2:23 in the morning, but Daniel hit dial anyway.

“Daniel?”

He closed his eyes at the immediate worry in Levi’s sleepy voice. “How are you?”

“Shit, forget me.” Murmured voices and rustling clothes echoed in the background. “How are you?”

He chuckled darkly. “I am thinking forty-nine is very late for me to discover my bisexuality.”

“It’s never too late,” his brother said softly. “Some people go to their graves not knowing who they are.”

Of course. He knew that. “I’m sorry you got caught up between Stavros and me, and I’m sorry for waking you.”

“You can call me any time,” Levi assured him. “Van’s still kinda pissy so uh, we haven’t been to bed yet.” He cleared his throat then said, “That Stavros, you’ve got dude’s head all fucked up. You know that, right?”

“He does the same to me.”

“But you like it.” When Daniel didn’t answer, Levi chuckled. “Yeah, I know. I married one of those. The sex alone almost makes up for everything else, but you can’t build something on a hate-fuck alone.” He paused. “Do you want to build something?”

“I don’t know.” Daniel put his head back on the car seat. Headed to the airport. Running, too. From what just happened in that hotel room behind him. He didn’t think about it. Couldn’t think about it yet. “I touch him and nothing else matters, but that never lasts.”

“And you remember you’re fucking the man who killed your wife.”

“It is crazy.”

“Yeah, it is. But he’s a crazy dude, and from what the news says, you’re off your rocker. So…”

“Te amo, hermanito. Gracias.”

“Later.”

He ended the call and blew out a breath. Lots he had to figure out, and he couldn’t do it in Stavros’ bed. He fingered the rope in his lap. He should have tossed it in the trash, but for some reason he held on to it. His shoulders throbbed from all the twisting and slamming he’d done to break the headboard. He’d feel it for a few days, but it was a small price to pay.

He had to get away. Not away from Stavros, because that was an impossibility. The magnitude of it all crashed down on him, and he needed to think. Clear his head, and come to grips with what was happening.

I’ll take the blame for the both of us.

But it wasn’t on Stavros to make Daniel’s betrayal an easier weight to carry. It wasn’t on Stavros’ shoulders to make Daniel feel better that he hadn’t been a full participant in what just happened. From their first kiss, he’d never not been fully engaged and completely aware of his actions. His mind, his body had been fully on board.

He didn’t need an excuse. The truth worked just fine.

He wanted it.

Wanted more, and next time he’d take more.

Because there would be a next time.

* * *

“What’s the emergency?” Stavros strode into his uncle’s office without knocking. “I need to—” He stopped short at the sight that greeted him.

His uncle sat at his desk, flanked on either side by two men with guns pointed at his temple. Before Stavros could do more than blink, a weapon was pressed to his side.

“Fuck.”

He glanced to his left and cursed again. This time silently.

Felipe Guzmán stood with his hands in his pockets. Felipe, the leader of The Ghost Gang. Daniel Nieto’s rival.

And brother-in-law.

“Mr. Konstantinou, welcome.” That name didn’t send Stavros’ pulse into overdrive like it did when Daniel used it. “We have business to discuss.”

“Do we?” Stavros held his gaze. “Get your men away from my uncle.”

Felipe smiled, looking like the boy next door with that round face and those fat cheeks. He was a few inches shorter than Stavros, made all the more clear when he strode over and stood directly in front of Stavros. “I think not.”

Stavros sighed. He wasn’t up to doing this right now. He didn’t get any sleep the night before, and he spent the entire plane ride figuring out a way to reclaim his sanity. He wasn’t up for ten rounds with this crazy fucker right now. Still, he shrugged as one of Felipe’s men patted him down, taking away his weapon and phone, and tossing them aside.

“What business do we have?” As if he didn’t know, right?

“You killed mi hermana.”

“Did I?”

Felipe cocked his head. “You did.” Hands in his pockets, he regarded Stavros closely. “I’m owed a debt, Mr. Konstantinou, but I’m willing to let it go.”

