I tightened my grip around our cocks, the other hand stroking down his damp back, tracing the dip of his spine, settling between the swell of his ass.
Without a word, he spread his legs, wrapping around me like he’d die if he didn’t touch me everywhere. My fingers found his entrance and circled the sensitive skin gently—a silent promise.
And that was it. That was all it took. He cried out, head thrown back, muscles trembling. His orgasm ripped through him, hot and fierce—cum spurting over my hand, our cocks, our chests.
Seeing him come—feeling him lose himself in me—it detonated something inside me. I came with a roar, thick ropes of cum coating us, painting him, marking him. I claimed him. Just like he claimed me.
Fireworks erupted overhead, a thunderous symphony of color lighting up the night sky. Red. White. Gold. Blue. Rained down around us as we struggled to breathe.
The explosions carved our features in sharp relief—his eyes wild, lips bitten, hands on my chest like he couldn’t bear to be anywhere I wasn’t.
I gripped him tighter, needing him closer, deeper, holding on like he was oxygen. Because he was. Because without him, none of it mattered. I didn’t know what came next. I didn’t know how to take this moment and carry it into tomorrow.
But right now—right here—we were gods on scorched earth. Everything was fragile and new. Rebuilt in the rubies of what had come before.
“They’re beautiful,” Theo said, wonder softening every edge of his voice like the night had woven itself into him.
“They’ve got nothing on you, baby.”
He smiled—small, crooked, and genuine. It carved a hollow ache into my chest. He looked like something untouched, even now, rumpled, skin glowing faintly in the dying shimmer of fireworks overhead.
“I’ve…” he hesitated as we separated, pulling his clothes back on, wiping the cum from his stomach with a handful of grass.
I sucked my fingers clean, the sound of my moan low and feral as our taste coated my tongue. “You’ve?” I murmured, breath brushing against the shell of his ear as I scooped more from my stomach and licked it off slowly.
“I’ve never watched them before,” he said, and the childlike awe in his voice made something tighten deep inside me.
“Mmmm. We’ll have to change that.”
He looked up at me, eyes darker now, more sure, hunger replacing awe. His hand curled around the back of my head and pulled me into him, mouth claiming mine with purpose. His tongue licked past my lips, stealing what was left, swallowing it like a secret between us.
“We taste good together,” he whispered, and the way he said it made it sound like a vow.
We finished redressing quickly, breath still ragged, muscles sore, the rush beginning to fade into something quieter. Theo held out his hand to me, fingers open, waiting.
“Come home with me?”
I hesitated—not because I didn’t want to, but because I was too tired to lie and too raw to pretend that this didn’t mean everything. The flicker of hope in his eyes cracked like porcelain when I didn’t answer right away.
Fuck.
“Or I can drive you home if you’d prefer space?” he said, voice careful now, shielding himself before I could even speak.
“What? No.” I licked my lips, trying to swallow down the nerves that had nothing to do with him and everything to dowith how close he suddenly felt. “I was just… trying to figure out what happened to my keys.”
He laughed but tried to hide it behind a cough. It didn’t work. God, he was beautiful when he let go.
“Well, the choice is yours,” he said, holding his hand out again—no pressure, just there, steady, like he’d always be there if I wanted.
I didn’t think. I just slid my fingers between his and felt the weight of him settle into me. Solid. Warm. Real.
“You’re blushing,” I teased, tapping my chin. “You know where they are, don’t you?”
“That I might,” he said, brushing a kiss against my temple. And I melted. Just a little.
“Is that all I get?” I asked, nudging him with my shoulder.
He squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back. We walked across the dew-slicked grass, aching, wrecked, not speaking. Not because we didn’t have things to say—fuck knows, there were so many things to say—but because the silence didn’t feel empty. It felt… earned. Comfortable, like we could take a moment and just be. Just breathe.
