Page 50 of Wicked Games

“Why did you miss me?” I ignore the mounting desire snaking through me and the nearly overwhelming urge to roll him over and fuck his mouth until I come down his throat again.

As much fun as that would be, I hold back. Not for any altruistic reasons, but because it’s so much better when he fights back. It would be too easy to take advantage of his drugged-up state, and he won’t even remember it in the morning. That takes all the fun out of this game we seem to be playing.

He doesn’t answer; he just sighs and brushes his lips over my pec. It’s not a kiss, not really, but goosebumps erupt on my arms and chest as his stubble catches on my skin.

“Have I been gone for a long time?” I ask, still trying to figure out who Teddy is and why Felix wants to snuggle him.

He huffs out a disgruntled sound. “So long.”

“I’m here now.”

I’m not a cuddler, but I don’t hate having him wrapped around me like this. Maybe it’s the solid weight of his muscles and the hard lines of his body reminding me he’s big and strong and I don’t have to be careful with him that make it easier to relax.

I can push and pull as much as I want because he can take it. And more than that, he can dish it right back to me.

No one has ever been able to match my energy, and not only is he not afraid of me, he enjoys seeing just how far he can push me until I lose my shit.

After years of dealing with his passive-aggressive bullshit and that damn robot mask, it’s exhilarating to see him give in to his emotions and embrace the chaos that comes with accepting who you are.

And I can’t deny that there’s something incredibly satisfying about being the only one who sees this side of him.

“Yeah, you are,” he mumbles sleepily.

“Why do you need my help falling asleep?” I ask softly.

He shifts so his head is on my shoulder and he can press his nose against my neck. “You smell different.”

“Different?”

“It’s nice.” He sniffs a few times. “I like it.”

“Why do you need help falling asleep?” I repeat.

I have no clue how lucid he is or if anything he’s saying is actually an answer and not just word salad from being fucked up, but he seems responsive.

“Because they’re back,” he whispers.

“What’s back?”

“The dreams.” He throws himself over me and wraps himself around me like I’m his lifeline. “I hate them.”

His skin is warm, and it’s only then I realize that Felix is completely naked and I’m in a thin pair of briefs.

His cock is soft, but mine isn’t, and feeling all of him pressing against me like this isn’t helping my situation.

“It’s okay.” I rub circles on his back and press a soft kiss against his cheek. “You’re okay.”

I have no fucking clue where this tender side is coming from, but it’s hard to be mean to someone who’s literally clinging to you and begging you to save them from their nightmares.

He relaxes and grows heavier on me.

“Please don’t let go,” he whispers. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah. I promise,” I say, my voice gruff.

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