The love.
“I want to tell you so badly,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I do. But not now… not tonight.”
His eyes don’t move, but I feel the tension ripple through him. His jaw tightens beneath my touch. I press my thumbs softly against it, like I can soothe the storm I know is brewing just beneath his skin.
“I want to tell you when my heart is ready,” I continue, barely breathing. “When I know I can say it without running… without being afraid of how you’ll look at me after.”
His chest rises hard, controlled. I can see him holding it in—questions, fears, the darkness he always tries to protect me from. But he hasn’t said a word. Not yet.
“Please, Alex,” I murmur, my hands sliding gently up into his damp hair, fingers curling into it, holding on like I’m afraid he might disappear again. “Please, just give me this moment.”
My voice trembles. “Just this one… where you don’t look at me like I’m broken. Where you don’t hold back from touching me like you’re afraid you’ll make it worse.”
His throat bobs. His hands clench at his sides like it’s taking everything in him not to reach for me. Not to fall into me.
“I’ll never flinch from you again,” I whisper. “I’ll never look at you like you’re something to fear. Because you’re not, Alex. You’re not.”
His breath shudders. And I feel it, something in him loosening, unraveling. But still, he doesn’t speak. And maybe that’s why the next word slips from my mouth before I can stop it.
“Please, baby.”
It’s soft. Intimate. Honest.
But I mean it.
Because he is mine. Even if it took me too long to admit it. Even if I’m still learning how to hold this—us—without fear.
His eyes flicker at the word. Something shifts. The hardness in his face cracks, just slightly. His gaze softens, and his breath stutters like the sound of my voice just reached some part of him he wasn’t ready for.
Maybe it was the plea.
Maybe it was the way I said baby.
Maybe it’s the way I’m still standing here, soaked and shaking, but choosing him.
Then his hand lifts slowly, deliberately, and he finally cups my face, his thumb grazing my cheek, then trailing gently down to my jaw.
I almost choke on the breath I’ve been holding.
His other hand finds my waist, fingers spreading over the soaked fabric of the shirt clinging to my skin. His grip is firm and Possessive. But there’s no force in it. Just want. Just need.
“All of this…” he says, voice rasping low and wrecked, almost like he’s confessing a crime—“…is new to me.”
His eyes flick to mine. I can see it there, the war behind them. The vulnerability is barely hidden beneath all that steel.
“I’ve never cared about anyone like this. Never let anyone in the way I’ve let you in.” His voice hitches, rough and raw. “You ruin me, Lucas. You fucking undo me.”
I swallow hard, heartbeat stuttering.
“When you’re not near me, when you pull away…” his jaw clenches, like the words hurt, “It cuts. And I don’t even know why it hurts like that. Just that it does, it makes everything inside me go loud. Violent.”
My eyes flutter shut for a second. The heat of his breath, the desperation in his words, it’s all too much. And not enough.
“You fuck with my head,” he murmurs, pressing me even closer until I feel him, all of him, against me. His half-hard cock presses into me, and my breath shudders, sharp and shaky.
“Don’t pull away from me again,” he says, voice rough with emotion but still laced with something soft. “Don’t run from me, Lucas. Not when it hurts. Not when you’re scared. Whatever it is that you’re carrying, lay it on me. I’ll take it. I want it.”
His hand curls at the back of my neck, not possessive this time, but pleading.
