The pleasure continues to build, intense in a way I’m not used to, but it’s not enough.
In desperation, I grab his wrist, pulling his fingers from my body, and rise up onto my knees to position myself. I need to do this while everything still feels good, need to reclaim what was stolen from me before it slips from my grasp again.
“Hey, take it slow,” he cautions. “There’s no rush.”
“Fuck you,” I pant as I try to sink down on hishard length, but his blunt head slides up my lubed crack instead, and I growl with frustration.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He rolls us over, positioning himself above me with careful movements. “Is this okay?”
“Just do it already.” My legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer in an invitation I haven’t extended to anyone since before juvie.
Gabriel’s cock pushes into me, inch by inch, his eyes locked on mine the whole time. The stretch burns, my body fighting the intrusion despite how much I want it. My breath catches when he’s halfway in, and the cold memory of concrete against my back flashes, but then his tongue strokes mine, dragging me out of those memories.
My fingers dig into his shoulders, holding on as he fills my body, the heavy weight of him inside me nothing like those other times. This is my choice. My want. My body opening for him because I said yes.
“Stay with me,” he murmurs, his forehead pressed to mine, breath mingling with my own. “Right here, with me.”
His hips rock into mine in a gentle rhythm that curls my toes, his cock hitting my prostate with each thrust. I dig my nails into his back, the muscles flexing under my fingertips as he works above me. Hishand grips my jaw, thumb rough on my cheekbone, holding me there so I can’t look away.
My orgasm builds from the base of my spine outward, my ass clenching around him as I come untouched, cum spattering hot between our stomachs. I arch off the bed, a broken sound tearing from my throat.
Gabriel’s thrusts turn erratic, his breath hot gasps on my neck.
“Saint,” he groans, driving in deep and holding there as he pulses inside me, filling me up.
For those brief, suspended seconds, I forget to be afraid. Forget about walls and defenses. Forget everything except the connection between us.
And in that moment of forgetting, I find a peace I thought had been beaten out of me years ago.
We collapse together, his body like a weighted blanket holding me down on the mattress before he rolls to the side, our chests heaving in unison. The air cools the sweat on my skin as reality filters back in. The ceiling comes into focus above me, water stains forming images I’ve memorized during sleepless nights.
My body hums with aftershocks while my mind races to catch up with what just happened. Emotions I have no name for swell within me, too many tocontain, threatening to drown me from the inside out.
Gabriel lies beside me, his breathing slowed to a steady rhythm. He doesn’t reach for me, doesn’t try to pull me close again, doesn’t demand cuddles. He simply exists beside me, patient in his stillness, waiting for me to decide what happens next.
I want to turn toward him. Want to sink against his side, bury my nose in the spot behind his ear, and have his arms wrap around me. Want the comfort of human contact without the price tag of pain or power that’s always been attached to it.
But wanting has never been safe for me. It leads to vulnerabilities, disappointment, and betrayal. Wanting is a luxury for people whose childhoods weren’t spent learning that attachment always ends in abandonment.
Gabriel shifts beside me, his hand turning palm-up on the sheet between us in an invitation without pressure. “You okay?”
Am I okay? Has anyone ever asked me that and actually wanted the truth?
I search for the lie, for the automatic “fine”, but find myself unable to speak the lie.
“I don’t know.”
Gabriel accepts this without pushing for more,and the quiet returns, punctuated only by our breathing and the distant sounds of a siren wailing blocks away.
My thoughts circle back to the envelope, and the fear returns, coiling in my stomach, but it’s not the blind panic from before. It’s a clear awareness of danger. Whatever comes next, I won’t be alone.
The realization should comfort me. Instead, it terrifies me more than any threat. Because if Gabriel stands with me, he becomes a target, too.
And if I lose him because of it…
Before I can talk myself out of it, I roll onto my side, facing him, studying the outline of his profile in the dim light. He stares at the ceiling, giving me privacy even as he lies naked beside me.
When I shift closer, his attention stays fixed upward, allowing me to approach on my terms.
