And yet Enzo defended me all the same.
I kiss him hard.
Enzo is not a hookup I meet in a sports bar and start making out with because the music is too loud to talk and I don’t feel like dancing. Enzo is my best friend, the person on this earth who knows me the most, who shares my tastes, with whom I also share a child. Enzo is fire and earth. Enzo is life.
Why didn’t we kiss before? He slept in my bed. I know what his cock feels like in my hand and in my mouth.
But there was a part of me that was uncertain. That wanted him to be happy, wanted desperately for him to be content, but was still wary, that wanted to protect myself.
But he defended me to the reporters. Enzo, who hates speaking to the press, defended me.
I pull myself away from his face. “Bed.”
“Bed.” He nods eagerly. His cheeks are a pretty red they aren’t normally, and his eyes have a dazed look that’s adorable. His hair is tousled from where my hands touched it, and my stubble has scratched his chin.
We dash toward the bed, and I tear off my suit jacket, then tear off my tie. Enzo does the same.
There are buttons, too many buttons, way too many buttons, and I pull Enzo to me and kiss him instead. I try to undress him, and he does the same. His fingers are on my chest. They tremble, or maybe I’m trembling.
My veins burn for him. My cock is iron. My skin pulses beneath his touch. My chest is so full I can barely breathe.
“I need you,” I say.
He looks at me in surprise. But he is my everything. He’s always been.
He stands up, then yanks me to him. He gets to work on unbuckling my belt, unzipping my zipper, and freeing my cock from its constraints.
Pre-cum wets the tip of my cock, and Enzo gazes at it in a hungry, longing manner. He pushes me on the bed, yanks off my shoes and socks and trousers, then captures my cock in his mouth.
It goes all the way in.
He sucks it with finesse.
“Enz,” I say.
He keeps on sucking. I lie on my back, sinking into the soft mattress, Enzo’s hot, soft mouth on me. I move my hands to his head.
His face is all delicate angles. His long dark lashes flick downwards, and his brow is furrowed in concentration. His full lips slide over my cock over and over and over.
His tongue slides and sweeps over me, and the temperature in the room soars.
I buck into his mouth, into his suction, into his heat.
I’m going to shatter at any moment. Instead, I stroke his cheek, and when he darts his gaze at me, his look filled with such intensity that my heart stops, I wonder how I could ever think that he didn’t care. I pull him gently back into my arms.
I trail kisses over his beautiful face, over the arch of each cheekbone, over his pillowy lips, then I suck on the delicate skin of his neck. I capture his earlobes in my mouth and suck, so he writhes beneath me, ushering out a symphony of moans and intakes of breaths that make my cock twitch and jerk. I run my tongue over his ear, twirling it over his grooves.
Then I move lower.
I’ve done this before, but this time is different. This time I’m not just helping him sleep.
I take him in my mouth, and he gasps my name.
He’s hot and heavy on my tongue, and I take him deeper than I did the first time. I know what I’m doing now. I hollow my cheeks, swirl my tongue, and his hands fly to my hair, gripping but not pushing.
“Axel—” His voice is wrecked. “I’m going to?—”
I pull off before he can finish. He whines at the loss, and I grin.