Sure. “What do you want?”

A wide smile creased Felipe’s face, but never made it to his cold eyes. “Nothing too difficult. I simply want you to finish what you started.”

“Meaning what?”

“Daniel Nieto has resurfaced from whatever hole he’d crawled into.” Hate practically dripped from every word Felipe spoke. “You were to finish him off that night you took my sister away.” His eyes glinted. “Kill him now.”

“I don’t work for you,” Stavros told him. “If Nieto has resurfaced, I’ll deal with him in my own way. In my own time.”

Felipe chuckled. “You mistake me, Mr. Konstantinou.” He shuffled closer, hands still his pockets. “You kill for profit, is that not what you do? Is that not the reason mi mamá is without her firstborn daughter right now? I could take revenge into my own hands, but I’m giving you a chance to fix what you broke. To set right everything you did wrong.” His voice didn’t go higher, but Stavros recognized danger when he saw it. “Despite money not changing hands, this is in every way a business transaction. You take care of my brother-in-law, and I don’t lay waste to you and your tío over there.” He nodded in Christophe’s direction.

Stavros barely refrained from rolling his eyes. He removed a cigarette and lighter from his jacket pocket without taking his eyes off Felipe. He’d been threatened by men way deadlier than Felipe Guzmán, and lived to tell the tale. The wannabe kingpin didn’t rattle him, not even the tiniest bit—especially not after having spent that bit of time in Daniel’s dungeon. “The fastest way to lose me is to threaten me.” He took a drag of the lit cigarette then blew out the smoke into Felipe’s face. “I don’t respond well to those.”

“I’d rethink that, if I were you.” Felipe watched him silently for a while. “Let me know when it’s done.” He left the office, his men trailing after him.

“What the hell was that?” Stavros glared at his uncle. “You couldn’t give me some kind of warning?”

Christophe shrugged. “They ambushed me and took away my phone.” He walked over to Stavros. “What are you going to do? And I thought you’d quit that shit?” He nodded at the cigarette.

Stavros snorted. He did quit, but he was thinking that had been a huge mistake. He’d been making a lot of those lately. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

Alarm widened his uncle’s eyes. “The correct answer would have been, he’ll be dead by sundown.” His jaw dropped and he stepped back. “You feel for him.”

They didn’t have to speak Daniel’s name for him to be in the room with them. Still, Stavros shook his head. “No.” He couldn’t. That would be impossible because he was heartless, and soulless, and he didn’t feel things for anybody except lust.

“Anipsiós.” Nephew. Christophe sighed. He always knew when Stavros was up to something. When he was lying, pretending, stalling. Like now. “What did you do in Seattle?”

His uncle was the man Stavros always wanted his father to be. The brothers looked so much alike, they’d occasionally be mistaken for twins. But with two years between Christophe and Haimon, looks were the only thing they had in common. Head still full of hair, now with more gray than black, Christophe was as tall as Stavros, body lean from his love of swimming. The lines on his face were earned from smiling, light blue eyes always twinkling even when he scolded.

Almost seventy, and he was still as spry as he’d been when Stavros was a boy.

“I have to go.” Stavros turned toward the door, but Christophe grabbed his arm.

“Stavros.” His tone scolded, much like when Stavros had been a teenager all those eons ago. “What did you do?”

“I fucked up,” he snarled. “Last night was—” He pulled away from Christophe’s hold, twisting around to meet the older man’s worried gaze. “Theíos,” his voice dropped to something barely above a whisper. “I’m in trouble.”

The last time he’d acknowledged that fact, he’d been twenty-one and filled with lust for his stepsister. Christophe had talked sense into him, helping him see how much of a bad idea it was. His uncle remained close to make sure Stavros didn’t ever go too far off the tracks. But this…

This.

“My boy.” Christophe pulled him into a hug, slapping his back. “Yes, you are.”

Nothing else to say. Christophe couldn’t help him this time around. Unlike the Annika situation, Stavros couldn’t hop on a plane to another continent to hide. That cowardice wouldn’t work twice.

