Then he takes more of me, and I groan when the tip hits the back of his throat.
I slam a hand over my mouth to stave off the rising scream, but he doesn’t stop. If anything, that spurs him on. I feel his hand curl tighter under me, pulling me closer. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. His lips stretch around me, saliva pooling and dripping as he takes me deeper. I nearly lose it when I feel him swallow.
I’m not going to last.I can’t.My thighs are shaking, my stomach is tensing, and he knows it. He wants it.
He pulls off with a wet pop, spit making the whole thing look obscene, and smirks up at me, stroking my cock. “Fuck mymouth. Let me gag on you, Babygirl. Show me how much you want it.”
Then he’s back on me, and I rock up, shallow thrusts into his mouth. Spit slicks down my shaft, and his thumb slides lower, circling my hole with slow, knowing pressure. He moans low around me, and the sound sends me right over the edge.
My fingers bury in his hair as I pulse hot into his mouth, and he doesn’t pull back. He swallows everything I give him, holding me through every twitch and shudder until I’m half-limp and wrecked beneath him.
When he finally lets me go, he kisses the crease of my thigh. His mouth is glistening, lips red and swollen, and he’s got that smug, satisfied look again—the one that saysI win.
“You,” he says, voice hoarse, grinning wide as he licks his lips, “are way bigger than you have any right to be.”
I’m breathless. Boneless. Ruined in the best fucking way. “That was—”
“A-plus?” he teases, nuzzling the inside of my leg.
I manage a breathless laugh. “A-plus, extra credit, full marks forever.”
He crawls back up the bed like a cat, stretching out beside me, mouth brushing mine with the ghost of a kiss. “Still wanna skip breakfast?” he whispers, breath hot against my lips.
I just pull him down for another kiss, tasting myself on his tongue, and decide that if this is how Damien starts a Saturday, I’m never sleeping alone again.
Damien
I’mpullinglastnight’sjeans over my hips while my heart’s still somewhere up in my throat, adrenaline humming with the quiet, furtive panic of not wanting to get caught. The sun’s up now—real, blinding daylight—casting enough glow from behind the blackout curtains to remind me exactly how exposed we’d both be if one of the guys barged in without warning.
Noah’s scrambling around the room with his own kind of silent urgency. He’s already got his pants on, bralette hidden away under my baggy tee, jockstrap, and slip chain stuffed quickly into his backpack.
He looks soft, sheepish, and still a little unsteady, but there’s something else too—pride, maybe, or the kind of satisfaction that comes from being brave in a way nobody but the two of us gets to see. I want to haul him right back into bed and keep him there until the world stops spinning.
But I know how it would go if any of the guys caught him here now, especially after the night we had. He’s not ready for that—not the questions, not the noise, not the thousand ways this house doesn’t know how to keep a secret.
I glance at him, offer my hand, and he takes it with a nervous squeeze, letting me guide him quietly out of the bedroom.Huh. The door was locked.We tiptoe past Ryan’s door—he always leaves it cracked, and I swear he’s got radar for gossip—then down the stairs, skirting the worst of the creaky steps.
The kitchen’s already alive with the chaos of the Sin Bin morning—Killian’s sharp voice, Roman’s laughter, someone humming off-key as the coffee pot spits and gurgles. I feel the tension ratchet up in Noah’s shoulders, the realization hitting him that he’s about to have to face them after they figure out that he snuck in.
I squeeze his hand and lean in, whispering against the shell of his ear. “Don’t worry about breakfast, Blue. You’re not ready for that crowd. We can work up to it, yeah?” He nods, relieved, and I duck us out the back, keys in my fist, letting the morning air chill away any lingering embarrassment.
We slip out through the mudroom and into the garage, dodging the battered basketballs and half-broken soccer cleats that litter the floor. I unlock the car, open the passenger-side door, and gesture for him to get in before I settle behind the wheel.
“Thanks,” he says, glancing over. “For… not making it weird.”
I reach over and curl my hand around his thigh, thumb stroking gently. “I told you, Blue. I’ll take care of you. No one needs to know anything you’re not ready for.”
He nods, worry easing off his face, and sits back, hands folded in his lap. We don’t talk as I drive the short way to his apartment, both of us just sitting in the silence that’s never been awkward, even when we were kids. He’s quiet, but he’s not closed off.Every minute, I see the tension melt a little more, replaced by the slow return of that soft, private smile he only lets out when he feels safe.
I park outside his building, engine idling. Neither of us moves right away, because there’s something heavy between us that needs words, not just quiet. I watch him fidget with the hem of my shirt, biting his lip, not quite ready to get out.
He glances at me, blue and brown eyes steady. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” he murmurs, voice gone small in the hush of the car. “I could’ve driven back to the apartment myself, since my car is there.”
I shake my head, leaning over to brush my lips over his hair. “Not a chance. I wanted to be the one to bring you home,” I say, kissing the side of his head. “I’ll bring your car around tonight, yeah?”
He bites his lip, glancing at me finally, and I see the question lingering there—the fear that he’s too much, that I’ll want less the more he shows. It guts me every time.
“Mien, I—” He cuts himself off, swallows hard, and starts again. “I just need you to know that when it comes to… this stuff. Sex, bodies, all of it. I’m always going to be slow. I’m always going to need reassurance. Sometimes I might freak out. Sometimes I might get quiet, or weird, or need a lot of time before I’m okay again.”
