Silence falls between us, comfortable and safe. I can feel Jay's breathing slowing, deepening, his body growing heavier against mine. He's falling asleep, sinking into it.
"I'm glad you're here," he whispers. "I'm so glad you came."
"Me too."
His breathing evens out completely. His hand goes still on my stomach. Within minutes, he's completely asleep, his full weight resting against me.
I lie there in the dark, holding him, listening to him breathe, feeling his heartbeat against my side. The exhaustion is pulling at me too,dragging me down toward sleep with heavy hands. But I fight it for a few more minutes, just to have this. Just to feel him in my arms again.
We have two days together.
It's not enough. It'll never be enough.
I want every day, every night, every moment.
But it's what we have right now, and I'm going to hold onto every second of it.
Chapter 42: Jay
I wake up to lips on my neck. Soft and warm, trailing kisses from just below my ear down to my shoulder. A hand sliding across my stomach, fingers tracing the lines of muscle there, following the ridges. Ivan's body pressed firmly against my back, solid and warm and already awake. And something very hard pressing insistently against my ass, hot even through the thin cotton of our boxers.
"Morning," he murmurs against my skin.
"Mmm." I stretch languidly, pressing back deliberately into him, grinding my ass against his hardness. "What time is it?"
"Don't care. Don't even care a little bit." He bites gently at my shoulder and I shiver, goosebumps rising. "We slept for nine hours straight. I'm done sleeping."
"What do you want to do instead?" I ask, even though I already know. I can feel exactly what he wants—his thick, rock-hard cock grinding against my thigh like a fucking promise.
His hand slides lower, past my navel, fingers slipping teasingly under the waistband of my boxers, brushing the head of my leaking dick. "I have some ideas. Several filthy ideas. All of them involve you naked, spread out, and begging for my cock."
I roll over to face him, wanting to see his face. He looks different this morning. The exhaustion from last night is completely gone, replaced by something hungry and feral. His pale blue eyes are darker, pupils blown wide with raw lust, focused on me like I'm the only fuckable thing in the entire world that matters.
"Tell me your ideas."
"I'd rather show you. Actions speak louder than words."
He kisses me before I can respond. Not soft, not gentle. This kiss is deep and demanding and claiming, his tongue thrusting into my mouth like he's fucking it, tasting every inch, devouring me. His hand grips the back of my neck, holding me in place like I'm his to own, and I grab his hip, pull him closer, grind against him. I can feel how hard heis through the thin cotton between us—hot, thick, and throbbing, his girth pressing insistently against my own aching erection.
"Take these off," he gasps against my mouth, his breath coming faster, ragged. "I need to feel your hard cock against mine, skin on skin—need to rub my dick all over you."
We separate just long enough to strip frantically. Boxers yanked down, kicked off, thrown somewhere across the room where they land in a heap. And then we're pressed together again, skin to slick skin, nothing between us anymore. His cock is hot and heavy against my thigh, that thick shaft pulsing with need, the swollen head smearing pre-cum on my skin, while mine is aching, already leaking like a faucet, desperate for friction and his rough touch.
"I've been thinking about this all week," Ivan says, as he rolls me onto my back. He settles between my legs, using his thighs to shove mine wider apart, and his solid weight presses me down into the mattress. "Every single night after we hung up, after we said goodnight, I thought about what I wanted to do to you. Planned it out—how I'd make you cum so hard you forget your name."
"What did you think about? Tell me." I'm already breathing harder, my hands running up his back, feeling the hard muscles ripple under my palms.
"This." He rolls his hips slowly, deliberately dragging his fat cock against mine, the velvet-hard lengths sliding together, pre-cum mixing to make it slick and filthy. The friction sends sparks shooting up my spine, my dick throbbing against his thicker one, every vein and ridge grinding just right. "Feeling you under me. Hearing the sounds you make when I touch you. Those moans when I tease your cock."
"What else? Tell me more—fuck, that feels so good."
"Tasting you." He kisses down my jaw, my neck, my collarbone, taking his time, nipping and sucking hard enough to leave bruises. "Every single inch of you. Learning you. Memorizing you with my tongue."
His mouth moves lower. He kisses across my chest, stopping to close his lips around one nipple, sucking hard enough to make me gasp, the sharp pull sending jolts straight to my balls, my cock twitching and leaking more. Then the other, giving it the same roughattention—tongue swirling, teeth grazing until it's raw and sensitive. I arch into him, my hands fisting in the thin sheets, bunching the fabric like I'm clinging for life. He takes his time, licking and biting, his teeth scraping over the pebbled buds, leaving marks I'll feel throbbing for days.
"Ivan. Please. I need—"
"Tell me. Use your words."