Strange how he alternated between feeling freer than he’d ever been yet trapped by the connection between him and Daniel. Both sensations made him panic.

He went back to his place, dismissing Bruce who could never quite take the hint that Stavros wanted to be alone. He needed to think, needed to figure out a way to deal with Felipe Guzmán, and with himself. Because he was starting to feel things.

Like regret.

Like sorrow.

Like that thing he refused to name, the thing that came over him when Daniel Nieto looked at him. Touched him. Kissed him.

There weren’t many things he’d done in his life that he wished to do over. His father told him once that a man needed to be able to do introspection on himself. A man needed to be willing to face his actions and stand by them, good or bad. He needed to take responsibility, and be held accountable.

He wished he hadn’t taken that job. Petra Nieto might still be alive. Daniel Nieto might not be as fucked up as he was. If he asked for it, would Daniel forgive him? As conflicted as Stavros was, Daniel obviously fought an even bigger war inside himself.

Last night, Stavros gave him an excuse. He took away Daniel’s choice, made it so all the blame would be on Stavros. At least, he’d assumed as much. Except Daniel could’ve gotten away at any time. He chose to stay.

He chose to let Stavros take him.

He offered up himself.

That knowledge fucked Stavros’ head up more.

What did it mean?

Why did Daniel leave? Stavros didn’t want to resent that.

Didn’t want to feel rejected by that.

Because how do you forgive someone for taking away your wife? How do you forgive yourself for not protecting the woman you loved? How did you reconcile attraction to the person who stole your life?

He didn’t have the answers.

Now, on top of all this Daniel shit, he had to deal with Felipe Guzmán.

After taking a shower, he poured himself a drink and went into his office. Felipe wasn’t allowed to think for a second that he had the upper hand on Stavros. That shit was unacceptable. Daniel had him running scared, Stavros had seen it in Felipe’s eyes. He stood in Daniel’s way, and if what Stavros heard about Daniel was true, familial ties didn’t stand in the way of the man getting what he wanted.

He’d killed his father, according to rumors.

Felipe wanted Stavros to do his dirty work, and that wasn’t going to happen. Stavros no longer wanted Daniel Nieto dead, and even if he did, he’d long given up his role as assassin for hire. If and when he killed, he’d do it for himself. Not because some wannabe thought he had him by the balls.

His mind went to Daniel again, which it damn well shouldn’t. He’d never spent so much time thinking about anyone, man or woman. He liked to play, liked to keep a different face in his bed. It kept him from getting bored, and doing something utterly destructive like thinking about Annika.

Oh, he’d been in love. He’d just never had a true relationship.

Before Annika, there’d been Helayna, who he’d met on the beach in Mikonos at seventeen. It had been Stavros’ father who discovered Helayna had been assigned a male identity at birth, and it had been his father who chased her away, giving Stavros his first heartbreak.

Haimon Konstantinou saw Stavros’ happiness as a weakness, something to take his focus away from their mercenary business. Haimon wanted an empire, an untouchable empire. And he wanted Stavros at the helm. In his father’s mind, Stavros couldn’t do that while caring for anything more than money and power. He loved Stavros in his own way, of course he did. But that way was more often than not cold, and at a distance.

Two years after Helayna, Annika entered his life, and Stavros took one look at her and handed over his heart. Haimon considered Annika his daughter in every way, and when he caught Stavros watching her, his own father held a sword to his throat. Annika was off limits. The disgust on his father’s face said it all. And the threat he issued sealed the deal.

Touch Annika and Stavros gave up his claims to the business. It wasn’t until his father died that Stavros even realized that he never wanted the fucking business. He stayed because he sought approval from the old man. He sought that brief flash of pride that would brighten Haimon’s eyes when Stavros did his bidding.

Much as he wanted Annika, Stavros wanted that flash of pride more.

Annika didn’t care, though, she took his heart and used it as a leash to control him, tease him, and fuck with him. Anything she wanted, he gave. But he got nothing in return. She exerted control in sex, and she liked to make Stavros watch as she fucked and got fucked.

