A faint smile tugs at his mouth, still soft from our last kiss, and my pulse stumbles.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” I breathe.
Before he can argue, I lean in and silence him with another kiss. It’s quick and certain. I pull back just enough to move and get the lube, the world narrowing to him and the steady drum of my heartbeat.
Back between his legs, I keep my focus on his face, on the way he’s watching me. My hand trails down, tracing slow patterns along his thigh, mapping him like I’m committing him to memory.
“You okay like this?” I ask quietly.
He nods, and that small, trusting gesture almost makes me lose control.
I’ve pictured this moment a hundred different ways, but none of them compare to now. The way he looks at me, unguarded, the quiet gravity that draws us together—it’s everything. I don’t want to chase or rush. I just want toseehim. To let him know that whatever happens after tonight, he’s not alone in this. Not anymore.
Because no matter what the world says, that’s what he is—mine in all the ways that count.
“I’m good,” he says, and blows my mind further by lifting his legs and holding his thighs. He’s wide open, hole on display, almost every inch of skin flushed.
“Holy fuck, Ollie.”
His skin glows in the low light, every breath painting color across him. There’s nothing shy about the way he looks at me; it’s raw, open, certain. All want and no hesitation. And that’s what undoes me.
When Ollie gives himself over to something, he doesn’t halfway anything. He dives in like he’s made for the fall, and I’ve never wanted to catch someone so badly in my life.
I drag in a breath, trying to steady the rush. He’s waiting, gaze fixed on me, every line of him a challenge and a plea all at once.
“Rafe,” he says, voice rough with need, “you’re driving me crazy.”
My eyes lift to his. “Tell me what you need.”
His throat works before he answers, quiet but certain. “You. Just you.”
His words nearly break my composure. I move closer, slow enough to feel the weight of every heartbeat, the tension between us strung so tight it hums.
I want to give him everything he’s asking for. And more, so much fucking more.
“Then breathe,” I whisper. “I’ve got you.”
With the city burning beyond the glass and the night holding its breath, he does.
It’s a long, shaky exhale as I coat three of my fingers before circling his hole with one. He shudders and moans and spreads himself further.
“You’re so fucking sexy, baby,” I praise, breaching him with one of my fingers. He sighs at the intrusion, the sound breathy and full of relief. This isn’t the first time I’ve explored his body, but I want him to be loose and desperate by the time I finally slide into him.
I press in two fingers, then finally three. “Your body was made for me,” I whisper. I bounce my attention between his eyes, the need I see there, and how fucking perfectly his ass is taking my fingers.
“It was. I am. But fuck, Rafe, I’m ready.” He draws his bottom lip into his mouth as he drives himself harder onto my fingers. He’s so tight and hot. I can’t wait to get inside him.
“Yeah?” I keep studying him, even as I curl my fingers and drag them deliberately against his prostate.
A wrecked moan tumbles out of him.
“Fuck, I need you.” I can’t hold back anymore. My dick needs to be planted inside his tight channel. Stat.
I ease away and slather lube directly on his loose hole, then my aching dick. A few quick strokes later and my breaths turn choppy, as do Ollie’s.
“Rafe… please.”
It’s his tone that unravels me. It hits like a spark to dry tinder—sudden and unstoppable. His body loosens beneath me, a long exhale leaving him boneless and trusting.
