Slow at first. Rocking my hips in small circles, getting used to the fullness, the way he filled me so completely there was no room for anything else. His hands spanned my waist, not guiding, just holding. Like he needed the contact to convince himself this was real.
“Hey.” I braced my hands on his chest, lifted up, sank back down. “I've got you. Just feel it. Just let yourself feel it.”
Something broke open in him then, the last of his resistance crumbling, the walls he'd built coming down. His hands slid up my back, pulled me close, and when he kissed me there was nothing held back. Just raw need and desperate hunger.
I rode him hard, harder. Faster. Found the angle that made sparks shoot up my spine and chased it. He matched my rhythm, his hips rising to meet mine, driving deeper with every thrust.
“Jamie—” My name in his mouth like it was the only word he knew. “I can't—I'm close—”
“Me too.” I reached between us, wrapped my hand around my own cock. “Come with me. I want to feel you.”
He grabbed my hips and thrust up hard, once, twice, and then he was coming with a groan that vibrated through my whole body. I felt him pulse inside me, felt the heat of it and that was enough to tip me over the edge. I came with a loud groan, spilling hot over my fist and his stomach.
For a long moment, neither of us moved.
Then Holden pulled me down against his chest and held on like he never wanted to let go.
“Hey,” I said against his skin, kissing his cheek. “You okay?”
He didn't answer for a moment. When he did, his voice was rough. “I forgot what this felt like.”
“What?”
“Being close to someone.” His arms tightened around me. “Being wanted.”
My heart cracked open a little wider. I pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heart.
“Get used to it,” I said. “Because I'm not done wanting you.”
He made a sound that might have been a laugh, or might have been something else entirely. His hand came up to stroke through my hair, gentle and reverent.
We stayed like that until our breathing slowed, until the sweat cooled on our skin, until he finally had to pull away to deal with the condom and the mess we'd made. But even then, even when he came back from the bathroom with a warm washcloth and cleaned us both up, even when we finally settled under the covers, he didn't let go.
He pulled me against his chest, my head tucked under his chin, his arm wrapped around me like a shield.
“Stay,” I said. “Tonight. Stay with me.”
“Yeah.” His voice was rough, already half-asleep. “I'll stay.”
I fell asleep with his heartbeat under my ear and his warmth all around me, and for the first time in months, I didn't feel alone.
Holden
Something wet touched my hand.
I opened my eyes to find Marceline six inches from my face, her tail wagging, her nose nudging my fingers where they hung off the edge of the bed. Bubblegum sat behind her, patient, waiting her turn.
Jamie's apartment. Jamie's bed. Jamie's dogs, staring at me.
I turned my head. The other side of the bed was empty, but the sheets were still warm. From somewhere beyond the closed door came the sound of a coffee grinder, cabinet doors opening and closing.
My arm was stiff from sleeping in one position too long. My body ached in ways that had nothing to do with discomfort and everything to do with the man currently making noise in the kitchen.
Last night.
The memory hit me in fragments. His hands on my skin. His mouth on my cock, Jesus, his mouth. The sounds he'd made when I worked him open, when I pushed inside. The way he'd looked riding me, flushed and desperate and beautiful, his head thrown back, his body taking everything I gave him.
His voice afterward, soft and fierce: Get used to it.
