His hands are everywhere.
My waist, my ribs, sliding up under my hoodie. His palm finds the binder and he hesitates for half a second before his hand slides lower instead, gripping my hip hard enough to bruise.
I yank at his belt.
"Here?" he growls against my throat. "On the fuckingroof?"
"Unless you'd prefer the utility closet."
He makes a sound that's almost a laugh. Almost.
Then he's spinning me, walking me backward across the rooftop until my back hits the wall beside the fire door. Better surface. More cover from the fog rolling past the rooftop edge. Not that anyone can see us up here, but Rex's body language says he needs the wall, needs the containment, needs something solid behind me so he doesn't feel like we're exposed.
His hand finds my zipper.
"The—" I hiss as his fingers work my jeans open. "Prosthetic. Hang on?—"
I reach into my pants and yank the silicone cock free, tossing it blindly behind me.
Rex watches it arc through the fog.
It lands somewhere on the tar paper with a wetslap.
"Graceful," he says flatly.
"Shut the fuck up, Rex," I growl, nipping at his mouth, his throat, everywhere I can reach as his hand shoves into my open jeans. Past the waistband. Past the thin cotton underneath. His fingers find me and I hear his breath catch when he discovers how wet I already am.
Omegawet.
Years of suppressants did fuck all about that.
"Fuck," he breathes.
"Yeah." I grab his belt with both hands and work it open. "About that. There's something I need to tell you?—"
"Don't," he growls. "Save it."
"Rex."
He ignores me as if he knows exactly what I'm trying to tell him and he isn't ready.
As if he just needs a distraction right now.
It takes some maneuvering. Jeans shoved down enough to work. His cock freed from his zipper, heavy and hot in my hand. The scar spiraling down his shaft catches on my palm and he winces, that familiar flash of pain chased by a snarl.
"Careful," he growls.
"I know." I ease my grip. Stroke the underside where the skin is smooth and unmarred. He shudders, his forehead dropping against mine.
He lifts me.
Just grabs my thighs and hauls me up like I weigh nothing, my back sliding against the wall, my legs wrapping around his waist. The position puts us eye to eye and the naked want on the visible half of his face makes my chest cave in.
"Tell me to stop," he grits out.
The head of his cock presses against my entrance, slick and hot.
"No."