His whole body stills beneath mine, just for a second. Then he lets out this quiet sound—part breath, part whimper—and I don’t know if it’s from pleasure or if it’s something more.
But I don’t ask.
Not yet.
Because, for now, I just want to stay like this. Wrapped around him. Inside him. Trying to catch my breath and pretend like this wasn’t more than it was supposed to be.
Even though I’m positive we both know it was.
Todd’s body is limp beneath me, boneless in a way that makes something tighten deep in my chest. His breath ghosts across my neck, uneven and warm. I’m still half-draped over him, one hand braced on the back of the couch, the other slipping over his chest needing to touch his skin.
His thighs are still trembling. His lips are parted. And his eyes…they’re distant. My heart squeezes, and I swallow.
“You good?” I ask softly, brushing my knuckles along the side of his neck.
He nods once but doesn’t speak.
I press a kiss to his temple. Then another. I can’t seem to stop. “You were perfect. Every damn second.”
He doesn’t respond—not verbally, at least. But the tension starts to creep back into his shoulders, and that’s how I know he’s pulling away. Shutting down. Retreating intohimself like this was something he can compartmentalize and bury.
Not happening.
I shift a little, just enough to tilt his chin up with my fingers. “Hey,” I say gently. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out already.”
He shifts beneath me, but I tighten my arm around him and keep him close, grounding him to me, to this moment. “I know you’re freaking out in that pretty little head of yours, but let’s talk about what this is, yeah?”
Todd swallows, eyes darting everywhere but mine. I pull out of him and reach for my discarded shirt, cleaning up his release to give him a moment to really let my words settle.
I keep my tone level. Logical. Because I know that’s what he’ll respond to. “No labels. No expectations. Just us. Like this. Whenever you want it.”
His lashes flutter at that. I feel him relax the tiniest bit. I toss the dirty shirt to the floor and focus on him again.
“We can keep it quiet,” I add, threading my fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp like I already know he likes it. “Just between us. You text, I open the door. You want out, you walk.”
His brow furrows, but his body relaxes even more against mine.
“I won’t ask for anything you’re not ready to give,” I murmur, dropping my lips to the curve of his jaw. God, I can’t stop kissing him. “But I’m not pretending this didn’t happen. You can try, but I won’t let you rewrite it. It was real. It was fucking perfect. And I want to do it again.”
“You’re too good at this,” he says, voice rough and wary.
“Maybe.” I kiss the space behind his ear. “But maybe I just like you too much to let you spiral and run.”
That makes him still again.
“I’ll take what I can get,” I whisper, because if I say the rest of what I’m thinking—if I admit that this is already more than I expected—I’ll lose him before I even have a chance to convince him life outside of the closet is better. Whatever his hang ups are, I’ll help him work through them. It will just take time.
“Okay,” he says after a beat, voice barely audible. “Just…keep it between us.”
“Of course,” I promise, pulling the throw blanket off the back of the couch, maneuvering us so I’m spooning him from behind, and tucking it around us. Having him in my arms like this does something stupid to my heart, because it’s doing backflips like it’s a gymnast going for a gold metal. “You can stay tonight. Or go. Whatever you need.”
He doesn’t move. Just sinks into me, like maybe, just maybe, this feels a little safer than whatever storm is waiting outside my apartment door.
And I don’t move either.
Because for now, he’s still here.
And I’m not letting go.
