And those eyes.
His eyes were wildfire. Green and unblinking. Trusting. Burning with a lustful need that matched my own.
I stroked myself slowly, slicking my cock while his gaze locked on my fist. Watching. Wanting. “Hold your legs up, baby.”
He obeyed instantly, grabbing behind his knees and spreading wide for me, exposing everything—open, raw, and only for me. My beautiful, ruined boy.
“Good,” I murmured. “Such a good fucking boy.”
I pressed the blunt head of my cock to his hole and watched him strain up to meet me, to take me in. My breath stuttered. His legs shook.
I bit my lip as I sunk into him. The tight heat of his body wrapping around me and sucking me in. I was torn between watching the ecstasy on his face and where his body opened for me as I entered him.
Once I was fully seated inside him, I covered his body with mine, feeling little pulses of electricity where our skin touched. My lips sealed around his, my tongue forced its way into his mouth, moving against his as I fucked into him.
We moved together like we were made of the same ruined pieces—grinding, gasping, and trembling with the kind of need that bordered on madness. It wasn’t just sex. It was claiming. It was war, and it was love.
I buried my face in his neck, my voice broken as I whispered, “I don’t want to go.”
His arms clamped around me like iron, legs wrapping around my hips as I fucked into him harder, punching the breath from his lungs. “I don’t want you to either,” he breathed, mouth at my ear, heart pounding against mine. “But you will be back before you know it.”
“Yesss,” I hissed as he clenched around me, the word dragging from my throat like a promise forged in fire and branded on skin. It wasn’t just pleasure—it was possession. A surrender sealed in sweat, spit, and the kind of hunger that bordered on madness.
His fingers tangled in my hair, gripping, anchoring—like if he held me tightly enough, he could stop the world from spinning.Like if he didn’t let go, time would freeze, and we’d live in this single moment of delirium forever.
We moved together, perfectly ruined. Our rhythm wasn’t just for release—it was a prayer. A cry for salvation or damnation; it didn’t matter. As I thrust into him, slow and deep, drawing out the high until it bordered on unbearable, I wasn’t Sin anymore.
I was his.
Only his.
Just us. Bound by skin, soaked in sweat, carved into each other like a sacrifice made to a god neither of us believed in anymore. I’d let the world burn. Let it choke on its own smoke and ash if it meant I could stay in this bed, in this moment, in this man—forever.
“That’s it,” I growled into his mouth, barely able to form words through the heat blistering my throat. “Come for me, baby.”
And he did.
His whole body went taut, head thrown back, every muscle flexing beneath me as he arched into my chest. Heat pulsed between us, his cock painting both our stomachs with thick, desperate ropes of cum, gasping out a moan so beautifully broken it filled in the cracks in my heart.
“Oh fuuuck,” he whimpered, lips trembling, eyes fluttering shut. His fingers tangled tighter in my hair, pulling me back in, his mouth crashing into mine like he was trying to breathe me in, like if he kissed me hard enough, we’d become one.
His tongue claimed me with every stroke, every filthy moan he poured down my throat, daring me to lose it—to come inside him like he was made for it. Like he’d been waiting his whole life to be full of me.
“Oh, oh, fuck yes, baby—” I broke the kiss with a snarl, burying my face in the crook of his neck and biting down hard to muffle the wrecked sound tearing from my lungs.
My cock jerked inside him, my hips bucking uncontrollably as I emptied myself into him, my hips grinding to drive in deeper. To keep it there. A piece of me. Inside him. A claim that couldn’t be erased.
Even when I was gone—he’d still have me. We lay there, breathless. Shaking.
His legs wrapped around my waist like he never wanted me to leave, arms clinging to me like I was the last thing keeping him grounded. My body pressed flush to his, the beat of our hearts trying to sync.
Everything else fell away. The world. The wreckage we came from. All that remained was this—us, tangled in sweat-slick limbs, shivering from the high of our orgasms.
Theo’s fingers stroked lazily through my damp hair, and I listened to his heartbeat slow beneath my ear. We didn’t speak. We just basked in the afterglow.
His breath whispered across my temple, and I felt it—that soft, silent ache that came after the storm. Peace. It might only be fleeting but it was ours.
My hair was still dampfrom our shower as I slipped on my black Brookhaven Ridge Country Club polo shirt with shaking fingers. Every breath scraped through my narrowing throat like I was inhaling broken glass.
