And I kissed him back like he was the only thing keeping me whole.
Steam fogged the glass as our bodies collided. Fingers clawed at slick skin. Hands gripped. Touched. Marked. His desperation poured out in his tight grip, in the bruising hold of my hips against the cold tile. The water couldn’t cool us, couldn’t cleanse us. We were too far gone.
“Theo,” he breathed against my throat, his voice cracked open with reverence. “You’re the only thing that’s ever felt real. The only one.”
My moan was ragged, feral. One leg curled around his waist, grinding our cocks together.Needing.Aching. “Then trust me. Trust us.”
“I don’t know how to survive this world without you,” he confessed, forehead pressed to mine, breath shattered. “I don’t want to learn. I want tobelongto you in every way.”
The ache in his voice gutted me. “You already do,” I whispered, kissing the words into his mouth like a vow.
His hand found both our lengths, slick with water and precum. Our bodies moved in rhythm, fevered and fast, chasing our release like it was the only way to outrun the things we couldn’t say. We came together in a blur of sensation—thick ropes of cum washing away under the spray, but the need between us remained, etched in our skin, seared into our bones.
When he collapsed into me, head buried in my neck, I held him like a man anchoring the tide. I stroked his back over and over. Not to calm him—but tokeep him.To remind him that he was still here. Stillmine.
And in that moment, I felt it. His weight shifted—not just physical—but emotional. Like he’d handed me a piece of himself he’d never given another soul. A part of him no one even knew existed.
We dried off in silence, towels clinging to damp skin. The quiet wasn’t awkward. It was reverent. Sacred. Heavy with everything we’d just given each other and everything we had yet to give.
The crew greetedus warmly as we made our way outside—smiles, nods, the kind of easy camaraderie that had formed since we’d set sail. Breakfast was a spread of fresh fruit, flaky croissants, eggs cooked to our preferences, poached for me, sunny side up for Sin, and his favorite dark coffee that smelled like salvation.
Once we’d eaten our fill, we took the tender to shore; wind whipped in our hair, the island drawing closer like a mirage come to life.
St. Barts was even more stunning up close. Winding stone streets. Vibrant flowers spilling from balconies. The scent of salt and sugar in the air. We wandered through local boutiques and tiny art galleries, hand-in-hand, unbothered by the occasional glance our way.
Lunch was served feet from the water, under a striped umbrella that flapped gently in the breeze. Grilled seafood, chilled wine, and Sin’s bare foot teasing up my thigh beneath the table like we were a couple of teenagers.
He smiled at me like he had a secret. Like he was enjoying pushing me to the edge of my sanity. I loved seeing him like this, carefree and alive in a way I’d never known before.
I was so caught up inusthat I didn’t realize hours had passed as we talked about everything and nothing and consumed enough wine to float a bar. The tide washed over our toes, making me jump and Sin laugh from deep within. The sound low, and free.
Back onThe Futureby late afternoon, the sky had begun to shift—sun bleeding slowly into dusk, the air cooling as the ocean glittered like a sheet of black glass.
I didn’t know what Sin had planned.
Didn’t see the candles being arranged on the upper deck. Didn’t hear the quiet clink of glasses being polished, or smell therich spices wafting from the galley where the chef was preparing something special.
But I knew something had changed when I found him standing at the edge of the deck later that night, the stars exploding overhead like a silent firestorm.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just pulled me close, fingers curled in the fabric of my shirt, his lips brushing mine like a slow burn as he breathed me in.
And then he kissed me—deep and slow—like it was the first time, like it would be the last. Like the only way to survive this kind of love was to surrender to it completely.
Dinner was perfect. Candlelight. Laughter. Wine. Us.
But what came after—back in the master cabin, the salt air still clinging to our skin—was something else entirely.
Sin pressed me down onto the bed, his body heavy and sure above mine, eyes glassy with emotion and want and something deeper. Something that looked a lot like the endless love I had for him.
“I want to give this to you,” Sin breathed, his lips brushing the shell of my ear like a confession. “All of me. I want to crawl inside you. I want to feel you under my skin. I want you to have all of me, Theo.”
My chest tightened. He kissed me again—slow, reverent, trembling with need—and it wasn’t just about sex. It was about surrender. It was about choosing to be stripped bare in front of me and trusting I wouldn’t break him.
“Are you sure?” I rasped as he tore my shirt down the middle, buttons scattering like shrapnel. His mouth was on me instantly, worshipping the planes of my chest, tracing each muscle like he was trying to memorize me from the inside out.
He met my gaze with a heat so fierce it bordered on madness. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be on my knees for you.”
And he was—beautiful and unhinged, a tangle of desire and devotion. His tongue swept along the length of my cock, slow and teasing, before he sucked me down to the root. My hands flew to his head, fingers tangling in his hair as he swallowed around me, moaning like he needed the taste of me to live. His cheeks hollowed, his throat worked as he swallowed me down before dipping his tongue into the slit, teasing out the precum that was already leaking. My mind white-noised with pleasure so intense I forgot my own name.
