“Yeah,” I whisper.“Whatever you need.”
His mouth meets mine then, tentative at first, testing the shape of it, like he’s not sure he’s allowed.I answer without words, tipping into him, letting him lead.
The kiss deepens, hungry, not hurried.We taste like rain and heat and nerves, and something more desperate under that.Something that’s been waiting for a long time tofeel safe enough to ask.
My hand slides up his spine, damp skin meeting mine.He trembles, not from cold.From everythingleavinghim all at once.
I hold him tighter.We don’t speak.
His hand slips under my shirt, fingers brushing my ribs.His touch is light but purposeful, like he’s not exploring my body so much as grounding himself with it.
I let him pull the shirt off, and then we’re bare from the waist up, chest to chest, skin warming skin.His breath hitches at the contact, his eyes flicking up to mine, searching.
I don’t ask what he sees.I just lean forward again, kissing him deeper this time, our mouths finding rhythm.The tension that wrapped tightly around him earlier is loosening now.He opens under my hands, inch by inch, without words.
His pants are still soaked, and when I reach for the button, he pulls back, his body going rigid.
I still him with a hand on his thigh.“It’s okay,” I murmur.“Let me help.”
He nods.I kneel between his legs, undoing the button with care.The denim peels away heavy, sticking to his skin.He lifts his hips to help, and when I draw the fabric down, he exhales hard, jaw tight.He’s half-hard already, his briefs clinging and damp.
His eyes meet mine again.There’s no fear now.Just a plea he doesn’t say aloud.
I hook my fingers in the waistband of his underwear and draw them down slowly, watching his body unfold for me, exposed and vulnerable, like an offering.
When I stand, he reaches for me without hesitation and unfastens my pants, his fingers clumsy at first, then more sure.He slides them down, along with everything underneath.
Now we’re both bare.Equal.Wanting.
I straddle his lap, our cocks pressed together, slick and hot.He gasps, gripping my hips like he doesn’t trust himself not to fall apart.I roll my hips, slow and steady.Letting the friction speak for us.Letting the heat climb.
His lips part against my neck.His hands find my back.We move together, not rushed, not desperate.Justneeding.Wanting to be felt.To be known.
His calloused hand rubs my cock raw, and the sensation drives me out of my mind.I want him to handle me roughly, to let his pain and his secrets spill into me.
A burden shared is a lighter load to carry.
My ass slaps against his hairy thighs.His breath heats my neck, my ear, until he growls, “My God, you’re just what I needed.”
When he finally comes, it’s with a groan buried in my shoulder, his whole body shaking, holding onto me like I’m the only solid thing left.I follow seconds later, hips stuttering, forehead pressed to his.
Breathless.
Spent.
And for the first time since he walked in dripping with rain and silence, he smiles.Not wide.Not bold.Just a small, stunned curve of his mouth.Like maybe this is the first good thing he’s had in a while.
And I’m still holding him when the room fades to quiet again.
He stays wrapped around me longer than I expect.Usually, after, there’s a shift.A pulling away.A silence that thickens.But not with him.
The stranger holds on like he’s afraid he’ll forget how it felt if he lets go too fast.Like my skin is still the only thing keeping him tethered.
His breath slows against my neck.The tension that coiled in him earlier is still there, but softer now.Less clenched.
He speaks quietly, eyes still closed.Just resting his forehead to my collarbone, his voice is barely more than a breath.
“He called today.After nine months of nothing.”
