The Light Within (Shadow and Light Duology #2)

27. Cinn

twenty-seven

Cinn

E xhausted wasn’t a strong enough word for how tired Cinn felt after the roller-coaster of the last two days.

Cinn and Julien ended up back at Cinn’s house after all, upon Darcy pointing out that staying at her cottage had the unfortunate side effect of endangering her as well.

Once they’d climbed into bed, Cinn refused point-blank to leave his bed before noon the next day, and then only left his room to cook or smoke.

Julien spent the day at the windowsill, twitching the curtain back every five seconds to survey the road, awaiting the imaginary next round of assailants.

By nightfall, Cinn lost his patience.

“Enough! If they come, they come. They’re hardly going to walk down the road all obvious, are they?”

Julien heaved a sigh. He drew the paisley curtains closed, then put his hands in the pockets of the hoodie he’d ‘borrowed’ from Cinn back in London. There was no claiming it back now. Julien wore it religiously anytime they were in the house. Cinn had, so far, done an exceptional job of not teasing him about it. Probably because the sight of him in it, while deeply amusing, filled Cinn with a quiet warmth—his chest felt strangely light, like he was in on a joke only the two of them understood.

With a pout, Julien said, “I’m not sure this is how you show appreciation to the person you love who is trying to keep you safe. ”

Cinn adopted a pointedly confused expression. “Who said anything about love ?”

A stray pillow found its way into Julien’s hands, then Cinn’s face.

On the bed, Cinn lazily swung his leg around to lie on his side. “Oh, right, yeah, you did mention something about that. A few times, actually.”

One moment Julien was by the window, and the next, he’d pounced on Cinn, pushing him backwards, pinning him to the bed with his full body weight.

“I don’t care how many times I’ve said it.” Julien’s eyes were dark, his expression deadly serious.

Cinn stilled, captivated by the curve of Julien’s lips, the flash of his dimples.

“I am…” Julien’s hand gently brushed Cinn’s hair from his forehead. “Quite frankly…” He leaned down, his breath warm against Cinn’s lips. “So fucking in love with you, it hurts.”

Cinn’s heart stuttered at the thick emotion clouding Julien’s voice. “But I don’t want it to hurt,” Cinn whispered. And then, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know, mon amour, ” Julien replied, his voice thick with sincerity, and Cinn relaxed, pulling his apparently sappy-as-fuck boyfriend down to capture his lips.

As their mouths met, Cinn’s chest became aglow with a starburst of affection that threatened to overwhelm him.

Julien’s lips were soft, pliant, moulding perfectly to the contours of his own. The kiss said more than Cinn could ever put into pretty words for Julien. It spoke of promises, of tomorrows, of all the futures they might have together.

Cinn’s eyes fluttered closed, lashes sweeping against his cheeks, as he poured every ounce of his devotion, his love, his very soul, into the press of their lips. Julien made a low hum, a needy sound, the vibrations thrumming against Cinn’s mouth.

This feeling he’d forever savour—the velvety feel of Julien’s lips on his, the vanilla taste of the chocolate chip cookies Cinn had baked for him earlier. Cinn could drown in this feeling. Was drowning in it. Cinn reached to find Julien’s hips, fingertips digging into the firm muscle. He needed to anchor himself—he was submerged, blissfully so, in the feel of Julien, the taste, the scent.

They kissed, and kissed, and kissed, until the world fell away, until there was nothing but the slide of their lips, the rasp of their breaths, the thrum of their racing hearts. Cinn’s lungs burned. His head spun, but he didn’t care. Not when Julien was kissing him like he was the very air he needed to survive.

Cinn’s lips were swollen, almost painfully so, when Julien finally drew back. He chased their absence, not ready to be done with the intoxication they offered, but Julien gentled him, pressing their foreheads together.

Julien trailed kisses to Cinn’s ear before taking his lobe between his teeth. He slid his hand down to Cinn’s tracksuit bottoms.

“Wait.” Cinn caught Julien’s hand with his. “I want to… Can I fuck you?” He cringed at the crassness. “I mean, can I… make love to you?” Even worse. Cinn’s face burned in horror at his own awkwardness. Where had this even randomly come from? He’d been enjoying the sex he had with Julien, enormously so. But a sudden overwhelming urge to experience everything with him had him asking the question.

Julien shook with laughter above him.

“Hey!”

Abruptly, Julien pulled back, the dim light revealing a flush of surprise colouring his cheeks. He pressed his finger to Cinn’s lips, mirth sparkling in his eyes. “Shh. I’m sorry. But your face, though.”

Cinn’s ever-so-amusing face scowled at Julien .

“ Oui ,” Julien said, and it took Cinn a moment to realise he was answering him. “I would love that, mon amour .”

Cinn swallowed, attempting to calm his stuttering heart.

