"Nick," he gasps against my mouth. "I need—I can't—"
I pull back enough to see his face, flushed and desperate. "Tell me."
"More," he says, his voice breaking. "Inside. I need you inside me."
The words send a jolt of pure heat through my system. My cock, already hard enough to be painful, throbs at the thought.
I take my time, preparing him carefully, watching his face for any sign of discomfort. But there's only pleasure there—his eyes half-closed, lips parted, small sounds of encouragement escaping with each breath.
When I finally position myself between his thighs, I pause one last time. "Micah," I say, needing him to hear this. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but I know I can't stop. Is that okay?"
His eyes open fully, meeting mine with a vulnerability that steals my breath. "I know," he says softly. "And yes. God, yes."
My chest tightens at his words, relief mixed with anxiety I can't name. I lean down and kiss him, desperate and grateful and completely out of my depth.
When I finally push inside him, the sensation makes my vision blur. Micah is tight and hot around me, slick and welcoming in a way that scrambles my brain.
"Fuck," I gasp against his neck. "Micah, I can't—this is—"
"I know," he breathes, his hands fisting in my hair. "God, Nick, you feel so good."
I start to move, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency as Micah's responses guide me. His legs wrap around my waist, but that's not enough. I need him closer, need better access. Without thinking, I hook my hand behind his knee and push his leg higher, opening him up more. The new angle makes us both gasp, and Micah's eyes go wide with surprise.
"Nick," he breathes, and there's awe in his voice that's new to me.
I don't even realize I'm doing it until it's done—my free hand finds his wrists, pressing them into the mattress above his head. Not hard, but firm enough that he can't move them. The submissive position makes my pulse spike with possessive satisfaction.
I find myself leaning down to breathe in his scent at the curve of his neck. The urge is so strong it's almost compulsive—Ineedto smell him, need to cover him with my scent. My teeth find the sensitive juncture of Micah's neck and shoulder, and I press down without thinking. Not hard enough to break skin, but enough to mark.
"Mine," I growl against his throat, the word ripping out of me before I can stop it. "You're mine."
The possessiveness in my voice shocks me.Where the hell did that come from?
"Yes," Micah gasps, his body arching beneath me. "Yours, Nick. Always yours."
His words trigger an instinct that I don't recognize, don't understand. I've rarely felt anything like this—this overwhelming need to claim, to possess, to make sure everyone knows he belongs to me. It should scare me. Instead, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
"I'm yours," Micah whispers, and I release his wrists so I can frame his face with my hands, making sure he can't look away.
"Damn right you are," I say. Micah's pupils dilate even further and he makes a needy sound. His body clamping down around me like a vice, and then he's coming, his cock pulsing between us, painting our stomachs with his release.
The feeling of him coming apart around me is too much. With a growl I follow him over the edge, my orgasm tearing through me so hard I see stars. I'm dimly aware of Micah's name on mylips, of his nails digging into my shoulders, of my knot swelling and catching, locking us together.
When I come back to myself, I'm collapsed on top of him, our bodies still joined, both of us breathing hard. Micah's fever-hot skin is cooling slightly against mine, and I can feel the steady pulse of his heartbeat where our chests are pressed together. I shift carefully, not wanting to hurt him with my knot, and roll us to our sides, keeping him close.
"You okay?" I ask, brushing sweat-dampened hair from his forehead.
He nods, a small, satisfied smile curving his lips. "Better than okay," he murmurs. "That was...God, Nick. That was incredible."
Relief washes through me. "Yeah," I agree, pressing a kiss to his temple. "It really was."
We lie in silence for a while, our bodies cooling, my knot gradually subsiding. I should feel weird about this—about what we just did, about the possessive shit that came out of my mouth, about how I literally couldn't control myself. But all I feel is satisfied in a way I've rarely experienced, like I've been starving and finally got fed.
"What are you thinking?" Micah asks eventually, his voice soft and slightly hoarse.
I consider the question, trying to sort through the chaos in my head. "I'm thinking I have no idea what just happened to me," I say finally. "I've never...I don't usually..." I trail off, frustrated by my inability to articulate the way my brain seemed to shut off and my body took over completely.
Micah shifts to look at me, concern flickering in his eyes. "Do you regret it?"