His breath shudders, lashes trembling as he lifts his gaze to mine—searching me. Like he’s trying to find a crack in my words, some hidden intention I never spoke aloud. But I let him look. Let him see me, all the way through.
And when he doesn’t find a lie, when all he sees is want and tenderness, he softens, and a small, shy smile curves his lips. It’s hesitant, like it hasn’t been allowed to exist before.
“Okay,” he breathes, barely audible. “Do you… still want to take me… in your mouth?”
“Yes.” My answer is immediate, unflinching. “I want to taste you, Lucas.”
I reach up, brushing a stray curl from his eyes, letting my fingers linger.
“I want your pretty cock in my mouth. And I don’t want anything back. No favors. No expectations. Just you.”
Something in his chest releases with that. He breathes slowly, and his fingers begin to trace up my arms, tentative at first, like he’s afraid I’ll pull away, but I don’t. I stay still and let him explore me with those soft, delicate hands; they settle over my chest. He exhales shakily, and then one hand trails higher, up my neck, over the side of my face. His touch is reverent. Careful. Like he’s memorizing me, like he’s still struggling to believe I’m real. That I want him this way.
He’s never touched me like this before, not when we weren’t already tangled in heat, never let himself be this free and open.
His hands settle on my jaw, and his thumb brushes the corner of my mouth. He holds me there, eyes flicking back and forth between mine, his chest rising and falling like waves against a storm.
And then he whispers it.
“Okay, Alexander,” he says, my name soft on his lips like a prayer, like he’s offering something sacred. “You can taste me.”
That’s all it takes.
My control snaps like a taut wire, and I surge forward, crashing my mouth against his. He opens to me instantly, eager and breathless, the kiss is messy and desperate and fucking perfect. His fingers curl into my hair, pulling me closer, as if he needs to feel every inch of me pressed against him.
And fuck, the sound he makes when I push my tongue deeper—it’s filthy. A raw, needy moan that goes straight to my cock.
This moment isn’t just about heat; it’s about being allowed and being trusted. And I’m going to worship every inch of him like he deserves it.
TWENTY-NINE
LUCAS
Alexander’s kiss sinks deep into me, warm, consuming, reverent. I feel it in my bones, like it’s trying to stitch something back together that’s been broken too long. He holds me like he means it. Like I’m real. His scent wraps around me, his arms firm and grounding, and I let him. Dear heavens, I let him.
By the time he pulls away, my lungs are empty. My lips are parted, chasing the space where his used to be. He looks down at me like I’m everything, as if I’m not just something he wants to touch, but something he wants to know. Like he wants to worship me, and ruin me in the same breath.
I don’t know how to exist under that kind of gaze. It carves into me like light into shadow. I feel bare, seen, and held together only by his sheer force of wanting me.
My body is strung tight, trembling under the weight of want and fear. One wrong touch, one crack in the surface, and I’ll break down.
He told me he doesn’t want anything in return. That I don’t owe him a thing. And I believe him. God, I believe him so much I could cry.
So I bury the memories—those dark, rotting ones that taught me shame, that taught me fear. I shove them down, just for tonight. Just long enough to give him this. To give us this. Iwon’t let the past swallow me whole tonight. I won’t let it take this from me. I don’t know how long I can bury it, I don’t know when it’ll come shattering, but for now, I won’t let it ruin what I have with him.
Because I want him. With everything in me, my body, my battered heart, my aching soul. I want Alexander.
His mouth trails heat down my neck, slow and reverent. I arch into him without thinking, gasping when he nips at the spot below my ear. He kisses down my collarbone, over my chest, and when his tongue flicks over my nipple, I gasp so hard it almost hurts. My back lifts off the bed like I’m offering myself to him without even realizing it.
“Alex…” I whisper, breath hitching.
My cock pulses between us, hard again, already leaking, aching. Precum smears across my stomach, slick and warm. I’m trembling under him, not from fear this time, but from want. From the unbearable pressure building in every corner of me.
By the time Alexander reaches my navel, I’m panting hard. My skin feels flushed and too tight, like my body can’t contain everything he’s making me feel. He presses a warm kiss just beneath my belly button, and I nearly lose it. But he avoids my cock entirely, and a desperate, breathy whine spills from my throat before I can stop it.
It surprises even me.
His chuckle is low and hot, sending heat spiraling straight down my spine.
