Wesley yawned, long and unguarded, and a moment later he yawned again, blinking sleepily.
“Bed,” I said, standing and closing the heavy book I already knew I was going to buy. He made a face but didn’t argue as he reached over and turned off the lantern.
Darkness swallowed the room, but as my eyes adjusted, I could see him—his hair loose around his face, the curve of his mouth, his smile. Desire coiled low and sharp, warring with the nagging voice of reason whispering that I shouldn’t want this as badly as I did. I couldn’t stop looking at him, fragile and fierce all at once, until want overrode every doubt as I stared at him in the faint light seeping through frosted panes.It painted his face in pale shadows, turned the outlines of the store into something dreamlike.
I reached for him, tugging him against me. He came willingly, warm and pliant in my arms, tilting his head up as though he knew what I wanted. Our mouths met, slow at first, then deeper, his lips parting beneath mine. I kissed him like I had all the time in the world, like I could kiss him forever, the night wrapping us in something that felt almost magical.
I had to go. I couldn’t promise him anything right now, and that wasn’t fair.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I murmured when we reached the bottom of the stairs. Wesley’s hand caught mine, his grip surprisingly strong as he tugged me to the first step.
“Don’t go,” he said, voice raw, almost breaking. His eyes searched mine in the dim, snowy glow spilling through the windows. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, torn between every reason I should leave and the one reason I couldn’t—him. I squeezed his fingers back, fighting the war inside me, and all I wanted was to stay right there, caught between his plea and my own need to give in.
“If I leave, Wes…”
“That’s a later Wes problem,” he whispered, and when he tugged me again, I went up with him.
Reality waited outside the window, beyond thesnow. The job applications, the interviews, the questions I hadn’t answered about where I belonged. The future pressed at the edges of this small, perfect morning, reminding me it wasn’t as simple as staying here forever, no matter how much I wanted to. “But Wes…if itisa problem?” I asked halfway up; I didn’t want to promise him things with my heart and my libido that my rational side wasn’t able to deliver.
He shook his head, “Then later-us will deal with it.”
We stumbled into his bedroom, both of us breathless. He flicked on the overhead light but crossed to the lamp by the bed and turned the main switch off, leaving only a warm glow in the room. The contrast revealed everything: the chaos of towering stacks of books covering every surface—paperbacks, journals with bookmarks shoved in at odd angles—all around the neatly made bed, the one oasis of order in a storm of words.
Wesley turned back to me, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing. “I want you inside me,” he said, voice low but steady.
I froze, searching his face. “Are you sure?”
He nodded without hesitation. “Yes.” Then he opened the drawer of his nightstand, pulled out a small box of condoms and a bottle of lube, and held them outto me. “I’ve been tested. PrEP. I haven’t been with anyone in forever.”
Relief and heat flooded me. I took them from his hand. “Same for me. Not since Mark and that was fuck… two years ago…” I murmured.
He smiled, almost shy. The lamplight reflected in his hair, gilding him, and my breath caught at how badly I wanted him—notjustthe sex, but all of him, every chaotic book pile, every sarcastic grin, every conspiracy theory, every fragile piece he tried to hide.
We moved slowly at first, lingering touches and long looks stretching the moment. My palms mapped the lines of his body as if I were memorizing him, every shiver under my fingers pulling me closer. His eyes locked on mine, unguarded and wanting, and I couldn’t look away as our breaths tangled and the anticipation built, both of us trembling a little, nerves and anticipation blurring into one. I kissed him again, tasting cocoa and sweetness, and lay him back against the neat sheets while books leaned in crooked towers around us. My fingers slid under his shirt, pushing it up, and he raised his arms so I could pull it free. His skin was warm to touch, his chest smooth, the little scar over one nipple and the birthmark over the other catching my eye again. I bent and kissed them both, lingering until he gasped.
The lube felt cold on my fingers, and he archedinto the touch with a soft sigh, his body yielding, eager. Every shift of his hips pushed me, small, desperate movements that sent heat racing through me. but he shivered and sighed as I touched him, opening for me, trusting me. I took my time, kissing him through every breath, letting him adjust until he pulled at me with desperate little noises, nails digging into my shoulders.
“Hunter, please,” he whispered, voice breaking.
“Okay, sweetheart,” I murmured, rolling the condom on with shaking hands. I pushed in slow, inch by inch. His eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting around a moan that made my head spin. The world shrank to just this: the heat of him, the way he clenched and relaxed, the way his thighs tightened around me as if he couldn’t let me go. Outside, the storm felt far away, the snow muffling the world until there was nothing but us, the hush beyond the windows amplifying every sound we made. It was calm and fierce all at once—quiet intimacy then lust—and I lost myself in the contrast, in the way the night cradled our intensity as though it belonged there.
I bent over him, kissing his mouth, then trailing down to his jaw and the hollow of his throat, tasting salt and warmth on his skin. Each kiss lingered, my tongue flicking lightly, and his breath hitched, a broken sound that made me shiver. He arched his neck for me, offering more, his fingers curling intomy back as if he couldn’t bear to let me go as I moved, gentle but steady, every thrust matched to his breaths. He met me, hips lifting, hands gripping at my back, and the room filled with sounds—his moans, my ragged breathing, the quiet creak of the bed.
“You feel so good,” I groaned.
He kissed me hard, swallowing the words. His hand slipped between us, stroking himself in time with the rhythm of my thrusts. The slick slide of his palm filled the space with obscene heat. I reached down to cover his hand with mine, every movement more frantic, more desperate, until the rhythm became everything and he cried out, spilling over our stomachs. The sight of him coming undone beneath me dragged me over the edge. I buried my face in his neck as I shuddered, filling the condom.
We stayed entangled, our breaths syncing slowly, sweat cooling on our skin. I kissed his temple, then his lips, soft and lingering. In the lamplight, with books scattered like witnesses around us, he looked wrecked and beautiful. I cleaned us up, and he held out a hand to me when I was done.
“Stay, tonight,” he whispered, eyes heavy but pleading.
I could no more stop myself from sleeping next to him than I could run naked into the snow. I brushed a thumb over his cheek, “I’m not going anywhere.”
At least, not tonight.
Morning came too soon. The alarm clock showed it was 7.00, and with Wes still warm, we drifted into the shower together. The steam curled around us, water cascading over his shoulders, sliding down his chest, catching in the dark curls at his stomach. I couldn’t stop watching him—his lashes wet, lips parted as he laughed when I tugged him closer. The slickness of his skin under my hands and the way he leaned back into me with trust and hunger, made everything sharper, more urgent. One kiss turned into another until I was on my knees.
I took him into my mouth, slow at first, teasing the head with my tongue, savoring the taste of salt and heat. His hips jerked, a cry torn from his throat, echoing off the tile. I sucked him deeper, hollowing my cheeks, one hand braced at his hip while the other stroked along his length when I pulled back. He urged me on, every sound he made sending a jolt of arousal through me until I was desperate for more.
