He moved on.
I sat there a moment longer, hands resting uselessly on my knees, heart still beating too fast.
I wanted to go home to Cam.
I grabbed my bag and stood before that thought could finish forming.
The door slammedopen so hard the frame shuddered, my chest heaving as if I’d sprinted the whole way here. My vision tunneled on Cam. Everything else dropped away.
I didn’t speak. I didn’t trust myself to. I crossed the room in three long strides and crashed into him, hands on his jaw, kissing him deeply. This made sense. I wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t planned. It was hunger, raw and feral, and I pressed him back until the wall stopped him because I needed something solid under my hands.
“Jari? What's wrong?”
My thigh wedged between his, my hip rolling forward before I could stop myself, my body ahead of my brain. I was shaking. I knew it. I didn’t care.
“Need you,” I begged because it was the only truth I could get out. I hauled him with me toward the stairs, iron grip, breath chopped and broken as I kissed him repeatedly. I couldn’t wait. I wouldn’t.
He tried to tug me back at first, but when we kissed, it was as if a switch was thrown and the stairs blurred. We banged into the wall. I didn’t slow. All that mattered was his mouth, his hands, the way he kissed me back as if he understood exactly how close to the edge I was.
We hit the bedroom, and I spun him and shoved. He landed on the mattress with a grunt, and I followed, caging him. I tore off my Railers hoodie and tossed it aside, skin too hot. I knew how I must have looked. I didn’t care about that either.
“Jari, slow down?—”
I cut him off with a kiss, slower this time, deeper, trying to pour everything I couldn’t say into it. My hands shook as I went for his jeans.
“Please,” I breathed, voice cracking. “Please, Cam. I need—” I didn’t finish. I didn’t have to. I was hard enough that it hurt, grinding against his thigh, desperate and exposed.
He touched my face. “Wait, sweetheart. I’ve got you. But we need to?—”
“I’m negative,” I blurted, panic and need tangling together. “PrEP. You?” I was already reaching for the drawer, grabbing the lube, and already tearing the condom wrapper, because stopping felt impossible.
“Same,” he said, carefully. “Jari, what's wrong?—”
“I need you.” I kissed him hard again, teeth nipping, hands opening his jeans, shoving them down. Cool air hit him, and my hand wrapped around him without asking. “Fuck,” I groaned. “You’re so hard for me.”
He held me as if he was going to ease me away, and I shook my head, and something in his eyes eased, and he watched as I undressed, and slicked my fingers, eyes locked on his. I needed to be open and ready. Crouched over him, one finger, then two, rougher than I meant to be.
“Don't!” he snapped. “Don't hurt yourself, sweetheart.”
“Please…”
“Shh,” he murmured as he took over, slowed things down, and then kissed me. “Take what you need.” The words were dark and honest.
“Yes,” I gasped, his hands on my hips, nails biting in. “Now.”
I hesitated for one flicker of a second—long enough to feel seen—then I sank down on him, inch by inch, breath tearing out of me as I took his cock into me. When I bottomed out, Ijust breathed, muscles clenching around him, and I whimpered before I moved.
I was desperate. Unraveling. I rode him hard, the bed creaking, skin slapping, my cock leaking between us as pleasure burned too bright to hold. Every thrust dragged a sound from me I couldn’t swallow.
“Cam—fuck—more?—”
He sat up and pulled me close, and everything broke open. I came apart on him with a broken whimper, ropes of heat painting his skin as my body shook. His release followed, filling the condom as he held me close.
I collapsed against him, boneless, breath ragged, the air thick with sex and sweat and everything we hadn’t said. His heart hammered under my ear. His hands were steady in my hair, on my back, tracing scars he never asked about.
For a long moment, I just breathed.
“What happened, sweetheart?” Cam asked softly.