He liked it too. Living the deceitful illusion that when she closed her eyes as she rode another man that she was pretending to ride Stavros. That the name she called when she came was his. He provided her with men, engaged in orgies with her, and still, he never got close enough to touch her.

Even then, he loved her to blindness.

He mourned her death even when she betrayed him, putting a hit on one of Stavros’ ex-lovers and sending men to attack the man’s family. Annika should’ve known better. The former mercenary reciprocated, and in the aftermath three lives were lost, Annika, Haimon, and his wife.

Identifying as pansexual, he was attracted to people regardless of sex or gender, but Stavros wasn’t the person you went to in search of love. He was the one you went to if you wanted to be used and controlled, to be fucked and debased.

He tossed back the bourbon, grimacing. Last night wasn’t even the best sex. It wasn’t.

But it was, too. Because he craved it still. He felt every powerful thrust. Still. The taste of Daniel, the sound of him. They lingered, echoing.

Mocking.

He stared into his glass, searching for the truth of who he was now. Because he wasn’t the same man Daniel had stolen from his place in Lisbon. He wasn’t that man. This man, this man craved like a junkie did a needle. This man wanted. He needed.

His phone went off and he snatched it up from his desk, answering the security guard downstairs with a hoarse, “Yes?”

“Sir, Ms. Caynan is on her way up.”

He cleared his throat. “Thanks.” He hung up but didn’t move, only bothering to lift his gaze from the drink in his hand when he heard his private elevator open. Heels sounded on the floor then Tennyson appeared in his office doorway, a smirk on her gorgeous face.

“Missed me, lover?”

He hadn’t given her a second thought, but he smiled up at her. “Tenny, how are you?”

She strode into the room, clad in a white dress that was anything but simple on her curvy body. Reaching mid-thigh, the dress had a gold zipper running down the front, starting at her crotch and stopping just under the swell of her generous tits. Her skin, the richest onyx, glowed, and her hair—done this time in tiny braids—hung past her shoulders. She was soft everywhere, flexible too, and she eyed him now like a woman who’d had the privilege of seeing her cum all over his face.

“I was in the neighborhood,” she said. “Thought I’d drop in on you.” She smirked. “Make sure you were all right.”

He sat back, placing his glass on the desk. “I am always all right,” he lied smoothly. “Does Renzo Vega know you’re in New York?”

Tennyson worked for Stavros, and her job was to keep tabs on Atlanta club-owner Renzo Vega. The man wasn’t who he seemed to be, and Stavros didn’t like puzzles. So Tennyson worked in Vega’s club as a bartender. Originally, she was supposed to be in Vega’s bed, until they found out the man preferred his lovers to be more…male.

“The club is shut down for a while, so I have the weekend off.” She grinned and rounded the desk, placing her generous ass on the desk, next to Stavros’ drink. “Which is why my panties are also off.” She dropped a scrap of black lace atop the desk, then grabbed his hand and placed it between her legs.

Yep, just smooth, bare wet skin. He kept his hand still as he gazed up at her. “Why is the club closed?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. Maintenance?”

He pulled away from her and got to his feet, ignoring her frown. “I pay you to know everything that goes on at that club, Tenny. I want to know why a club as successful as Vega’s shuts down without notice, on a weekend no less.”

“Fuck.” She glared at him. “How do you propose I do that?”

He fisted her hair, yanking it back to expose her throat. “You’re a resourceful woman,” he whispered against her skin as he trailed a hand back up her thigh and between her legs. “I’m sure you can think of something.” He grazed her clit with his knuckles then retreated when she whimpered. “Maybe when you bring me answers, I’ll give what you came for.”

She shuddered then took a deep breath and hopped off the desk. “You’re lucky you pay me so damn much.” She walked out the office and he followed. “And that you lay pipe better than any plumber.”

He smiled as she got back onto the elevator. “Goodbye, Tenny.”

