“Tap is fine,” I say, making it real.
He wets his lips, thinking.“My note: when she fell apart, I wanted to hand her over to you, run outside, and scream into the wind until I stopped shaking.Instead, I stayed seated and pretended to be a mountain.”He winces at the image.“I don’t do mountains.”
“You don’t have to.”I feel the words before I shape them.“Sit.Breathe.Tell me when you’re at an eight and I’ll bring you down to a six before you try to save the planet.”
He studies me like I handed him something to keep.“Okay.”
We drop to the rug.The room smells faintly of cedar polish and tea.I pull a small notebook from the nightstand and flip to a blank page.
“Two items,” I say, pen poised.“A touch we keep strictly nonsexual.And a move that’s a bid—so neither of us has to guess.”
“Foreheads,” he says without hesitation.“Safe.”
“Palms too,” I add, placing my hand against his.Skin to skin settles between us like a small truce.
He swallows, and I let my thumb slide just to the edge of his waistband—small, knowing, a question pressed against skin.The contact is quiet but speaks; his breath catches where my touch lands.
“Will it be okay ...?”I start, voice thin and small for once.“I know we said no sex, but that was before.”My thumb keeps moving slowly, tracing the hip bone like I’m mapping a route back to him.“I need you to take charge of me tonight.Remind me I’m wanted.Show me how to come back from the place I get lost in.Tell me I’m yours and mean it.”
He looks at me for a long beat, his eyes soft and dangerous all at once.Then his mouth quirks, a crooked promise.He slides his hand up to cover mine, his fingers warm, and his heat under my palm makes something in me unclench.
“Okay,” he says, low and close.“I’ll take care of you.”
Barret’s hands move to my shirt, tugging it over my head with a patience that feels foreign between us.Usually, it’s me rushing to strip him down, to shoulder the care, but tonight his fingers are slow, reverent, each button and tug an act of possession.
He kisses me before I can breathe—soft at first, lingering on my lips as though memorizing the taste.Then he pulls back just enough to look at me, and his voice is raw velvet.“You’re beautiful like this.Do you know that?The way you let me see all of you.”
My throat closes.No one compliments me like this—not without expecting something in return.But his mouth trails down my jaw and along the curve of my neck, marking me with kisses that feel more like reverence than sin.He unbuttons my jeans slowly, carefully sliding the zipper down, his knuckles grazing my stomach until I shiver.
When he pushes the denim off my hips, his eyes drop to where I’m already hard for him.He hums low, satisfied, brushing his thumb across the head, smearing the slick, then lifting his hand to his mouth.His tongue licks the taste clean, and I groan so loud it feels like a confession.
“Fuck, B—” My head falls back.
“Eddie,” he says against my lips, his voice cracked open with need.“You don’t always have to hold me up.Let me hold you tonight.”
His words sink into me deeper than any touch.He eases me onto the bed, straddling my hips, his gaze fixed like I’m the only thing that matters.Each kiss down my chest feels like a vow without the word, his tongue circling my nipple, his teeth grazing, just enough to make me writhe.He whispers between each touch—perfect, mine, beautiful.Every syllable unravels me.
When his mouth trails lower, I grab his wrist, desperate.“Barret—if you keep this pace, I’ll lose my fucking mind.”
He smirks, wicked and tender.“That’s the point.”
He frees me entirely, my cock flushed and aching.His hand wraps around me, stroking slowly, purposefully, his eyes never leaving my face.“You’re gorgeous when you let go,” he murmurs.“I want every sound you’ve ever swallowed down.Give them to me.”
I’m shaking, overwhelmed by the way he worships me, the way he takes charge with restraint and devotion.My chest heaves, my breath ragged as he kisses the tip, then licks down the length, sucking me into his mouth with a groan that vibrates through my core.
“Fuck,” I choke out, clutching his hair, not to force him but to keep myself from flying apart.Tears sting behind my eyes—not from pain, but from how much this means, from how much I need him.
Barret pulls off just long enough to look up at me, lips wet, eyes fierce and soft.“Let me love you like this, Eddie.Let me be the one tonight.”
And I can’t say no.Not when my whole body feels like it’s splitting open for him, not when every touch is salvation disguised as sin.
He drags his mouth lower, kissing down my length, tongue tracing me like he’s hungry to learn every ridge.His hand strokes me while his lips find my sack, sucking one side into his mouth before moving to the other, rolling them gently on his tongue.I groan, fists tangling in the sheets, hips twitching, but he pins me down with a palm across my stomach, controlling me with nothing but tenderness.
“Fuck, B ...”My voice shreds as he licks lower, between, teasing until his tongue circles my hole.My body jerks, and I bite down on a moan so guttural it hurts.His hand never stops stroking me, slow and sure, while his tongue works me open, slick and sinful.
I can’t hold back.“Please,” I gasp.“Please, Barret—fill me.I need you inside me, all of you.I need it now.”
He pulls back just enough to kiss the inside of my thigh, his lips brushing skin that’s hot and damp.“You’re begging like a freakin’ dream.,” he whispers, voice hoarse.“I’ve dreamed about this.About you opening for me, about you giving me everything.”
