I don’t bother to take my sweatpants off or my shirt. I get in on my side, noticing the modicum of space between us. I hate it. There never used to be space.
But now there is, and there is nothing I can do to stop it from getting bigger.
“Wasn’t sure you’d be here when I did,” I say honestly.
Wesley slides closer to me.
“Of course I’d be here,” he says, reaching for my face. “I’m always here.”
I grasp his hand with mine, running my thumb over the back of his hand.
For a moment he just looks at me, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Is he going to beat me to the punch? Is he thinking of her? Is he?—
His lips find mine without warning and he pulls me close into his space, and I don’t stop him. I can’t.
I fall into his kiss easily. It’s familiar, it’s warm, and it makes my already hard cock throb. Wesley slides his leg through mine, thrusting himself against me involuntarily.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes against my lips. “Adrien, I?—”
I kiss him because I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear his apology or his declaration that he didn’t mean it, that she meant nothing to him, because I know it’s a lie. Even if he believes it, I know the truth because I can see it with my own two eyes.
And maybe I want to prolong the inevitable. I want to just be here, with him in this moment, because it might be my last and I need him to know how much I fucking love him, even if I can’t say the words.
Wesley loosens as I slide my hand between his boxers, finding his cock hard and ready for me. There is no bloodheat scenting the air, only sweat and cum. I look between us, noting his boxers are still quite damp. My hand slides around his cock and I feel the faint stickiness of his precum coating his shaft. His bloodheat episode is likely over, but yet here he is— allowing me to kiss him, to touch him. Here he is, hard in my hand, his tongue in my mouth, and there is no bloodheat to blame.
And maybe that’s what hurts the most. Knowing what lies between Wesley and I is not something that is just circumstantial. Knowing that hewants me, even when he is not in the throes of his bloodheat.
But soon he will want her. Soon she will become what he craves, and I will be left alone, with only the memory of him to sate me.
He thrusts his cock in my hand, grasping my hip as he shoves my sweatpants down haphazardly.
“Wesley—”
I motion to stop him, and he lets out a deep cry.
A sob.
“I’m so sorry, Adrien, I didn’t mean, I just?—”
“No,” I tell him. “Do not apologize to me,” I say, sternly.
His hands move harshly as he tries to fight me, tries to reach my aching cock.
He looks up at me with watery eyes. “Why won’t you let me touch you?”
The ache in his voice breaks my own heart. He lets out a choked sob and I think I am well and truly broken.
Because what man in his right mind would cause someone they love so much pain?
“Because I need you to listen to me,” I say, imploring his gaze. His hand shakes in mine, and I can see the turmoil in his gaze.
But he doesn’t speak. He listens. He always listens when I use that voice. The one he likes to submit to.
“I am not mad at you,” I tell him, trying to make him understand. “I can not be mad that you are doing what you are supposed to do.”
I tug his cock lightly, my rhythm slow. His smooth velveteen shaft in my hand feels perfect. He fills my hand like he was madefor it.
Like he was made for me.
