Keaton’s heart raced as Jules’s hands moved lower, unbuttoning his jeans with a deliberate slowness that was both tantalizing and torturous. He could feel the tension building, the anticipation of what was to come. Jules’s fingers hooked into the waistband of his jeans, tugging them down along with his boxers, exposing him completely.
The cool air against his skin was a stark contrast to the heat of Jules’s touch. Keaton lay there, naked and vulnerable, but he feltno shame, only a deep sense of trust and connection. Jules’s eyes met his, filled with a mixture of desire and tenderness.
Jules’s hands slid up Keaton’s thighs, fingers tracing the sensitive skin, making him shiver with anticipation. When Jules finally wrapped their hand around his cock, Keaton let out a low groan, his hips instinctively thrusting forward. Jules’s touch was firm and confident, stroking him slowly, building the tension with each deliberate movement.
Keaton reached out, his hands finding Jules’s hips, pulling them closer. He loved the weight of Jules’s body on top of him, the softness of their skin, and the hardness of their own desire pressing against him. He curled his hand around the back of Jules’s neck, capturing Jules’s lips in a deep, passionate kiss, tasting the sweetness of their mouth.
The room was filled with the sound of their breaths and the soft moans of pleasure that escaped their lips. Keaton felt a sense of completeness, a connection that went beyond the physical, an unbreakable bond.
“Fuck, Jules,” he growled, breath stuttering at how easy it was for them to unravel him with nothing but a touch. “If you don’t get your hands or mouth on my dick, I’m going to blow untouched and embarrass myself.”
Jules’s mouth curved into a smile—mischief and adoration tangled up together. “You’re bossy,” they whispered, voice low and sweet and daring him to deny it. Their smile softened, turned almost shy as they pressed a kiss to the curve of his jaw. “But I like you best like this. Slow. Sweet.”
Keaton grinned—wry, a little feral. “Sweet? That’s not what you said last night.” He let his fingers trail between their legs,featherlight. Jules shivered, head falling back, throat bared and vulnerable.
“Touch me, Keaton,” they breathed, voice breaking on the need. “Please.”
He obeyed, wrapping his hand around their cock again, stroking slow, thumb circling the head. Jules’s hips jerked, breath catching on a soft curse. “God, yes—just like that.”
Keaton pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along their throat, down to their collarbone, tracing the lines of their tattoo with his tongue. “You always get so needy when you’re tired,” he murmured, voice velvet-wrapped steel. “Let me take care of you. Let me make you feel good.”
Jules whimpered, those long, lovely legs wrapping around his hips as soon as Keaton flipped them onto their back, heels digging into his ass, urging him closer. Keaton rocked against them, letting their cocks slide together, sticky and slick. He watched Jules’s face—every flicker of pleasure, every tremor of overwhelm—and let his own want show, unfiltered.
“Tell me what you need,” Keaton rasped, his hand working Jules’s cock in slow, firm strokes. “You want me to fuck you? Want my cock inside you, filling you up until you forget everything but me?”
Jules’s eyes fluttered open, pupils blown wide. “Yes. I need it. I want to feel you—just you. Nothing else.”
Keaton pressed a kiss to their lips, then slid off the bed long enough to snatch the bottle of lube from the drawer. He knelt between Jules’s thighs, spreading them wide. He slicked his fingers, eyes locked on Jules’s as he circled their hole, pressing in slow, letting them adjust to the stretch.
Jules gasped, hands fisting in the sheets. “You’re teasing,” they accused, but their voice shook with anticipation.
“Damn right,” Keaton said with a crooked smile. “You need to be unraveled sometimes. Let me.”
He worked them open slowly, two fingers twisting, curling, coaxing moans from Jules until their hips rolled up, desperate for more. Keaton’s own cock ached, heavy and flushed, but he held back—this was about Jules, about giving them a place to fall apart and be put back together.
When Jules was loose and panting, pleading, Keaton rolled on a condom, slicked himself, and lined up, pushing inside in one long, slow glide. Jules’s legs tightened around his waist, drawing him deeper, and Keaton groaned, the heat and tightness almost enough to unravel his careful control.
He braced himself above Jules, one hand fisting in the sheets, the other wrapped around Jules’s cock, stroking in rhythm with his thrusts. He kept his eyes locked on theirs, needing to see every shiver, every tremor, every bit of trust.
“God, you feel so good,” Keaton ground out, voice rough with feeling. “So perfect for me. Let go, Jules. Let me see you.”
Their hands tangled in Keaton’s hair, mouth open in a soundless cry as their body rocked with each thrust. Keaton felt the tension melting from their muscles. They clung to Keaton as if he were the only thing keeping them tethered to reality.
Keaton pressed kisses everywhere he could reach—shoulder, cheek, the damp line of their jaw. “You’re safe,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”
Jules’s orgasm hit first, sudden and shattering, their cock jerking in Keaton’s fist as they spilled across their belly. Their body clamped down around him, and Keaton followed with a groan, hips stuttering as he emptied himself, forehead pressed to Jules’s shoulder, breath coming hard and hot.
For a long moment, they stayed tangled together, sweat-slick and trembling, the outside world falling away. Keaton withdrew carefully, disposing of the condom, then crawled back up to gather Jules in his arms, pulling them close until their heartbeats synced and their breathing slowed.
Jules rested their head on Keaton’s chest, tracing lazy, contented circles on his skin. “Thank you,” they murmured, voice sleepy and sated. “For listening. For seeing me. For loving me—even when I’m a mess.”
Keaton pressed a kiss to the crown of their head, his hand rubbing slow circles over their back. “Always,” he promised. “You get to be as messy as you need. I’m not looking for perfect. I’m looking for you.”
Keaton woketo the hush he’d always loved about early mornings, the world on pause, everything soft-edged and weightless for a few precious minutes. This had always been his favorite time of day, but having the luxury of watching Jules sleep was something he hadn’t realized he was missing out on.
They slept on their side, tangled in a mess of sheets, hair sticking up at improbable angles. Their mouth was parted in a gentle sigh, one hand curled against Keaton’s chest as if afraid he might vanish if they let go. It was the first time in a week they lookedtruly content and unbothered by the stress they’d been carrying around.
For a while, Keaton didn’t move. He just watched Jules breathe. Awe pooled low in his chest, an ache that wasn’t pain so much as astonishment that he was here, in this bed, with someone who trusted him enough to show him their vulnerabilities, trusted Keaton to take care of them.