She scowled and flipped him her middle finger. He chuckled as the elevator doors closed. Tenny was fun, and always wicked in bed. As he turned back to the room, a movement to his right caught his eye and he pulled his gun, spinning around just as Daniel Nieto stepped out of the shadows.

“What…” He just stared, unable to process. His mind couldn’t keep up with his pulse, speeding, beating wildly. The. Fuck.

Daniel watched him with his unreadable dark eyes and smooth gaze, standing in the middle of Stavros’ condo as if he belonged, clad in his ever present black. Stubble on his chin, hickey on his neck.

Stavros’ hickey.

Jesus, he couldn’t think. Did Daniel know the power he held simply standing there, all his attention on Stavros?

“Is she your lover?”

Stavros blinked at the question, lowering his gun. “How did you get in?” He cleared the hoarse quality from his voice. He had guards downstairs. How did Daniel know which place belonged to Stavros? How had he gotten in?

“Is she your lover?”

Stavros found himself moving to him. Just, letting himself be pulled by the current, that magnetic thing that traveled between them. He fought it, yes he did, but not too hard. Feet in front of the other, he kept going until he was in Daniel’s face.

Close enough to feel his heat.

To smell his skin.

Jesus. Christ.

“Why are you here?” he rasped. He lifted his hand, spread his fingers then folded them slowly. A tight fist, nails biting into his palm as he struggled against reaching out, against touching Daniel’s throat, caressing the garrote imprint, a blatant sign that proclaimed Stavros’ failure and Daniel’s survival.

Daniel tilted his head back, gazing down at him with hooded eyes that didn’t quite hide the danger that was him. “You are here.”

Was he? Stavros didn’t feel it. How could he, when everything he felt was Daniel?

“The woman,” Daniel nodded to the elevator. “She is your lover?”

Stavros lost another battle, giving in to his need to touch Daniel. He slid his fingers down the other man’s throat then grasped him there. Not tight, but a hold Daniel felt all the same because he swallowed and his nostrils flared. “Not everyone I give my cock to is my lover,” Stavros murmured. “You should know.”

It was the wrong thing to say, he knew it, but he spoke the words anyway. He wanted a devastation, a severing of the hold Daniel Nieto had on him. He wanted a cure for the aches he hadn’t known existed, for the pain he hadn’t known he could feel.

He dropped his hand, fisting it again as he turned away.

“Do not.” Daniel’s warning chilled him, stopping Stavros in his tracks. “Do not.”

A tortured chuckle made its way past Stavros’ lips. “I can’t walk away, but you can?” he asked without turning around. “I can’t run away, but you can?”

“You wanted me gone.”

“Don’t tell me what the fuck I wanted.”

Jesus.

“Stavros.”

He heard that in his sleep. His name in that same obliterated tone, strangled with betrayal. Daniel’s betrayal of his dead wife. The wife Stavros killed. Even in his sleep, he found no relief from it. Betrayal, he choked on it.

He wanted to take just one breath that wasn’t filled with it.

Betrayal.

One kiss between them that didn’t taste of it.

“Mi papá had many vices,” Daniel spoke from behind him. “But the one I remember most was the drinking. He needed it first thing in the morning, bourbon in his coffee cup. He’d shake and tremble if he didn’t get it, diablo. I watched him fight and lose against that pull.” He paused and footsteps sounded as he moved closer. “You’re my bourbon. I can’t get you out of my veins.”

God. Damn. Stavros squeezed his eyes shut as heat washed across his nape. He didn’t want to hear this. He wanted to hold on to the anger, not fucking melt at the vulnerability Daniel just handed him.

“You should go.” Because he could. Daniel could leave. He could walk away. Stavros didn’t have that option.

“No.”

“Yes.” He spun to face Daniel. “You’re good at it. It’s what you do. You leave. You run.” He shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe you can outrun it, the lust, the hunger. The betrayal for feeling any of those things at all.”

A muscle in Daniel’s jaw flexed as he stood there so ominously shrouded in black. The quietest man Stavros had ever known. Face so serious. Eyes understanding, because he knew. He knew… “I am not leaving.”