“But, two conditions.” Julien ran his hand down Cinn’s bare chest, brushing his fingers around the shape of each tattoo that he surely knew from memory. “One. First I get to worship this beautiful body you’ve given me the privilege of loving.” Cinn’s skin prickled in anticipation, his body already responding to the promise in Julien’s words.

“And the second?” he asked, breathless.

“I’m still on top.”

The wink Julien gave him would ordinarily have infuriated him, but Cinn was well and truly under Julien’s spell now.

Biting his bottom lip, Cinn nodded. Julien slipped out of his clothes, folding his stolen hoodie carefully before placing it on a chair. The room was warm—Cinn was continuing to take advantage of his free heating—yet an intense shiver shot through him at the sight of Julien’s body uncovered, his cock already semi-erect.

Julien slowly peeled off Cinn’s tracksuit bottoms, revealing his own hardening, aching length. Coiling his hand around it, Julien lightly stroked it before pressing his lips against it, mouthing up, then down. Cinn’s cock gave a throb of appreciation, his hips coming up to meet Julien.

“Are you going to make it really good for me?” Julien’s voice asked, a low growl that went straight to Cinn’s groin.

“Yes,” was all Cinn could rasp in reply. Besides still being on top, Julien clearly had no intention of stopping the dirty talk Cinn found immeasurably arousing, even if he didn’t have it in him to reciprocate.

Julien engulfed his dick in response, surrounding it with rapturous wet heat. His tongue flattened, pushing up against the sensitive skin.

Cinn gasped, thrusting up to meet Julien’s mouth. His boyfriend chuckled around his cock, then slid it out of his mouth, giving the tip a strong suck as he did so. Julien flashed Cinn his brilliant white teeth, before climbing up his body, his hand quickly replacing his mouth before Cinn had a chance to vocalise his complaint.

Languid, delicate strokes followed. Cinn opened his mouth, a deep moan escaping, only to be swallowed up by the beautiful man on top of him. Slipping one arm around Julien’s back to press against the curve of his spine, Cinn cupped the back of Julien’s head, tangling his fingers in Julien’s riot of blond waves, already a mess from their kissing. He dug his nails into Julien’s scalp and was rewarded with a throaty hum.

Julien dipped his head, his mouth skimming along the line of Cinn’s collarbone, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. His hands mapped the planes of Cinn’s body as reverent and worshipful as he promised, reducing Cinn to a trembling mess. His tattoos, his scars, passing tenderly over each of his healing wounds, the dips and curves of his muscle. Goosebumps rose in the wake of Julien’s fingertips exploring every inch of his skin.

“ Si beau, ” Julien murmured, almost to himself. “I want you to be mine. All mine.” A thimble of desperation leaked into his words.

It felt wrong, Julien’s small sliver of insecurity. All Cinn wanted was for it to disappear, to never return. He wanted every point where Julien touched him to be a brand, searing his skin. “I am yours,” Cinn said, voice rough. “All of me, every part. You can have all of me, Julien. I’m yours, yours, yours …” The words poured out of him, a litany, a promise.

How had Julien already reduced him to this? He wasn’t even inside Julien yet, and already he felt drunk on sensations, on the feel of Julien’s body against his, the slide of his thighs against his own.

Julien’s eyes glowed, pupils blown with desire. He pushed himself into Cinn, sliding their dicks deliciously together, eliciting another gasp from Cinn. “I can’t wait any longer,” he said suddenly, reaching for the top drawer of the nightstand .

Julien reached for the lube, but Cinn was quicker, his hand closing around the bottle. “Let me.” He pried it from Julien’s grasp.

Though Julien’s eyes widened, he swiftly obeyed, sliding off Cinn, dipping the mattress with his weight. A small, hesitant smile crossed his lips. Trusting. Vulnerable.

“I’ve got you.”

Julien tipped his head back to face the ceiling. When the wet heat of Cinn’s tongue pressed against his entrance instead of cold lube, Julien’s back arched off the bed. Cinn flattened his tongue, sending it exploring the entire length of Julien’s crack. Then he licked circles around and around the edge of Julien’s hole.

“Fuck! What are you doing?” Julien rasped.

Cinn didn’t respond, too focussed on his task. Cinn pushed Julien’s knees up higher, his tongue swirling around Julien’s rim, the tip breaching him slightly before retreating. His pointed tongue met resistance at first, then Julien’s ring relaxed.

Julien hissed in pleasure, clutching madly at Cinn’s hair, tangling in between his fingers before pulling hard. A surge of raw emotion—lust, need, desperation—pulsed between them like an electric current, setting Cinn’s nerves alight in perfect sync with Julien’s unravelling control.

Saliva poured from Cinn’s mouth, soaking Julien. He reached for the lube, coating his fingers liberally, then gently pushed Julien’s thighs apart. Julien’s breaths hitched, his nails scraping oh-so sensually across Cinn’s scalp as Cinn slowly, delicately, worked a finger inside him, all the way to the knuckle.

