Page 61 of The Fake Divination Offense
His head throws back with a staccato cry as I lick at one of the places where the chain rests on his collarbone, and I’m quick to slam my lips back over his.
“You gotta be quiet for me, all right?” I ask. “Can you do that?”
Eyes shut, he gasps into my mouth. “I can be quiet.”
He’s squirming as he says it, restlessly thrusting, yanking at my shoulders, and when I stop rocking against him, he whines in a high, frustrated pitch.
I grin. “You sure about that?”
Another frustrated whine. “Yes. Yes, I promise. I can be good. I can be so good for you.”
My hips stutter forward of their own volition.
“Fuck, Alexo,” I groan, head dropping to his shoulder. “You can’t just say stuff like—”
“No.”
I pull back. He’s not squirming anymore, stationary, and it’s enough of a contrast that I’m instantly alert.
But he’s not pushing me away. He’s looking up at me, breathless determination warring with uncertainty.
I brush my thumb against his hip bone. “What’s wrong?”
“Can you—” He winces. “Can you not call me that? Not while we’re—doing this.”
Call him what? Alexo?
Huh.
I offer him a smile. “Would you prefer Alexo the Magnificent?”
Confusion breaks him out of his net of emotion like I hoped it would, and he rolls his eyes. “Oh gods. My karaoke name? Really?No, that’s not what I meant. Can you… call me something else? When we’re like this.”
I bump my nose against his. “Okay. Gimme a sec.”
Babyis out—Seb and Thio call each other that.Sweetheart?Not too bad. Or maybe something with his hair—Pink? Meh.
What have the press called us? Oroxo? Or, wait—Beauty and the Beast.
“What about Belle?” I ask.
He’d been immobile since asking his question. But he tenses now, winding up, and the way he gapes at me is—afraid? No. Baffled?
“The reporters,” I explain quickly. Is he offended by it? “They called us Beauty and the Beast. So, Belle. That was her name in the movie, right?” Gods, it’s been years since I saw it.
But Alexo nods, and I think his eyes are tearing. Or maybe it’s the shit lighting in here making him look glassy and fraying.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Belle. Call me Belle.”
“All right.” I lean in. “My Belle.”
The air disappears between us. What little there was left. I’m not sure what’s changed—everything’s trapped in quiescence on the surface, but something’s roiling within him, and it sucks me in, has me pressing a kiss to his lips like an inevitability.
He doesn’t whine this time. Doesn’t claw at me. It’s slow and sweet, his mouth parting and moving under me in drowsy palpitations, both of us just—justfeeling.
Before I can resume my trail down his body, he squirms again so determinedly I peel back and allow him to sink to his knees.
Breath yanks out of my chest. “I was going to—”
