I brace one arm beside his head, the other locked around his thigh to keep him exactly where I want him. His heels diginto my lower back, like he’s trying to fuse our bodies together.
“Logan—” It’s barely a word. More like a cracked-open prayer.
“Look at me,” I say, low and rough.
His eyes snap open, pupils blown, chest heaving. There’s nothing guarded there anymore—just want and trust.
And fuck, that does something to me.
I pull back, slowly, torturously…then drive forward again, deep enough to steal the air from his lungs. He chokes on a moan, back arching so hard that the sheets bunch beneath him.
“Jesus—fuck—” His fingers claw at my shoulders, my neck, anywhere he can reach. They are going to leave marks for sure. “Logan, I’m gonna—I can’t—I’m—please?—”
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, hips snapping harder now, pace quickening as I push him over the edge. Each thrust rubs him between us, and I can feel him leaking all over me. “Let go. Come for me.”
He shatters.
A raw, broken sound rips out of him as his whole body bows, orgasm tearing through him so hard he’s shaking. His release stripes our stomachs, his thighs locking around my waist, squeezing tight.
Feeling him pulse around me—tight, hot, perfect—Yeah. It pushes me right to the edge.
I thrust once, twice—then bury myself as deep as I can go, groaning into his shoulder as my orgasm slams through me so hard my vision blacks. My hands grip his hips, holding him flush against me as I spill into him, pulse after pulse after pulse. Pure fucking bliss.
Todd drags me down into a kiss mid-aftershock—open-mouthed, messy, completely spent—and I melt into it, riding out the last waves with him.
Our breathing is wild for a long moment. Just the sound of us and the faint creak of the bed beneath our shaking. Eventually, my forehead drops to his chest, both of us too wrung out to pretend we’re anything but destroyed in the best way.
His fingers slide into my hair, weak but tender, scratching lightly at my scalp.
“Holy…” His voice cracks, and he huffs a laugh. “Shit.”
I laugh too—breathy, wrecked, resting my weight on him because I know he likes it. “Yeah. That.”
His chest rises under my cheek, slow and steady.
He presses a lazy kiss to the side of my head. “Feel good?”
I tilt my mouth to his jaw, kissing back. “You kidding? I’m pretty sure I forgot my own name for a second.”
Todd laughs again, and his arms wrap tight around me.
We stay tangled like that, sweat cooling on our skin, breaths syncing back to normal, the world narrowed down to skin and heartbeat and the softness that comes after you’ve given everything and gotten everything back. I could do this every single day for the rest of my life.
FORTY-ONE
TODD
The second Logansteps onto the ice beside me, I already know today’s going to run smoother than the last couple practices.
Not because of some cosmic shift or because everything is magically better.
Just…becausehe’s here. Becausewe’re usagain.
Warmups start with simple passes, but Logan still has to show off—chipping the puck up and catching it flat on his blade before passing it to me.
Show-off.
“Trying to impress me?” I ask, flicking it back to him.