“Why not?” Stavros laughed at him. “Do you like it, that helpless feeling? Not recognizing yourself in the mirror. Do you like it?”

“I know who I am.”

“Good for you.” He went closer to Daniel, dragging his knuckles over his jaw. “Good for you, because I don’t know who I am. I don’t know who I am, and you’re the reason.” He bent slightly, letting his lips touch Daniel’s. “You get to run away from it whenever you chose,” he whispered. “But I’m stuck trying to figure it out. Then you show up.” His fingers tightened on Daniel’s skin. “And that’s when I know.”

Daniel caught him then, yanking him close until they were pressed together. Fingers on Stavros’ chin, he tipped his face up. “What do you know?” He shook him. “Stavros, what do you know?”

“I am yours. To fuck. To torture. To kill. I am yours.” For some reason, the truth of those words were the saddest thing Stavros ever experienced.

* * *

“Lo siento.” The heaviness in Stavros’ eyes and words dragged the apologies from Daniel’s dry throat. “Lo siento.” So much apologizing lately, to Petra and now to Stavros.

Stavros’ lips tightened and he pulled away from Daniel’s touch, striding quickly back into his office. “Let yourself out.”

That wasn’t going to happen, Stavros had to know that. Daniel followed him, standing in the doorway as Stavros gave him his back, fiddling with something on his desk. Getting into the penthouse hadn’t been all that hard, not once he’d gotten close to the beautiful voluptuous woman in white.

“Stavros.” He liked saying the name, watching Stavros’ shoulders tighten every time. Sometimes he needed words and he couldn’t find them. Like now. If he had the words he’d beg forgiveness for leaving Stavros in that Seattle hotel room. For staying away for so damn long, when he wanted to be next to Stavros. He’d confess to being unable to separate who Stavros was, and what he’d done, from what Daniel felt.

He’d tell the man standing so stiffly a couple feet away that he saw him take his wife’s life every single time Daniel closed his eyes. He’d tell him it didn’t matter how far he ran or how long he denied himself, the bitter betrayal sitting like a cold brick on his chest still wasn’t enough to keep him away.

He didn’t have the words, except, “Lo siento.” He begged forgiveness from both Stavros and Petra.

“There’s no need to be sorry.” Stavros glanced back at him over his shoulder, eyes hard, expression cold. “It’s over. It’s done now.” He swallowed then returned his attention to the papers on his desk. “You can leave.”

It took everything, but Daniel went to him. Silent steps on the carpeted floor, until he was close enough to touch Stavros. He grabbed a fistful of Stavros’ hair, yanking his head back onto his shoulder. Stavros struggled. He always did, but Daniel used his other hand to lock around his throat.

“Is that truly what you want?” He tightened his hold. “Say it again, and I give it to you.”

Stavros shuddered against him, his body hard, the smell of him already so damn familiar. “Daniel.” He panted.

“I can leave,” Daniel whispered at his ear. “But it doesn’t matter how far or how fast I run.” The truth roughened his already destroyed voice. “I’ll always come back.”

Stavros’ struggling ceased and he dropped his hand, gripping Daniel’s thigh, fingers digging into him.

“I can’t say I don’t want you.” The words were coming now, and he couldn’t stop them. He released his hold on Stavros, nuzzling him, inhaling him as he dragged his lips along the column of his neck. “I can’t say I don’t need you. I’m very much the fool, caught in this moment with you, unwilling to walk away.”

Stavros twisted around in his arms until they were nose to nose, chest to chest. “We’re both fools,” he murmured. But his eyes asked Daniel not to leave, and he listened.

He kissed Stavros, pouring out his desperation and desires into the other man who grasped him tight, moaning into his mouth, licking at him. Daniel tugged on Stavros’ hair tighter, pulling his head backward as he plastered himself against the body shuddering against him. Hard and tight, and intimately hot.

A body he was familiar with, yet he still wanted to get to know it better.

