A groan rumbled deep in Rekkan's chest, and a shudder ripped through him. His jaw clenched, an audible clack of teeth.

His composure crumbled.

The moment his hands left the wall, I felt them all over me. Twisting through my hair, raking down my back, cupping my ass. Somehow I left the ground, and my legs wrapped around his waist, my thighs clamping over solid muscle. Our lips collided in a messy series of kisses, lips on lips, teeth on teeth, tongue on tongue. He kissed a trail down my jaw to my neck and mumbled gasping words into my shoulder.

"Bed. We should... bed."

I murmured something vaguely affirmative and licked the skin just below his ear.

Rekkan stumbled toward the door and threw it open, staggering through the entrance as though drunk.

I started to laugh, but when my eyes took in the kitchen, my breath caught in my throat. "Oh, fuck."

Flies buzzed over heaped trash, thick goo coated the stove, and jagged pockmarks marred the wooden table. Even the ceiling had not escaped damage, the straight lines interrupted by a broken, sagging log.

Tears stung my eyes, blurring the atrocious sight.

Rekkan locked his hands together over the small of my back and withdrew just far enough to meet my eyes. "Zaf?"

My voice choked. "Your kitchen."

His eyes remained on mine, voice soft. "I know. It's fine."

I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood. "It was beautiful, and now it's ugly. All because of me."

"Hey." He lifted one hand from my back to brush away the tears below my eyes, and a gorgeous half-smile curved his lips. "I don't see anything ugly."

A spurt of laughter eased the tension in my throat. "For not being good at people, you sure can be a huge suck up."

He buried his laugh in my shoulder again, breath tickling the kissed-wet skin. "Is that a problem?"

"Fuck no."

He carried me toward the door, kicked it open, and trudged down the hallway. Another kicked door, and we entered the master bedroom.

Rekkan lowered me onto the bed and slipped the backpack off my shoulders, carefully placing it on the bedside table. The glass jar inside met wood with a dull clunk. Then Rekkan pulled off his own backpack and rummaged inside, drawing out a large bottle and a small box.

My eyes widened. "Where did you find those?"

"Before I left, the doctors asked if there was anything else they could do for me."

I shot him a withering scowl. "And you asked for lubricant and condoms?" But then a wicked smile fought its way onto my lips. "So you were also thinking about celebrating."

"Zaf, I've been thinking about celebrating all month." His fingers swept the curls from my forehead gently, but his voice was deep and rough. "You sitting at my bedside all this time, waiting patiently, taking care of me... it was..."

I waited for the rest of the sentence. When he failed to finish, I prompted, "Good? Or bad?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. But it made me fantasize about what I would do once I was less incapacitated and could get you alone. How I would fuck you. How I would make you drown in pleasure."

Voice choked, I said, "Good, then. Sounds good to me."

A chuckle so rich, so decadent, I could almost taste it. A bare second passed in silence. Then at the same time, we grappled with each other's clothing. Tugged off jackets. Unbuttoned pants. Yanked shirts over heads.

When the clothes flumped to the floor beside the bed, Rekkan's hot gaze roamed over my body, and I admired his. The sculpted bulk of his chest, the defined abs, the narrow, muscular hips. The powerful thigh and sleek metal substitute. Even the new leathery pink scars just added contour and character.

Not like the hideous marks on my poorly-defined chest.

The moment that old seed of self-doubt took root, Rekkan's eyebrows drew together.

"We don't have to do this, you know," he said softly.

I swallowed and shook my head. "It's not that. It's just that you're gorgeous, and I'm..."

My father's words seeped through the carefully-constructed walls in my mind. Ugly, pathetic, worthless—

"Perfect," said Rekkan. He pushed down the mattress on either side of me, and his lips found mine again, a tender peck. "So." He kissed my neck. "Fucking." His tongue lapped at the place his lips had been and then swept over my chest and down my stomach. "Perfect."

The bare brush of wet tongue left goosebumps in its path. His mouth closed over me, and waves of heat followed each stroke of his tongue. Without stopping, he fumbled for the bottle beside him, popped the cap off with a thumb, and poured a generous quantity onto his fingers.

"Rekkan, you really don't need that much—"

I cut off with a gasp as his fingers slipped between my exposed asscheeks. A cold, wet finger skirted the ribbed circle of muscle.

"You were saying?" he murmured, breath spilling hot on my wet skin.

"Was I saying something? I don't remember."

"Ah."

This 'ah' oozed self-satisfaction, a kind of winner's strut even more obnoxious than his usual skepticism, but I couldn't summon any irritation. Eyes still on mine, he slipped one finger inside. I had experienced enough penetrations to know what to expect, but this was different somehow. His touch was at once invasive and cautious, possessive and deferential. I didn't just accept the invasion... I craved it.

When he pushed in deep and hooked the finger, I hissed a breath and fisted the sheets at either side of me.

"Rekkan."

"Mm."

The rumble of his mouth still on me almost sent me over the edge. I clasped both sides of his head and yanked him off of me. The wet pop of his losing suction was almost obscene.

"I want you inside me before I..."

"Ah."

Now that 'ah' I liked, a perfect mix of adoration and exhilaration. The finger slipped free, a wrapper tore, and a new pressure teased the entrance, much bigger than the last.

But as I drew in a breath to prepare, the pressure disappeared. My gaze traveled up to meet his. His jaw locked tight and forehead creased.

A sliver of unease diluted my lust. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm just worried about..." He averted his gaze, jaw working. "I don't want to hurt you, Zaf."

"You won't hurt me."

"You promise you'll tell me if anything doesn't feel good?"

I traced a thumb over his forehead, smoothing the skin. "Yeah, Rekkan. I promise."

