The soft click of the cap echoes in the quiet room. Julius warms the gel between his fingers, a gesture so thoughtful it makes my heart clench. His dark eyes meet mine, seeking permission even though there’s not an atom of my body that would ever say no to him. I nod, spreading my legs wider in invitation.
His touch is gentle but sure as he begins to prepare me. One finger circles slowly before pressing inside, and I exhale deeply, willing my muscles to relax. Julius watches my face intently, reading every micro-expression as he adds a second finger. The stretch is familiar now, my body accepting him readily, especially after last night.
“Good?” he asks, voice rough with desire.
“Perfect,” I breathe, and it is. The careful press and curl of his fingers send sparks of pleasure through me. My hips lift slightly off the bed, seeking more, and Julius’s free hand settles on my thigh to steady me.
When he’s finally inside me, it’s with the same measured care he shows in everything. I feel deliciously full, caught between the lingering sensitivity from before and fresh waves of arousal. Julius stills, giving me time to adjust, but I’m already pushing back against him, wanting more.
He begins to move, setting a rhythm that makes my toes curl. The headboard taps gently against the wall. Julius’s hands grip my hips, and I know I’ll have marks tomorrow—a thought that sends another surge of heat through me.
Our bodies find a perfect synchronicity, which just proves to me how perfect we are together even when we haven’t known each other that long. I trace the tension in his jaw, the slightfurrow of concentration between his brows. He turns his head to kiss my palm, and the tenderness of the gesture against the hard fuck he’s giving me right now makes my chest tight.
When my second orgasm claims me without the need to touch myself, it’s like a star exploding behind my eyes. Julius shudders above me, his rhythm faltering as he follows me over the edge. For a moment, we’re suspended in that perfect space where nothing exists but sensation and connection.
Afterward, we lie tangled in the sheets, our breathing slowly returning to normal, and I feel more than hear his contented sigh.
“So, Leo’s really on board?” he asks, his voice laced with the kind of worry that tells me he’d do anything to keep my brother happy, even if it meant not being with me.
“He’s a great kid. Even without facing his reality, he’s always been a little more grown-up than kids his age. I promise you he’s happy for us.” And there’s no way I’d let Julius go without a fight.
Julius’s hand stills on my hip. “My sister is unhealthily invested in our relationship. I can only apologize in advance.” He groans, but I hear the genuine concern in his voice. He’s always thinking of others, carrying their welfare like a mantle on his broad shoulders.
I grin, trying to lighten his mood. “Your sister just wants to poach me for her restaurant,” I tease, remembering Hella’s not-so-subtle hints about my culinary skills being wasted at the coffee shop.
Julius’s arm tightens around me possessively, and though his smile is gentle, his voice is firm. “It’s never gonna happen.”
I nestle closer, breathing in his familiar scent. In this moment, I feel more loved than ever—not just desired or wanted, but truly cherished. It’s in the way Julius holds me, the careful strength in his hands that speaks of protection withoutpossession. It’s in how he worries about my brother and his sister, already thinking of us as one family.
The time passes around us, and I listen to Julius’s heartbeat slow beneath my ear.
In a few hours I have to go be a big brother and get ready for work tomorrow, but right now, in this bed, in these arms, I know with absolute certainty that I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
“I love you,” I whisper, not sure if he’s still awake to hear it.
His arms tighten infinitesimally around me, and his lips brush my forehead.
“I love you too, Constantine.”
16
EPILOGUE
JULIUS
10 YEARS LATER
The taxi doorswings open and I step out into the May sunshine, my heart racing with the day’s significance. Constantine follows, carefully maneuvering the congratulatory banner we spent hours crafting last night while our daughter Athena clutches her tiny bouquet of wildflowers like it’s made of spun glass with one hand and her favorite stuffy elephant with the other.
My fingers tremble slightly as I adjust my suit jacket—the nicest one I own, saved for special occasions like this. The fabric feels foreign and familiar against my skin, much like this moment: the culmination of years of hope and hard work, yet somehow still surreal. Kay and her girlfriend Emma emerge from the other side of the taxi, their sundresses bright spots of color against the formal blacks and grays of the gathering crowd.
The college’s main auditorium rises before us, its brick facade warm and welcoming in the late spring light. Theair buzzes with conversation and anticipation—hundreds of families just like ours, all here to celebrate their graduates.
“Daddy, look!” Athena tugs at my sleeve, pointing to a butterfly that’s landed on one of her wildflowers.
Constantine shifts the banner under his arm, his free hand finding the small of my back. The touch grounds me, as it has countless times before. “Need help with that?” I ask, but he shakes his head, a knowing smile on his lips.
“I got it. Need you to keep your hands free to calm me when I have a nervous breakdown.”