Impatient hands roamed up and down his back, grabbing his ass, pulling him in tighter. Daniel groaned, tongue sliding over Stavros’. Teeth nicked him, fingers pinched him. He drowned in all of it, the sensations.

Disappearing.

He disappeared into Stavros’ mouth, into his touch. Falling faster and harder than he ever intended. He didn’t outrun the betrayal. No, it stayed with him, keeping pace with every thrust of his tongue into Stavros’ hot and wet mouth. Every tug on Stavros’ hair. Every roll of his hips that pushed him into Stavros’ body, erections grinding.

That betrayal turned what should have been gentle touches into something harder, darker. Hands that once destroyed him touched him now, tearing at his shirt, popping buttons, exposing his chest. Hot and rough, that touch as Stavros stroked his skin, fingers ghosting over the tattoo over his heart.

Her name.

Daniel tore his mouth away. Panting. Aching for so many things. He caught Stavros’ head in both hands, holding his gaze as Stavros’ touch dipped downward, past his torso.

“Do it.”

Stavros licked his wet lips and Daniel kissed him again. From that very first kiss to now, he tasted the same. Forbidden. Dark and sinful. Wild and dangerous. Everything Daniel craved. One taste hooked him, kept him leashed and dependent like an addict.

With his pants unbuckled and unzipped, they slid effortlessly to his knees as Stavros touched him. A tight grip on his cock.

Daniel threw his head back with a hoarse groan. One squeeze and his body went weak, knees knocking. Teeth gritted, he stepped back, stumbling, pushing Stavros back onto his desk. When Daniel wasn’t looking Stavros had also unbuttoned his shirt and it hung open. Under Daniel’s heavy-lidded scrutiny, Stavros unbuckled his pants and stepped out of them, teeth in his bottom lip.

Daniel touched him, sliding a hand down his front. Stroking his cock.

Stavros gasped for him, mouth opening as he panted, hips jerking, shoving himself fully into Daniel’s palm. He was hot, hard and pulsing. And Daniel liked it. Liked the pre-cum that beaded and dripped along his length, wetting Stavros and him.

“Daniel.”

Daniel lifted his gaze, meeting Stavros’ gaze. “Let me take you.”

Stavros’ Adam’s apple shifted. “Take whatever you want.”

“You.” That was what Daniel wanted, so he leaned in, burying his face in Stavros’ neck, stroking him still. Stavros snaked a hand between them, reciprocating. Cupping Daniel’s balls.

He groaned. Low and deep, because this man’s touch woke him up every single time. “Stav,” he moaned the name.

“Yes.” Stavros’ eyes popped open and he pulled away slightly. “Fuck. Shit. Wait.” He turned, laying over the desk, taut, naked ass exposed to Daniel as he yanked on the drawers on his desk. He tossed some condoms atop the desk.

And a bottle of lube.

When he moved to straighten, Daniel held him still with a hand on his nape. Another cupping his ass. He quickly grabbed the lube, squeezing out the thick gel-like substance into Stavros’ crack, before sliding his fingers through it.

“Mmm.” Stavros bent, forehead banging on the desk, ass tipped up. One leg hiked up onto the desk, opening himself for Daniel’s fingers.

He dipped into that valley then lower, pressing a finger into Stavros.

“Fuck.” Stavros grabbed onto the edges of the desk and rocked back on him. “Fuck.”

Daniel added another finger, stretching him, pushing inside. Stavros flinched.

“Oh fuck.” His body shook, muscles squeezing Daniel’s digits. “Harder. Please.”

Daniel grunted, adding more lube then another finger. Giving him harder, ramming his body up onto the desk. All the while Stavros cried out, begging for harder.

Calling his name.

This was an entirely new feeling. The power and control, watching Stavros take his fingers. Daniel bent, sinking his teeth into Stavros’ nape, licking him, tasting the salt and sex on his skin.

“Argh. Yes.” Inside, Stavros was fire, burning. Scorching.

