Page 57 of Glorious Ruin
“Touch yourself,” I growled into his ear.
Silas wasted no time. He reached down, his hand a blur as he started to stroke his own cock. The sight of it, of him working himself while I claimed him from behind.Fuck,Every time my hips hit his, he let out a broken, high-pitched whimper that made my bloodsing.
I snaked my hand to the front of his neck, my thumb rubbing against his pulse point as I drove into him. I was feral, my movements uncoordinated and desperate.
“Fuck, baby—I—I’m coming!” Silas cried out, his body going rigid.
In a near instant, I felt the wave crash over me. I fell over the edge, burying myself deep inside him as my vision went white. The pulses of my own release spilled hot and thick inside him, and my legs finally went weak.
I collapsed against his back, my chest heaving, my forehead resting against his neck. We stayed like that for a long time, only the sound of our synchronized, ragged breathing and the distant hoot of an owl.
When I finally caught my breath, I pulled out gently. Silas’s legs were visibly trembling, and for a second, I was genuinely concerned I’d overdone it. He immediately dropped to his knees the second I was out of him, his forehead resting on the wooden railing.
“Jesus, are you alright?” I asked, my voice tight.
Silas let out a breathy, exhausted laugh. He looked up at me, his sweaty hair sticking out from under the cap, his eyes glazed and happy. “I can’t feel my legs. I think you actually broke me that time.”
I smiled, a surge of warmth hitting my chest. I leaned in and kissed him, tasting the salt on his skin. “Come here.”
I pulled him to his feet, letting him brace his full weight against me. He was heavy and warm and perfect. In one swift motion, I scooped him up into my arms bridal style.
“Put me down, you giant dork!” Silas half-heartedly protested, though he tucked his head into my shoulder.
“Not a chance,” I joked, walking toward the door. “Pull the damn handle, husband.”
Day 13 — THE REED LAND, NORTH CAROLINA
Now playing: sun to me - mgk
Thefeverdreamhadofficially settled into a rhythm.
I woke up late, later than Silas normally did, which was a first in our entire relationship. Usually, I was the one dragging him out of bed, but today, I just lay there in the quiet room, reflecting on how much of a blessing this disaster had become. Being home for two weeks felt perfect. It feltsafe. For the first time in years, the imposter in my chest was silent. I wasn't even sure I wanted Presley Murran to call back. I liked being the man who lived in a creepy old farmhouse.
The only thing we hadn’t done on our home list was hang the porch swing. We’d talked about it for months, a massive, solid-wood swing where we could sit and watch the sunrise together.
I was pulled out of my thoughts by a sudden, rhythmicbang-bang-bangof hammers from outside, followed by the muffled sound of multiple voices. I groaned, rolling over to find the bed empty. I pulled myself up, tugging on a pair of sweats.
I stepped out onto the front porch, squinting against the bright morning sun.
The scene was pure chaos. Silas, Maverick, Scott, Colin, and Taylor were all standing around a massive, heavy-looking wooden bench. They were bickering at a volume that could probably be heard in the next county.
“Oh hey, sleeping beauty decided to wake his ass up!” Taylor yelled, pointing a hammer at me.
“When did your annoying ass get home?”
Taylor snickered as he helped Scott hold up a heavy iron chain. “Probably while you were getting your back blown out, fuck-face. You two aren’t exactly quiet.”
“Taylor!” Scott, Silas, and Maverick all yelled in unison.
“For the love of all things holy, don’t ever say that shit in front of me again,” Maverick pleaded, looking like he wanted to crawl into a hole. Silas was a bright, mortified red, his eyes fixed firmly on the chain he was holding.
I walked up to Taylor, clapping a hand on his shoulder and leaning in close so Maverick couldn’t hear. “Still selling vapes at soccer practice, kid?”
Taylor went rigid instantly, his eyes wide as he stared at me like I was the Grim Reaper.
“Can you two stop bickering and come help us hang this ridiculous-ass swing that Silas insisted had to be up before noon?” Colin groaned, struggling to lift his end of the solid oak.
I looked at Silas, who was finally looking back at me with a soft, tired smile. I stepped in to grab the center of the bench. “I’ve got it,” I said.
