His fingers tremble where they clutch at my shoulders. Part of him is still unsure and hesitant. But his body… his body already knows what it wants. It’s begging for me with every roll of his hips, every stuttering breath, every desperate sound.
“A–Alex,” he gasps, voice cracking on my name. “Please…”
The sound of him pleading, voice trembling, my name spilling from his lips, coils hot and dark in my gut. Possessive. Primal. I want more. I want him writhing under me, crying out for me, until there’s no question who he belongs to. I shift beneath him and grind up hard into him, the choked gasp he gives nearly undoes me.
“Please, what, krasivy?” I murmur against his throat, savoring the shudder that runs through him.
“I…I don’t know,” he stammers, breathless, voice breaking.
I hum low against his skin, and he jolts when my tongue flicks over his nipple. His moan turns high, almost a whimper,as his fingers tangle hard in my hair. His body trembles above me, so responsive, so alive. I suck lightly at first, then harder, teasing, tormenting, while my fingers roll the other. He’s shaking now, every sound spilling from him raw, unfiltered.
“I think…” he pants, voice barely a whisper, broken and needy. “I think I’m going to—”
My hands grip his waist harder, holding him down against me, making him feel every inch of me as I rasp, dark and coaxing, “yeah…come for me, baby.”
He whimpers, his body trembling violently, hips rolling with desperate rhythm. His breath comes in short, shattered gasps, and then he breaks.
A strangled cry tears from his throat as he comes undone in my lap. His body arches, shuddering hard, head tipping back, lashes fluttering. His mouth falls open, perfect lips parted in a silent gasp, his cheeks flushed deep crimson.
It’s devastatingly beautiful. Watching him unravel like this, falling apart in my arms. It nearly drags me over with him.
I hold him through it, murmuring low, grounding, until the tremors start to fade. His breathing is ragged, shallow, his body loose and spent. When it’s over, he slumps against me, burying his face in my neck like he wants to disappear there.
He’s shaking, not with fear, but from the sheer intensity of release. I smooth a hand down his back, slow, steady strokes, pressing a kiss into his hair.
“Shh,” I whisper against his temple. “I’ve got you.”
He exhales against my skin, warm and uneven, clinging like he’s afraid to let go.
***
Lucas trembles faintly in my arms as I carry him upstairs. His breathing is uneven, shallow against my neck, but he doesn’t resist. He doesn’t say a word. He just clings—like the ground might give out beneath him if he lets go.
In the bathroom, I set him down gently on the counter. My hands linger at his waist, feeling how small he is under my touch. Too small. Too fragile. His lips are parted, still swollen from my kiss, and for one long, brutal second, all I want to do is claim them again. To drag my teeth across his jaw, leave another mark, another reminder of me stamped into his skin.
I’m still hard, throbbing, unsatisfied. My body wants. But my eyes catch on his expression.
He swallows, throat bobbing, and he doesn’t meet my gaze.
“I can handle it from here,” he murmurs, voice so soft it almost disappears. His fingers curl into the fabric of his pants, knuckles white.
I don’t move. I just watch him, letting the silence stretch until it’s nearly unbearable. He’s retreating. I can see it in the slope of his shoulders, in the way he won’t look at me. He’s building his walls back up, brick by brick, trying to keep me out.
I lean in anyway, lowering my voice, letting it slip into something quiet, almost dangerous.
“Are you sure?” I ask with a raised brow.
His breath stutters. For a second, I think he’ll break, that he’ll let me see what’s really going on in his head. But then he nods quickly, still avoiding me.
“Yeah. Just… give me a minute.”
My jaw tightens. Every instinct in me screams not to leave him like this. Not when I just had him in my arms, unraveling. Not when I’ve seen how beautiful he looks when he lets go, when he’s mine. But I don’t push. I force myself to step back, to let him breathe.
“Wear whatever you want from the closet,” I tell him, my voice steadier than I feel.
He nods again. But there’s something in the way his lips part, like he wants to say something else, something he can’t get past his throat. I wait. Nothing comes, so I leave. The second thedoor closes behind me, I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling hard.
Fuck.
