’t walk away.”
“What?”
Devan raised his head. “I said, I can’t walk away. If I could, we’d have fucked already and that would be the end of it.”
“What about all that crap about the pack and the war?”
“It would still stand, but if we’d had a one-time hook-up, I’m pretty sure life would’ve moved on by now.” Devan removed his arm from Zio’s throat and tugged him upright, faces inches apart, chests grazing. “Before this gets out of control, you need to know... I don’t think anything that happens between us is ever going to be a one-time thing.”
* * *
Devan pinned Zio’s hands above his head. Somehow in the last ten minutes, he’d lost sight of all reason. Or maybe he’d never had it, and that was why it was now him straddling Zio. Him chasing the heated bolts of pleasure that blinded him so completely to anything else.
Anything except Zio.
Devan gazed down, drinking in Zio’s fast-moving chest, flushed skin, and hooded dark eyes. Gods, he was beautiful. Devan pushed messy sweat-dampened hair out of his own face and leaned back. He ached to fuck Zio, to put an end to the yearning that was driving them both so insane, but he’d meant it when he’d told Zio that nothing they did would be a one-time thing, and his pack’s warnings, though a distant memory while he kept Zio prisoner beneath him, still held true.I can’t fuck him. Not yet.
But he had to do something. Had to set them both free, even if it was just for tonight.
“Devan.”
Devan opened his eyes, unaware that he’d closed them until Zio’s whisper broke through. “What is it?”
“Can I touch you?”
Devan blinked. “Why are you asking me that?”
“Because I need you to feel like I do when you touch me.”
Devan found his hazed memory of the club and then the razor-sharp recollection of the forest. Zio had filled his throat perfectly, as though he’d been made to slide along Devan’s tongue. He remembered Zio’s crazed, ecstatic moans, and desire pulsed through him. “Touch me. Please.”
Zio sat up and closed his hand around Devan’s hard length. Fluid beaded at the tip and created the ultimate alchemy of wetness and friction.
Devan gasped. “Your hand is so warm.”
“Does it feel good?”