We moved together. His hands on my hips, guiding me backward. My calves hit the mattress and I sat. He stood between my legs, looking down at me, and the angle—him aboveme, the light from my desk lamp casting shadows across his chest—made my throat go tight.
"What?" he asked. Must have seen something in my face.
"Nothing. Just—" I stopped. "You're here."
Something shifted in his expression. The hard edges softening into something that looked almost—
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I'm here."
He leaned down and kissed me. Pushed me back onto the mattress with his weight. His body settled over mine—chest to chest, hip to hip—and the pressure of him was grounding.
I wrapped my arms around him. Pulled him closer. I wanted to eliminate every inch of space between us until there was nothing left—just skin and heat and the sound of our breathing going ragged together.
His mouth moved to my neck. Found the spot below my ear that made my hips jerk, the spot he'd discovered a few weeks ago and clearly hadn't forgotten. He scraped his teeth there and I gasped.
"Fuck," I breathed.
"Good?" His mouth against my skin. The vibration of his voice traveling through my neck, down my chest, pooling low in my stomach.
"So good."
He kept going. Kissing down my throat. My collarbone. The center of my chest. Each press of his lips slow and deliberate—not teasing, not building toward something. More like mapping. Like he was learning me in a way.
My hands found the button of his jeans. I undid it. Slid the zipper down carefully—he was already hard, straining against the fabric, and the sound he made when my knuckles brushed him through his boxers went straight through me.
"Everything off," I said.
We separated long enough to strip the rest. Jeans kicked to the floor. Boxers following. Both of us bare.
Liam stood at the edge of my bed. Naked. Hard. The lamplight catching the definition in his thighs, his abs, the trail of dark hair below his navel.
I couldn't look away.
He was—God, he was beautiful. I'd thought it before but never let the word fully form. Never let myself hold it without flinching. Beautiful was dangerous. Beautiful meant this mattered. Beautiful meant I was in deeper than I could afford.
But I was already in deeper than I could afford. Had been since Brackett Lake. Since the first time his body had moved in sync with mine and I'd felt what it was like to be truly known.
He climbed back onto the bed. Over me. His weight pressing me into the mattress. The feeling of his cock against mine made us both groan.
I reached between us. Wrapped my hand around both of us. The heat was overwhelming—his hardness pressed against mine in my grip, both of us slick with want.
Liam's forehead dropped against mine. His breath hot on my lips.
"Alex—" My name sounded like it was being pulled out of him. Like saying it cost something.
"I know," I whispered. "I know."
I stroked us together. Slow. Tight. The friction building with every movement, and Liam's hips started rocking into my hand—not thrusting, not desperate, just moving with me. Finding the rhythm the way he always did.
The way we always did.
His hand covered mine. Added pressure. We stroked together—his hand over mine, our fingers laced around our cocks, and the intimacy of it was so sharp I couldn't breathe. We weredoing this together. Not him doing something to me or me doing something to him.
Together.
"Look at me," I said.
His eyes opened. Dark green. Pupils blown so wide I could barely see the color. His mouth was open, lips wet, a flush spreading down his neck and across his chest.