Daniel wanted to feel it, wanted to get close to those flames. He ached to feel the fire, so he removed his fingers, tearing at the condom wrapper before he donned the protection. He stared at Stavros’ body for a moment, draped over the desk. He could take him like that, sink into him without looking into his eyes. But that made no difference.

He knew what he was doing. With whom. Didn’t matter if he took him like that or face to face, there’d be no escaping the truth of it. He stepped back, taking Stavros’ hand, turning him around before pulling him upward to a seated position at the edge of the desk.

Then Daniel kissed him. There was truth in this, both hands cupping Stavros’ ass, pulling him closer. The other man’s legs wrapped around his waist, their lips clinging to each other as Daniel brought his shaft to Stavros’ body and pushed in.

“Nnggh.”

He swallowed Stavros’ drawn out groan, eyes sliding shut as sensation wrapped around his length then sped upward. Breath was immediately in short supply. Heat washed over him. Wrapped so tight around him, he felt Stavros’ body vibrate.

Daniel tensed. His fingers, gripping tightly to Stavros’ hips were the only part of him moving, flexing against Stavros’ skin. Teeth sank into his bottom lip. Stavros biting him, hurting him, egging him on. He flexed his hips, sinking even deeper.

“Fuck,” Stavros groaned against his mouth.

Daniel pulled back then thrust in.

Stavros flinched. His ass clamped down on Daniel. “Yes.” He dragged his fingers down Daniel’s back. Sharp pain that kicked Daniel’s pulse into overdrive.

He slammed in again.

“Oh God. Daniel,” Stavros cried his name. “Dan—”

“Sí.” He licked Stavros’ nose. “Tell me.” What you want. What you need. What you feel.

“Oh God. Deeper.” Stavros’ lips were on Daniel’s throat, and with each word he spoke, he kissed him there. On his scarred flesh. “Deeper. Fuck.”

One hand on Stavros’ nape, the other on his right hip, Daniel went deeper. Harder. Stavros rode each thrust, panting against his throat, breath hot and gasping on his skin. A heavy groan left Stavros every time he sank onto Daniel, the hungry sound echoing around them. Taking over Daniel’s mind.

He fell.

If he’d ever been in grace’s favor, he fell. Teeth in Stavros’ skin, fingers gripping tight as he hung on, pounding into a body that fit around him like it was custom-made. Hot and so tight, contracting, squeezing him. All that pleasure, he dove into it ’til his body got weak. Giving Stavros what he asked for.

Deeper.

Harder.

The man who’d destroyed him before touched him now with fire. Consuming him. Fingers sinking into his chest, nails scraping at the tattoo of her.

Petra’s name over his heart, Stavros touched it, fingers clawing as Daniel slammed into him. They touched each other with hands covered in blood only they could see.

Forbidden sex, drenched in blood and betrayal. The perversity of it got him harder. Made him even thirstier. Mouth on Stavros, cock inside him, Daniel fell from grace. Happily. Hooded gaze on Stavros’ face, twisted in a blissed out grimace. Sweat on his skin, whisker burns on his throat, body writhing against Daniel’s. He was the same man under the influence of pleasure as he was under pain.

They’d given each other pain.

Now came the pleasure.

A movement between them stole his focus and he dipped his gaze, watching as Stavros stroked himself. His body contracted around Daniel, tightening. His legs trembled and his head dropped back, mouth opening as he arched, cum spraying between them.

Daniel took his mouth, tasting his orgasm, eating his cries, letting all of it pull him toward his own climax. His movements sped up, brutal and desperate.

Painful and raw.

Vision darkening, fingers clawing at Stavros. Biting, groaning, and shuddering as he poured out his release into the condom. Stavros’ muscles kept clenching, making Daniel’s cock jerk.

He collapsed onto Stavros. Shaking. Panting. Hands circled him. Lips brushed his temple. He couldn’t move, body spasming still. Stavros’ body was doing the same, but he made no move to get Daniel off him.

They clung to each other atop that desk.

Did Stavros feel as adrift as Daniel felt?