I could feel it against his lips—this stupid, breathless, impossible happiness breaking through everything else. Like we’d finally stopped fighting. Like we’d finally admitted what this was.
Like we were free.
“I missed you,” I said against his mouth, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. This whole time.”
Liam pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes searching mine in the dim light.
“Me too,” he said.
The words hit me like a physical thing—hot and desperate and everything I’d needed to hear for a year.
Something in me snapped.
I grabbed him, spun us, pinned him against the wall with my whole body. Kissed him harder, deeper, my hands everywhere at once—his chest, his shoulders, his face—trying to touch all of him, trying to make up for a year of not touching him at all.
This is what honesty feels like.
This is what it means to stop lying.
This is what I want.
Liam groaned and the sound went straight through me. I kissed down his jaw, his neck, tasting salt and skin and the faint smell of soap. His pulse hammered under my lips and I wanted to mark him there, wanted everyone to know he was mine even though that was impossible, even though we couldn’t—
I didn’t care anymore.
I kissed lower. Down his throat. Down to his collarbone. Down to his chest through his shirt, my hands working under the fabric to feel the muscle there, the way he tensed and gasped when I touched him.
“Alex—“ His voice was wrecked. “What are you—”
I dropped to my knees.
Fuck it. Fuck everything. I want this. I want him.
My hands went to his belt. His zipper. I looked up at him—his green eyes wide and dark and full of want—and waited.
Liam nodded.
I unbuttoned his jeans. Pulled down the zipper. His cock was hard through his boxers and I pressed my mouth against it, felt him jerk and groan above me.
“Jesus Christ,” Liam breathed.
I pulled his dick free from his boxers.
He was big. Perfect. Already leaking precum at the tip.
I wrapped my tongue around the head, lapped up the salt and bitter taste of him, and Liam made a sound I’d never heard before—broken and desperate and so fucking hot I thought I might come just from hearing it.
His hand found the back of my head. Not pushing. Just there. Fingers threading through my hair.
I took him into my mouth.
Started slow. Then faster. Finding the rhythm that made his breath hitch and his hips jerk forward.
This is honest. This is real. This is what I’ve always wanted.
My cock was throbbing in my pants, so hard it hurt. I could feel precum soaking through my boxers, making them wet and sticky, but I didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything except the taste of him, the sounds he was making, the way his body responded to me.
I could feel him getting close—his breathing ragged, his hand tightening in my hair, his whole body tensing.
