“Be careful in Chicago,” Jono said, his voice coming out low.
“Would you believe me if I said I was always careful?”
Jono pressed his thumb against the edge of Patrick’s jaw, tilting his head back farther. “You’re a bloody liar.”
“Good poker face though.”
“I’d like your face”—Jono’s other hand slipped between his legs—“and your cock, and all the rest of you, to come back in one piece.”
Patrick licked his lips, canting his hips into Jono’s touch. “Asking for a miracle.”
“Pat.”
“I’ll do my best. Now shut up and kiss me.”
Jono obliged in the best way, stealing the breath from Patrick’s lungs, caging him in against the door. Jono kept Patrick there with a hand around his throat that had broken bones in dozens of fights but would never break his. Jono’s preternatural strength was a turn-on for Patrick and always would be. There was something about finding safety in a man who could pick up a car and throw it when the need arose, then turn around and touch Patrick with a gentleness he’d rarely been given in his life.
Patrick tangled his fingers in Jono’s shirt, pulling him closer. Jono moved his hand against Patrick’s throat until he could press his wrist against the pulse point there. Patrick couldn’t smell the scent that lived in Jono’s skin and which he knew was seeping into his. The pack scent was something Jono pressed into his skin every day, and this moment was no different.
“Need to pack my suitcase,” Patrick muttered against Jono’s mouth.
Jono nipped at Patrick’s bottom lip before sinking to his knees. The smile that curved his mouth was positively filthy. “So go pack.”
Patrick banged his head against the door and swore. “Like I’m going anywhere when you’re looking at me like that. What kind of willpower do you think I have?”
“You’re the most stubborn bloke I know.”
“Not when it comes to you.”
Which was true in a way that would’ve made Patrick panic even six months ago. Now, it left him feeling like he didn’t want to be anywhere else but here. He reached out and ran his fingers through Jono’s black hair, pushing it out of his eyes. Jono’s smile shifted into a teasing smirk before he undid Patrick’s belt and pulled down the zipper on his jeans.
Patrick spread his legs, his dagger and service pistol weighing down the right side of his clothes, but the thigh straps ensured they wouldn’t slide down. Jono made no move to get him completely undressed. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth over Patrick’s quickly dampening underwear. Jono sucked at his cock through the thin material, the scrape of spit-soaked cotton a tease against sensitive skin that made Patrick’s nerves buzz with want.
Jono mouthed his cock through his underwear for another minute or so until he finally got tired of the flimsy barrier. Jono pulled down his underwear to free his half-hard cock, tucking the elastic band under his balls. He licked roughly at the head of Patrick’s cock. Patrick sucked in a breath that got stuck in his throat when Jono swallowed him down.
Patrick could feel Jono’s breath against the skin of his stomach, and he moaned when Jono swallowed. The tight constriction around his cock that came and went had him tightening his hold on Jono’s hair. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to yank Jono off or drag him closer, and settled for just holding on as Jono took him apart with embarrassing ease.
“Is this because we didn’t get a lie-in today and now I’m leaving?” Patrick gasped out, hips circling to push his cock deeper into the wet, willing heat of Jono’s mouth.
Jono pulled off him, which wasn’t what Patrick wanted at all, and he tugged pointedly at Jono’s hair. Jono huffed out a laugh, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of Patrick’s cock.
“I want the god pack in Chicago to know who you belong to when you go before them.”
Patrick shivered at those words, moaning loudly when Jono dragged his tongue up the length of his cock before sucking at the tip. “Pretty sure that won’t be a problem.”
Jono didn’t respond, choosing instead to swallow Patrick back down. Patrick pressed his shoulders against the door, fingers tightening on Jono’s hair and shoulder. He swore when Jono tugged on his balls, playing with them. Warmth pooled in his belly as everything narrowed down to his cock and Jono’s mouth and how badly he wanted to come.
The apartment felt almost too warm, but Patrick figured it was just him. He tried to thrust deeper into Jono’s mouth, but Jono pressed his hips against the door, pinning him in place. Patrick whimpered, half curling over Jono as his cock throbbed between Jono’s lips.
It was easy to let go like this, to let Jono draw out his pleasure with lips and tongue and the knowing touch of his hands. Jono knew what Patrick liked, what made him come apart at the seams, and it wasn’t long before he was coming down Jono’s throat, shivering through his orgasm.
“Jono.”
Moments like this—safe in Jono’s hands—felt like a prayer when Patrick didn’t believe in them.
Jono pulled off and rose to his feet, still holding Patrick’s softening cock in one hand. At some point he’d undone his own jeans, and his hard cock pressed against Patrick’s stomach, making a mess on his skin. Patrick let his forehead fall against Jono’s shoulder as Jono started to jerk himself off, breathing in the smell of them.
Jono shifted against him, and Patrick lifted his head, breath catching in his throat when Jono’s teeth scraped against the side of his neck. The pressure sharpened but didn’t break skin when Jono came, hot cum falling over Patrick’s spent cock. He hissed when Jono rubbed it into his sensitive skin, smearing it over his balls.
“I’m not flying with your dried cum on me,” Patrick muttered.
Jono licked at his throat, the touch making Patrick wish they had more time to get undressed and mess up the bed.
“You can shower. My scent will still be on you.”
Patrick tugged Jono down for a kiss that tasted like a mix of both of them. When they broke apart, Patrick gently scratched at the back of Jono’s neck. “Pack my suitcase?”
“Of course.” Jono pressed a kiss against his temple. “Love you.”
Life was easier these days with someone else to lean on. Patrick didn’t know what he’d find in Chicago, but he knew home would be waiting for him when he came back.
Patrick shoved the TSA badge, a set of janitor keys, someone’s paper boarding pass, and a lanyard with LaGuardia printed on it into his jacket pocket, fingertips glowing from a look-away ward. Sparks of his magic twisted through the air in their immediate area as the ward directed everyone’s attention away from them.
“I told you to keep your hands to yourself when we went through security,” Patrick hissed.
“Maybe people shouldn’t leave stuff lying around waiting for someone to take it,” Wade muttered.
“They were wearing the damn things!”
Wade shrugged, gaze darting around as they walked through O’Hare, apparently unrepentant of his thieving ways. “I want a hot dog.”
Patrick rolled his eyes and kept walking. “I spent fifty dollars on the plane feeding you. Can we get out of O’Hare first?”