I stroke him slowly, learning the weight of him in my hand, the way he jerks when I twist my wrist, the way his breathing gets ragged when I squeeze just right. His eyes are closed, jaw clenched, and he's so beautiful like this, undone and vulnerable and trusting me.
"You're so hard," I whisper.
He exhales a shaky laugh. “You say that like it’s my fault.”
I stroke him a few more times, watching his face, memorizing every reaction. The way his abs tense, the way his hands fist in the sheets, the way he's letting me have this moment without rushing me.
"I need to take these off." I gesture to my own shorts.
"Okay."
I stand and shed my pajama shorts and underwear. The vulnerability of being naked should be terrifying, but it's not. Not with the way he's looking at me.
He's looking at me like I'm something precious, not with pity or discomfort, just want and tenderness and something deeper I can't name.
"You're sure about this?" he asks.
"I'm sure."
I climb back onto the bed and straddle him. His hands go to my hips, holding me steady but not controlling.
"Do you want me to—" He gestures vaguely toward the nightstand. "Condom?"
“Yes, please.”
He reaches over and fumbles in the drawer, pulls out a foil packet, tears it open, and rolls the condom on carefully.
I'm poised above him now, heart pounding, hands shaking. His cock is positioned at my entrance, and I can feel the heat of him, the promise of what's about to happen.
"We can stop," he says again.
"No." I lower myself slowly, just the tip at first. "I want this."
The stretch is immediate, and I pause, adjusting to the sensation.
"Are you okay?" His voice is strained, every muscle in his body tense with the effort of staying still. "Maya, are you okay?"
"Yes. Just give me a second."
"Take all the time you need."
I breathe and sink another inch. The stretch intensifies, and I stop again, my body adjusting to accommodate him.
"You feel so good," he murmurs. "So perfect."
I lower myself another inch, then another, taking him in small increments. It's slow and deliberate and exactly what I need.
Eventually, I'm fully seated with his cock buried inside me, and the fullness is overwhelming in the best way.
The tears come, not from pain but from release, from feeling in control of my own body for the first time in months.
"Maya." Jackson's voice is gentle, worried. "Talk to me. Are you okay?"
"Yes." I'm crying and laughing at the same time. "Yes. I'm okay. I'm choosing this."
"Do you want to stop?"
"No." I rock my hips, testing the sensation, and it sends sparks through my nerve endings. "No. I want to keep going. Please."
