"Anything you want. Anything."
Suppressing a growl, he plundered Tristan's mouth again and felt a hand thread lightly through his hair in a gentle and intimate gesture he realized he'd never felt before.
There was no way he could stop now, he realized in some deep corner of his brain, not with this driving obsession that consumed him. Grinding their erections together ripped an erotic moan from Tristan's throat that had his dick pulsing with need.
As desire tipped into desperation, he tore Tristan's boxers down over his hips, then wrapped his fist around his cock, already hard and leaking.
"Oh god, yes!"
The cries spurred him on as he ran his thumb over the tip, trying to spread pre-cum to ease his slide. Impatient with the dryness, he reluctantly rolled over and shucked off his boxer briefs in one swift motion.
As he fumbled for the lube, he heard an urgent, "Hurry!"
More than willing to obey, he squirted too much on his hand in his haste, then lay back down on his side. Tristan crushed himself against his chest as if an invisible string jerked him forward, and swooped in for the kiss this time, sparking a surge of heat as Cade realized the other man wanted this as much as he did.
He reached down to encircle both of their lengths, and with their noses brushing and their lips so close they breathed each other's air, it didn't take long for his skillful hand to drive them both to the brink. The tug of Tristan's fingers in his hair grounded him and reminded him this was real, even if it wouldn't last.
The words, "Don’t stop. I'm close," hummed in his ears, and he almost laughed at how absurd the notion of stopping was. When he twisted his hand on the upstroke, Tristan tensed for a split second, then let out a low, lewd moan as he came, and Cade followed close behind, prompted by his partner's erotic noises and the cum that eased the messy slide of his hand.
Locking their mouths together to swallow Tristan's groans, Cade worked them through their orgasms, then slowed and finally stopped.
Their mouths still touched, but the kiss became slower and softer as he nipped at bruised lips, not to wound or pierce, but to tease and play.
Riding the high of the orgasm, he felt the undeniable pull of this connection that tethered them, and some impulse he couldn't understand drove him to prolong the moment, to keep them pressed together, to preserve the fragile magic for as long as possible.
Because if he let go, the spell would break, and the fairy tale would end.
After they were clean and back under the covers, Cade lay in the dark trying to untangle the snarl of emotions he'd been battling all day.
Tristan was curled up to him again, pressed tightly to his side, his arm and leg wrapped possessively around him. But instead of the expected panic, he only felt contentment and finally understood the appeal of choosing someone special to share his life with.
He never allowed himself the luxury of getting close to someone, never let himself care deeply, not anymore.
Because caring meant you got hurt.
That reality had been the one immutable truth in his life.
But he'd let himself care about Tristan, and he was barreling toward inevitable heartbreak. Like the other times before, the point would come when he'd have to let go, because what choice did he have?
When had he ever had a choice?
This time, though, the price would be steep, because when Tristan walked away, he'd take a piece of Cade with him.
A soft voice floated to him from the darkness, interrupting his fatalistic thoughts.
"Cade?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he lied.
Seconds ticked by, but he knew Tristan wasn't done talking.
"Cade?"
"Mmm?"
