Adam Snow and Noah White have a connection so intense it’s practically crackling with electric charge. Neither of them can deny it, and right now, Adam has Noah pinned against the kitchen counter, fingers gripping his jaw like a vise. Sharing space with Noah weaks Adam, makes him vulnerable in ways he hates. But one taste of Noah’s mouth, and he’s hooked, hooked hard.

Noah arches into him, icy eyes flashing with a mix of defiance and lust. “You’re thinking too much,” he taunts, fingers casually slipping under Adam’s belt. Without warning, he yanks Adam closer, the rough denim of their jeans creating a friction that has them both grinding against each other. Adam can’t help the gruff growl that escapes, vibrating against Noah’s neck.

Clothes fly off, discarded like lies they are, and they fall into a 69 position that’s all about power and control. Adam’s tongue laps roughly at Noah’s balls while Noah chokes himself on Adam’s cock, tears of sheer ecstasy smearing his flushed cheeks. They’re a mess of spit and rough words, hips meeting in a rhythm that’s as raw as it is erotic.

Noah breaks first, crawling on all fours on the cold tile. Adam doesn’t hesitate, slamming into that tight, eager heat, nails digging crescent-shaped marks into Noah’s hips. Each thrust wrenches a groan from Noah, raw and untamed. Adam drags him upright, arms wrapped around his body like a steel cage, their sweat-slicked skin fused together. It’s more than sex—it’s claiming.

When they collapse, shaking and spent, Noah’s laugh is a mix of smoke and sharp edges. “Still think you’re soft, Adam?”

Adam licks the salt from his neck, a grin on his face. “Still think this is just about fucking, Noah?”