“Keep going,” he encouraged, low and soft but absolutely in control. “Want to watch you fuck yourself on me.”
I couldn’t help it—couldn’t hold back the sounds he dragged from me. I rode his thigh, rutting shamelessly, cock pressed hard against the muscle, underwear wet and sticky with precome.He palmed my ass, squeezing, forcing me down harder, making every thrust count.
He bent, bit my jaw, then licked a stripe up to my ear, breath hot and shivery. “You look so good like this, Nate. Desperate and needy. Never thought you’d fall apart for me so easy.”
His praise made me burn, made me grind harder, seeking every bit of pressure, every ounce of approval. He let me take what I needed, but never let me forget who was in control—hands holding, guiding, teasing, never quite giving in.
He shifted, rolling me beneath him, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand, his body blanketing mine, heat and muscle and the hard line of his cock pressed to my stomach. He rocked against me, slow and relentless, eyes locked to mine.
“You trust me?” he asked, voice soft but unyielding.
“With everything,” I breathed, arching into him, baring my throat, my chest, everything I had.
He kissed me, deep and filthy, tongue exploring, claiming. His free hand slid between us, palming my cock through my briefs, squeezing, stroking, drawing out every moan. He thumbed the head, rubbing the slick through the fabric, watching me writhe and gasp beneath him.
He broke the kiss, just long enough to drag his mouth down my body—sucking a mark onto my throat, biting my collarbone, licking a slow, wet line down my chest. He stopped at my nipple, biting, sucking, making me arch up, desperate, aching for more.
He let go of my wrists, but his hands didn’t leave me—they just slid down, tracing the lines of my hips, gripping firm but gentle as he rutted slow against me, cocks pressed together through damp, clinging cotton. Each grind stoked the fire, heat and friction setting every nerve in my body alight. I felt the strength in him, the restraint—how he held me still, letting me feel every roll of his hips, every ounce of control he was holding back for my sake.
He watched me the whole time, gaze hot and unbearably tender, drinking in every reaction I gave him. “I want to see you,” he murmured, voice rough with hunger but threaded with something softer. “Let me see how much you need this.”
I reached up, threading my hands in his hair, tugging him down for another kiss. This one was slower, deep enough to steal my breath, tongues tangling as I let myself fall apart in his arms. I was shaking with it—six years of want, every late-night memory, every fantasy I’d tried to bury, all rising to the surface at once.
Evan shifted, bracing himself on his forearms so he could cage me in but not crush me, his weight a promise instead of a prison. The muscles in his shoulders flexed as he hovered above me, but I could feel him trembling too, barely holding it together. I pressed my forehead to his, sharing the same breath, and let myself whisper, “I missed you. More than I ever said.”
His smile was a crack in the dam. “I know. I missed you so much it hurt.” He pressed his mouth to my jaw, my cheek, my temple, worshipping with lips and breath, lingering at the corner of my mouth like he couldn’t get enough.
His hands roamed everywhere—down my sides, over my ribs, thumbs stroking the lines of muscle. He kneaded my hips, squeezed my ass through the cotton, then traced gentle circles with his thumbs, grounding me. The way he touched me was almost reverent, like he was rediscovering something precious he’d lost.
I arched up, desperate for friction, feeling the heat of him pressed between my thighs, the heavy, leaking swell of his cock rubbing against mine, separated by nothing but the thin barrier of soaked fabric. The sensation was dizzying—wet, hot, so much and not enough at the same time.
“Evan,” I breathed, not even sure what I was asking for. Just more. Always more.
He bent his head, nuzzling at my throat, breath warm as he spoke against my skin. “I’ve wanted this—wanted you—since the first time I saw you walk through that door. Didn’t matter how much time passed. You’re the only thing I never let go of.”
The ache in his voice made my chest tight. I turned my head, kissed the curve of his jaw, dragged my tongue along the salt-slick skin, and let my hands explore him in turn. I palmed his chest, felt the hard muscle jump beneath my touch, then traced the line down to his stomach, savoring every shiver I drew from him.
His body was a map I’d forgotten how to read but never stopped loving. I mouthed at his pecs, bit gently at the soft flesh, then soothed the sting with my tongue, listening to the low rumble of pleasure in his chest. My hands explored his sides, the tight band of his waist, the way his breath hitched when I dug my fingers into the hard muscle above his briefs.
I wanted to worship him—wanted to show him that every inch was cherished, every scar and curve and line. I whispered his name between kisses, voice full of promise, letting him know he could have all of me, tonight and every night after.
He let me, shuddering as I worshipped him. When I pressed my lips to his throat, sucking a mark there, he tilted his head back, baring himself for me. His hands tightened on my hips, grinding us together, and I could feel how hard he was, how close he was to losing that careful control.
“Nate,” he breathed, a warning and a plea.
I answered by dragging my teeth down the slope of his shoulder, mouthing at the swell of his bicep, feeling the shiver ripple through him. I licked a bead of sweat from his skin, tasting the wildness there, then trailed my mouth down, over his chest, down the center of his stomach, until I was nuzzling the soft trail of hair that disappeared beneath his waistband.
He sucked in a breath, hips arching, but I kept it slow, savoring him. My fingers traced the outline of his cock through his underwear, feeling the heat and weight, the way he throbbed for me. I pressed my mouth to the damp spot at the front, inhaled the scent of him, then licked the fabric, tongue flat and slow.
He groaned, low and broken. “You’re killing me.”
I smiled, loving the power I had over him—the way he melted under my touch, all that strength turned soft for me. “Let me take care of you,” I whispered, mouth still pressed to his cock, breath hot through the cotton.
He nodded, hands trembling as he cupped my jaw, guiding me up for a kiss. “Anything. Anything you want.”
I crawled back up his body, pressing my chest to his, sliding my thigh between his legs. He rocked against me, his cock grinding into my hip, leaking through his briefs. I kissed him again, slow and filthy, letting him taste the want on my tongue.
“Been thinking about you every night,” I confessed, words slipping out between kisses. “Every time I touched myself, it was you. Always you.”
