He smiled at that. Small. Real.
We watched another few minutes in silence. His foot bumped my thigh once. He didn’t apologize. I didn’t move away.
“I never really… did this,” he said after a bit.
“Movies?” I asked.
“No. Just… hanging out.” I admitted.
He nodded. “Me too.”
That surprised him. I could tell.
I shifted and leaned back against the headboard, tugging him with me. He went easily, settling against my chest like it made sense. Like he trusted it would hold.
It did.
“What do you want to know?” I asked.
He tilted his head, thinking. “How old were you when you learned to ride?”
I snorted. “That’s what you’re starting with?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Felt like a safe one.”
I told him. He told me about the first bike he’d ever been on. About the scar on his knee. About the worst movie he’d ever seen all the way through. I told him mine.
It was nothing heavy or particularly deep.
Just pieces.
At some point, the movie ended and neither of us noticed. The TV went dark. The room stayed warm.
He shifted, sleepy now, fingers curling into my shirt.
“You still good?” I asked quietly.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I am.”
I pulled the blanket up around both of us and leaned my head back.
Right now there was no next move.
Just us and I’d never felt so right.
My eyes openedto the dim glow of the TV screen saver. I glanced to the window and saw it was dark outside now. Kellan was still pressed against me in bed, his body curled into mine, our legs tangled under the sheets. His scent hit me first, sweet and so him it stirred something primal deep in my gut. My cock hardened instantly, throbbing against the confines of my pants as his pheromones wrapped around me like a vice.
I shifted, my hand instinctively gripping his hip, pulling him closer. He stirred, a soft whimper escaping his lips as his eyes met mine in the low light. No words needed; his pupils were blown wide, his body arching toward me with the same desperate hunger.
“Hey,” I murmured, my voice rough but steady. “Look at me.”
Kellan didn’t pull away. He held my gaze, breathing slow, deliberate.
“This is your choice,” I said. “I want you. Always. If you’re not ready?—”
It was soon… maybe too soon for some people but I’d known from the second I laid eyes on him.
His hand slid up my chest, fingers curling into my shirt like an anchor.