A whimper slipped from Julien’s mouth. A demanding one. “Give me another.” He tried to shuffle downwards.

Cinn shuffled up to kiss him on the tip of his nose. “Not yet.”

A low, tortured moan was Julien’s reply. Cinn’s cock agreed with him—it was twitching jealously at the feeling of his tight, silken heat.

“All good things. ”

His impatient lover clenched around the intrusion. Cinn slid his lone finger in and out, in and out, rubbing and stretching every inch of him with gentle caresses that had Julien calling him every unpleasant name under the sun.

“ Espèce de… Je te déteste! Putain! ”

At least, Cinn assumed they were unpleasant.

“You’ll think better of it next time you make me beg for it, huh?”

Julien hissed at him, so snakelike, Cinn almost laughed.

But Cinn wasn’t cruel, and Julien was more than ready, his muscles completely relaxed, pliant. Cinn added a second, crooking and twisting, searching—

Julien’s back arched, his head falling back as a wanton moan fell from his lips. “There, fuck, right—”

Cinn’s lips curled into a smug grin as he rubbed mercilessly, sending Julien more wild than he’d ever seen him—eyes wide as saucers, hair a frazzled mess from writhing around.

“Please, Cinn, I—”

“Shh, I’ve got you—”

Cinn’s words cut off as Julien abruptly sat up. He pushed Cinn off him, hard, before climbing on top of him. He thrust his hips against Cinn before capturing his wrists, pinning them by his head. His eyes reminded Cinn of a wild wolf. A hungry wild wolf.

Cinn swallowed.

“I need…”

Julien didn’t complete his thought, his molten gaze speaking volumes.

Cinn’s heart raced, his body thrumming, as Julien snatched up the lube. The cool slide of fingers as he slicked Cinn’s dick had him trembling with need.

He’d only last a few seconds inside Julien at this rate. Cinn sucked his cheek between his teeth and bit down, hard. There was no way he wasn’t going to make this as amazing for Julien as he always did for him .

Cinn only realised his eyes had closed when Julien brushed his knuckles over his eyebrow piercing, saying, “ S’il te pla?t ?”

He opened them, forcing himself to hold Julien’s gaze, though the intensity of it had him in a chokehold.

With a firm, steady hand, Julien lined Cinn’s dick up, nudging his head against his entrance. The tip popped in. A simultaneous groan passed between them.

Then, ever so slowly, he lowered himself on Cinn’s waiting cock, like he was savouring every inch.

“Cinn…” Julien said his name like it was a precious treasure. Then his head fell back, as he finally seated himself fully.

Circling his hips, Cinn’s eyes nearly rolled back, his mouth falling open at the perfect tightness. “Fuck—” Cinn’s fingers dug into the meat of Julien’s thighs, the give of his flesh, still keeping that perfect eye contact Julien couldn’t cope without.

But fuck, it had never felt like this before, being inside someone. But then, what he had with Julien felt so different, so uniquely theirs, that shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

The tendons in Julien’s neck strained as he arched his back. Then a tiny grunt of what might have been pain passed his lips, and Cinn looked at him in alarm, but Julien shook his head. “Fuck me,” he said, on one unsteady breath. “ And make love to me. I want everything.”

Cinn thrust up, one fluid movement that caused Julien to cry out, pressing a palm against his chest. Cinn’s heart pounded impossibly fast, his skin flushed, as Julien moved. He set a slow, sensual pace, rolling his hips, undulating. Cinn’s own hips snapped up, meeting Julien’s downward motions.

Another thrust, then another, each matched by Julien’s cries, certainly of ecstasy now. He’d never been so noisy. That was usually Cinn’s job.

Fuck. He’d gotten distracted and stopped moving. Julien leaned down to press his lips against Cinn’s cheek, the wetness from the tip of Julien’s cock sliding across his stomach.

“Allow me,” Julien said, a smile audible in his breathless voice.

Steadying himself with a palm on Cinn’s chest, Julien began pushing up before impaling himself on Cinn’s cock again and again, a punishing rhythm that had Cinn seeing stars. So many stars. Sliding his hands over the contours of Julien’s beautiful body, Cinn gripped his hips, guiding him up and down.

And there Cinn was, so close to coming, though Julien couldn’t be far off, his face slack with pleasure. A part of Cinn wanted to tell Julien to slow down, to make it last as long as possible. Being connected to Julien in this way was more than he could ever have hoped for.

But there would be a next time, and another. More times than he could possibly count.

Cinn thrust up, ever so slightly at first, and then more, and more, relishing the sensation of filling Julien up. He captured Julien’s cock, pumping it in time with his thrusts.

“Come with me,” Julien whispered, sounding very much on the edge.