With trembling restraint, he pushed inside.

I whimpered at the sensation, at once familiar and utterly foreign. Rekkan's eyes never left mine, dark with lust but also overly attentive, almost afraid. The careful slowness only heightened the intensity of every feeling—his navel sliding along my shaft, the pressure and fullness inside of me.

Rekkan stopped with a low growl. "Can you stop making those sounds?"

I blinked to clear the haze of lust, though I was still hyper-aware of the throbbing fullness inside of me. "Sounds? What sounds?"

"You keep moaning."

"And that bothers you?"

He breathed a shaky laugh. "You're turning me on too much."

A smile crept up my lips. "Oh, really? I like that. I like turning you on too much."

He shook his head. "You won't like it for long."

"Fine, I'll try to stop."

He shifted slightly. Before I could stop myself, I moaned again.

Rekkan clapped a palm over my mouth. "Stop!"

I licked his palm.

And felt his warm seed fill the condom.

"Oh, fuck." He slipped down to cage me with his elbows, his sweaty chest flush against mine. "That was..."

"Amazing," I sighed.

He hissed an exhale. "I barely lasted three minutes."

"I'm sure it was at least four."

A chuckle burst from his chest, deep and dark. He dropped a kiss to my forehead and rolled onto his side next to me, fingers tracing my glistening ochre skin.

"Honestly, it's..." He hesitated, licking his lips. "Been a while since I've done that."

I nodded. "For me too. Three months, I guess. How long has it been for you?"

He huffed a single beat of laughter. "Longer."

"How long?"

"Eight."

"Eight months?"

"Uh..." His cheeks pinkened. "Years."

My eyes widened. "Oh. That is a long time." I flashed a smile and squeezed his hand over my chest. "Next time, I'm sure you'll last longer."

"Maybe next time, you should top."

My body processed before my mind could, a delicious squeeze of my belly and a twitch of my still-hard cock. When my mind caught up, I furrowed my brow and studied him, sure I would find a teasing smile on his lips.

His gaze was serious.

"Have you... done that before?" I tried—and failed—to keep my voice even. "Has another man...?"

"Nope."

"But you think you'd enjoy it?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "If you'll be making sounds like that, I'll enjoy anything."

* * *

Two weeks later, we sat in a mostly-restored kitchen. A fresh tablecloth from a free-shopping excursion hid the pockmarks in the hard oak table. Evening sunlight spilled through a high window, washing the room in pastel hues. Fluffy rustled through leaves in a cracked fish tank nearby.

It would have been the perfect start to Spring—and a perfect birthday for Rekkan—if not for the bitter, burnt odor and the deformed brick of failure at the table's center.

I slumped to the back of my chair and tipped my head toward the ceiling. "Why can't we just throw it away?"

Rekkan jabbed the lump on his plate, and his knife sawed beside the fork, scritch-scritch, scritch-scritch. "You found a recipe and ingredients to bake a cake for me. At least let me try it."

"You'll probably break a tooth."

"I'll take my chances."

He popped a chunk in his mouth. I groaned and dropped my face into my hands, unable to watch.

Twenty seconds of chewing and one pronounced swallow later, he said, "It's not that bad."

I separated two fingers to raise an eyebrow at him. "It's as hard as a rock and just as flavorful."

"Well, yes. But it has a nice... color."

"It's brown."

"A very nice brown."

I dragged my hand down my face and let it flop to the table, rattling the plates and silverware. "This has got to be your worst birthday ever."

His hand snaked over to cover mine. "Honestly, after all of those big, fake birthday parties my uncles and aunts used to throw for me, I've been happy not to celebrate at all." He averted his gaze, and his tongue pushed up against his top teeth. "But this... this is..."

I leaned toward him, eyebrows raised. "This is what?"

He expelled a breath and shook his head. "You'll call me a suck up again."

A smile overtook my lips, cake frustrations forgotten. "No, seriously, what were you about to say?"

Rekkan flipped my hand palm-up and played with my fingers. "We should start planning what to plant in the garden."

"That is definitely not what you were about to say."

"Fresh vegetables will be good. Then I can cook better food for us. And one day when it's warm enough, we can have a picnic."

My heart skipped a beat, and my mouth dropped open an inch. I studied Rekkan for confirmation of his meaning, but his eyes remained on our joined hands, shoulders relaxed.

"A picnic?" To my dismay, my voice cracked.

He shrugged. "Why not?"

"I just... you said... about the picnic..."

Knuckles rapped on the front door.

My breath caught in my throat. I side-glanced Rekkan, eyes wide. "Rekkan... who is that?"

Rekkan yanked his hand free from mine, bolted to his feet, and snagged the rifle propped in the corner of the room. Metal clicked as he removed the safety. Out of the corner of his mouth, he murmured barely audible words.

"Get out of here, Zaf."

I fumbled for my switchblade. "The Cutthroat Crew?"

"Maybe."

"But why would they knock on the—"

A key clinked against metal, a tiny sound that rang through the silent kitchen. The knob turned, and the door cracked open.

A large man sidled through the doorway. Silver streaked his dark blond hair and beard, and a layer of fat padded his broad frame. In his callused hands, he clutched a round tupperware.

Rekkan lowered his gun and clicked the safety back on, but his shoulders remained stiff and face hard. "What the fuck are you doing here, Mekkar?"

Mekkar plucked the lid off the tupperware, revealing a triple-layer cake with smooth white frosting. Blue icing looped over the top, scattered with a rainbow of sprinkles. When I drew my gaze up to stare at him, his eyes fixed on Rekkan. A wavering smile pinched his face, and forced cheer strained his voice.

"Am I not allowed to visit my favorite nephew on his birthday?"