Page 85 of The Light Within

Julien leaned down, his lips brushing against Cinn’s ear. “Would you like that?” he murmured, his breath hot against Cinn’s skin. “Would you like them to see you like this, to know that you’re mine?”

Cinn whimpered in response, entirely incapable of speech.

A low, dangerous chuckle. “I thought so.” Julien’s fingers still moved inside Cinn, making it extremely difficult to think about anything else.

“Now, you’re going to come for me so I can take you back to the hotel room and fuck you properly.”

Cinn’s body responded to Julien’s words, wanting desperately to please him, warmth pooling at the base of his spine.

“Touch me,” Cinn finally got out between ragged gasps, his urgent plea hanging in the air.

For a moment, Julien paused, his fingers still buried deep within Cinn, the pressure on his prostate keeping him at the edge of a precipice he longed to fall from.

Cinn braced for Julien’s refusal, for him to insist he come untouched.

Then, fingers still curled inside him, Julien slid down the sofa, his mouth engulfing the entirety of Cinn’s length in one swift movement that caused hot tears of relief. Cinn watched through hooded eyes as Julien took him in, his lips stretching around his dick. The sight, the feel, was too much. His hips bucked upwards, unable to control the desperate urge to thrust. Julien’s hot mouth, the swirl of his tongue, consumed him, and the tightly coiled spring of his orgasm exploded, every single nerve in his body igniting as he came with a roaring cry, Julien popping him out of his mouth, and his cum painting his stomach in hot streaks.

Julien didn’t stop, his finger continuing its relentless assault on his prostate, drawing out his orgasm until he was nothing but a quivering, panting mess beneath him.

A sudden, unexpected sound from near the door.

The music had stopped. When had the music stopped?

Cinn jolted unpleasantly back to reality.

A reality where they were horrifically naked on the sofa of a jazz bar, covered in cum. Would this crime carry a longer prison sentence than breaking into the Eiffel Tower?

Cinn dragged himself up, peeking his head over the sofa. A figure in a navy blue uniform stood in the doorway, clutching a dishcloth to their chest. “This is not… a room!” she gasped, voice a mixture of flustered horror and confusion. “Get out!” Her eyes took in more of the scene before she sharply pivoted to thunder down the stairs.

They both jumped to their feet, to a floor sticky with spilled cocktail. Julien was visibly shaking with laughter as he pulled up his trousers.

“This isn’t funny,” snapped Cinn. Visions of the bar staff watching them do a very unique walk of shame had him groaning softly. “We’re going to have to walk right by them all now. I told you—”

Julien clamped a hand over Cinn’s mouth, his eyes sparkling with delight. “You worry too much. Come.”

He led Cinn to a window, the cool night air hitting them as they lifted it open. A back alley greeted them, a fair drop down.

“This isn’t a movie!” Cinn cried, visualising his bones shattering as they hit the concrete.

“How much longer do I have to wait until you blindly trust me?” Julien asked. “Because this is getting old.”

Cinn shoved Julien’s chest, finding his hands captured by Julien’s. He dragged Cinn further towards the window. “I’ll break our fall,” he said, kissing Cinn’s temple. “I promise.”

“What?!”

“I can hear them coming,” Julien warned, nodding towards the staircase.

The thought of dealing with a mob of angry staff pushed Cinn over the edge. Quite literally, as he and Julien jumped from the window into the night.

Firm fingers clutched his forearm. Cinn prepared for the sudden drop, bringing his legs up into a crouch. However, he didn’t plummet to his death as expected—with a loud roar, the air below them came alive,bursting upwards and slowing their descent. The wind cushioned their fall to the point Cinn was a leaf gliding down to earth on a gentle breeze.

I’m flying. Sort of.The closest he’d ever get, and he had to admit—it was pretty incredible.

Regardless, Cinn’s heart still pounded as his feet hit the ground, fear coursing through his veins as he continued to grip Julien’s forearm.

Julien chuckled to himself in a way that was about to get him punched before sliding his hand into Cinn’s, tugging him into a sprint. Cinn could barely think straight, barely understood where they were going until the hotel came back into view, just around the corner, as Julien had promised.

The journey to their room was a daze, Cinn’s mind scrambled from the several back-to-back adrenaline rushes he’d just endured. Before he knew it, the pair of them were in their room’s extravagant bathroom, Julien had turned on the tap for the tub, and then returned his attention back to Cinn in an instant, to share frantic kisses as intense as their escape had been.

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