Without any more warning, his lover screamed, hot cum painting Cinn’s stomach in thick, creamy ropes.

Cinn needn’t have worried after all.

No reason to hold back, Cinn gave in to the pull, allowing that pleasure to build and build until his balls were tightening. His thighs drew tight around Julien, drawing them ever closer together as he spilled gloriously inside him, Julien murmuring streams of praise as he did so.

The oxytocin ride was high. Cinn sank deep into the mattress, drowning in its soft embrace as waves of pleasure wrecked his body. He was helpless against the blackness that came for him .

When Cinn came to, it was to shivers, and Julien’s name on his lips, urgent, needy. Julien repeatedly kissed him, stroking his hair as he brushed a warm cloth over his stomach and legs.

Cinn grabbed the nape of Julien’s neck, dragging him to rest in the crook of his own. Julien sighed as he obliged, rubbing small circles across Cinn’s hips as their breathing slowly steadied.

Eventually, Julien rolled off to lie beside him. Cinn turned onto his side. Julien looked the very definition of a complete mess, and pride seeped through Cinn. He’d long since given up comparing himself to Julien’s many , many, but it certainly gave his ego a tiny bit of fuel to see Julien in such utter disarray. His golden princeling hair was a tangled mess, his lips swollen. He lay beside him, eyes unfocussed, murmuring nonsensical things under his breath. Sweat slicked his skin, glistening in the lamplight.

“What?” Julien eventually asked.

Cinn offered him a smug smirk. “Nothing.”

“Am I not allowed to be dishevelled after the best sex of my life?”

Who cared if Julien was only saying it to be kind? Cinn would take it, thank you very much.

Cinn shuffled his head to rest it on the same pillow as Julien, leaving millimetres between their heads. “So that was alright, then?”

“Alright?” Julien kissed the tip of his nose. “Are you joking?” He drew back slightly, expression turning serious, then pressed his palm to Cinn’s heart. “Because I wasn’t. I’ve always enjoyed sex. Enjoyed it a lot. But sharing it with you is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Because sex with you is fucking amazing. Hell, cuddling you is fucking amazing. Just being in the same room with you is enough for me. Will always be enough. You’re enough, Cinn. You’re everything. And I never want you to think otherwise, not for one second.”

A dizzying warmth washed over Cinn, beginning in his chest and swiftly enveloping his entire body, making him feel as if he were levitating above and observing himself and Julien from a distance. “Okay,” Cinn whispered in reply, smile aching his face. “You’re everything to me, too.”

Julien’s speech appeared to drain him of his last shred of energy, and his eyes closed, though his grip on Cinn didn’t lessen.

Some time later, Cinn, mapping the outline of Julien’s collarbone, paused mid-stroke. “I want to ask you something.”

“Hmmm?” Julien said, eyelashes fluttering in his doze.

Cinn untangled himself from the contortion of limbs they’d created. He crossed the room to open the small chest that came with the place. Locating the desired object, he returned to Julien, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

“Are you ready to wear this yet?” Cinn dangled Béatrice’s locket in the air, spinning the cool silver chain around his finger. The oval-shaped locket’s stars twinkled at him. “I think it might help you. And I miss seeing you in it. But only if you’re ready.”

A complicated mix of emotions passed over Julien’s face, and Cinn tensed. He’d overstepped.

Julien reached for the locket, closing his hand over Cinn’s. “ Merci ,” he said. “I do miss wearing it.”

When Julien slipped the necklace over his head, it fell straight back into place upon his chest. Cinn’s face broke into a smile. There we are.

With a kiss to Cinn’s forehead, Julien slid off the bed. He straightened his back, then his eyes darted towards the window. Cinn’s heart plummeted. Julien’s anxious expression was back. Was this Cinn’s fault for giving him the locket?

“Come back to bed,” Cinn pleaded. “I need you here.”

Julien sounded genuinely sad when he replied, “I can’t, mon amour .” He twitched back the curtain, resuming his eagle-eyed watch. “I’m not letting them hurt you again. I’d rather never sleep again.”

“Both of the attacks were in Paris,” Cinn protested .

“ Oui , but he has men everywhere. Who knows if his stretch reaches Salvatore Gallo and the gendarmerie even?”

Trying to muffle his sigh, Cinn closed his eyes. “Wake me up in a bit then, and I’ll have a turn. Don’t stay up all night, you’ll go mad.”

Cinn stretched his arm out to Julien’s side of the bed, now cold without him in it.

The pull of sleep beckoned him, tugging on the edges of his consciousness.

He loathed to leave Julien alone, glaring moodily out of the window.

Particularly as a feeling was growing in the pit of his stomach.

A prickling sensation, like something was slightly amiss.

But he could only fight sleep for so long before he succumbed to the darkness.

He would have to deal with whatever was on the other side, on the other side.