Grayson’s lips curved into a smile, "No one will ever know about that other than you."

Heat flooded his face, spreading down his neck and across his chest. Neville ducked his head, unable to meet those silver eyes.

"You can’t just say things like that," he muttered.

"Why not? It’s true."

"Because—" Neville struggled to find the words.

In the end, he just sighed and pressed his forehead against Grayson’s shoulder.

"You’re impossible."

Grayson chuckled as his hands settled on Neville’s hips, his fingers busily rubbing against his skin under his oversized shirt, which had ridden up.

"I know," Grayson whispered softly against Neville’s forehead and left a gentle kiss. "Now—"

Suddenly, Grayson’s hands tightened on Neville’s hips, and he changed their positions. Neville found himself on his knees again, but on the couch. Facing the back cushion, he could feel Grayson behind him.

"Wait—" Neville’s protest was weak, breathless.

"Not that," Grayson assured him, his lips brushing against the shell of Neville’s ear. "Not tonight. Just... let me..."

He trailed off, and then his hips were pressing forward.

Neville bit his lip hard enough to taste copper.

Grayson set a rhythm—slow at first, then building, his hands gripping Neville’s hips with bruising intensity. His mouth found the curve of Neville’s neck, kissing and biting and sucking marks into the pale skin there.

And Neville—

Neville stopped thinking entirely.

He lost himself in sensation. His own arousal throbbed, neglected, but even that felt secondary to the pleasure building in his core.

When Grayson reached around to touch him, Neville nearly sobbed.

"I’ve got you," Grayson murmured, his voice rough against Neville’s ear.

This was too much.

Neville came with a broken cry, his whole body shaking apart as pleasure reached its peak. Grayson followed moments later. He groaned as he spilled against Neville’s back.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. They stayed there, tangled together on the couch, breathing hard, letting their racing hearts slow.

Then Grayson pressed a kiss to Neville’s nape and said, "Let’s go."

Neville, still dazed and boneless, barely had time to register the words before Grayson was scooping him up, lifting him off the couch, and carrying him toward the master bedroom.

"I can walk," Neville protested weakly.

"I know."

"Then put me down."

"No."

Neville sighed, but he didn’t actually struggle. His limbs felt like they had been replaced with wet noodles anyway.

"Fine," he mumbled. "But you owe me breakfast tomorrow."

Grayson chuckled and said, "I’ll make you whatever you want."

Then Neville mumbled again, "Never mind, I don’t trust you with the kitchen."

Grayson laughed even louder than before.

And that was how Neville suffered all ’night’ long.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Neville’s eyelids fluttered open. Spending time in this place made him lose track of time.

Three days? Four? A week?

Beside him, Grayson had his black hair fanned across the pillow. His breathing remained deep and even.

Must be nice, Neville thought sourly.

He carefully extracted himself from under Grayson’s arm, which had been thrown possessively on his waist. He moved slowly so as not wake up Grayson; he had already learned his lesson last time.

With his meager efforts, the arm didn’t move.

But Grayson was still deep in his sleep.

Neville held his breath for a full thirty seconds before finally sliding free.

Success.

He sat at the edge of the bed for a moment, taking in his situation. His body ached in places he knew didn’t ache before. There were more marks on his neck and collarbones than before. He should probably ask Shelly for a remedy to clear them all up.

Their pheromones clung to his skin despite multiple showers. Not that the showers had been particularly effective when Grayson kept joining him halfway through.

Focus. Breakfast. Clothes.

The memory of yesterday—or was it the day before?—flashed through his mind.

He had tried to slip out to the living room wearing nothing but a thin sleep shirt, only to find himself pinned against the hallway wall before he had taken ten steps. Grayson had appeared behind him like a ghost, despite having supposedly been dead asleep moments before.

"Where do you think you’re going?" Grayson had asked, his voice rough, having just woken up.

"The kitchen."

"In that?"

Neville had looked down at himself, confused. "It’s a shirt."

"It barely covers anything."

"I wore it before, too, and there’s no one else here!"

That argument had not ended in his favor. In fact, it had ended with him facing the wall and his butt facing Grayson.

This time, Neville rummaged through Grayson’s endless clothes until he found a pair of sweatpants that Grayson probably was not wearing anymore because of their smaller size.

They hung a little loosely on his narrower hips, but they still fit him, which was precisely the point. He paired it with an oversized sweater that fell past his thighs and nodded to himself with satisfaction.

Let’s see you try something now.

The kitchen was clean.

It seemed that the automated cleaning systems had been hard at work during their... activities.

Neville set about to prepare breakfast when he noticed something.

He glanced toward the bedroom door, half-expecting Grayson to appear behind him like usual. But the bedroom door remained quiet. The only sounds were the soft hum of ventilation and the gentle bubbling of the pot on the stove.

Interesting.

By the time the breakfast was plated and set aside to keep warm, Neville’s curiosity had been thoroughly piqued. During all his time in this penthouse, Grayson had an almost supernatural awareness of his movements.

The man would jolt awake at the slightest shift of the mattress, track Neville’s position through closed doors, and appear at his side with unsettling speed whenever he strayed too far.

But now? Nothing.

Neville wiped down the counter and checked on the slumbering Alpha through the bedroom’s open door.

Grayson hadn’t moved. His chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of deep sleep.

When was the last time he slept this soundly?

Neville shook his head and turned away from the bedroom.

He looked around and realized just how big this penthouse was. He had only explored what little the first floor offered.

But he hadn’t been to the second floor yet.