“Gabe.” His name comes out rough, too full of everything I’m feeling.
He stays there, eyes wide, like he’s shocked even himself by straddling me. For a moment, neither of us moves, the air between us is strung so tight it could snap. My heart thuds hard against my ribs, every beat a little faster.
Then his hand lifts, hesitant but sure enough, and threads through my hair. The tug is gentle and testing, before his fingers spread, cradling the back of my head. He tilts my head up, angling my face toward his.
I can feel his breath now, hot against my lips. It ghosts over my mouth, as shallow and unsteady as mine, and my body strains with the effort it takes not to close the distance myself. His thumb brushes just under my jaw.
The space shrinks to nothing. One breath. Another. And then—finally—he leans in and kisses me. It isn’t cautious, like I expected. It’s electric, sparking through me, the kind of kiss that unravels a groan from deep in my chest. He fists my hair gently,dragging me closer still, pressing his mouth hard against mine. It’s messy and desperate.
I let him set the pace for a minute, let him take from me, because I know how much this moment means. But as his tongue flicks against mine, I lose whatever patience I thought I had. My hands find his waist, thumbs slipping under the hem of his sweater, and I pull him tighter into me. “This okay?”
He gasps, “Yes,” against my mouth, and fuck, it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard.
“Been wanting you to do this all week,” I rasp against his lips.
All week, twelve years, same thing.
His blush is immediate, color blooming on his face. “Me too.” It’s barely a whisper, but it shoots straight through me. Has he been thinking about this as much as I have? The thought makes me moan.
I kiss him again, slower this time, dragging my tongue against his until he shudders. His hips rock, and I feel his hard cock, pressing against me through too many layers.
I grip his hips tighter, making sure he can feel me without being too rough. “Do that again.”
He makes a shaky sound, somewhere between a moan and a laugh, but he obeys, grinding against me more firmly this time. His breath fans against my cheek.
“Fuck, Gabe,” I mutter, letting my head fall back against the couch as he moves over me. “You’re killing me.”
And he doesn’t stop. He kisses me like he’s starving, and every brush of his mouth tastes like a risk he’s finally decided to take. I want to consume every part of him, like he’s consuming me. But I make myself slow down. I drag the kiss out until he’s panting against my lips. My hand runs up his spine, under his sweater, palm spread wide against his warm skin. He trembles so hard, I feel it all the way through me.
“God, you’re so responsive,” I murmur, kissing down his jaw, moving to his neck.
He swallows audibly, fingers curling in my hair, holding me there. “Y-you make me—” His words break off with a gasp when I suck at the soft skin beneath his ear.
“Make you what?” I press. “Tell me.”
He lets out a helpless sound, hips twitching forward against me again. The friction makes us both gasp. “Make me feel…” His voice trails off, breathless, and he just whimpers instead.
He bites his lip, trying to keep all those beautiful sounds from me. But Ineedthem.
“Hey,” I breathe soothingly, kissing along his throat. “You don’t have to give me words. Just let me hear you, I want all your sounds.”
He shudders but nods, giving me more of his throat. His confidence is there, I can feel it, but it’s tangled with nerves.
When I cup his ass and pull him flush, it’s too much for him. Panic flashes across his face, and he locks up. The change is instant. I loosen my grip immediately, sliding my hands back to his hips, kissing him soft and slow, lacing an apology into every stroke of my tongue until he melts against me. “Sorry,” I murmur against his mouth. “Wanna stop?”
He studies my face, flicking between my eyes and mouth, before he shakes his head. When he exhales a soft “no” and fully relaxes, it feels like a fucking victory I’d bleed for.
“Okay,” I whisper, stroking my thumbs over the soft skin of his hips. “Whatever you want.”
He hums, moving back in to kiss me, and the sound that escapes me is rough and broken. I can’t hold it back any more than I can stop the way my hands move on his hips, guiding him down, urging him to move against me again. The friction is so good it makes my breath ragged, my pulse hammering in my throat.
“Fuck, there you go,” I rasp, grinding up into him. “Feel that, Gabe? How hard I am? That’s all for you.”
A deep whine comes from his throat, and he kisses me harder; it’s sloppy now, almost frantic. He moves against me, dragging his cock along mine through thin layers.
The look on his face—shy, overwhelmed, wanting—floods my body with heat. I kiss him back like he’s the air I need. When my hand slides under his sweater again, his sounds get louder, and it’s intoxicating. I graze my thumb over his nipple, and his hips jolt forward.
“You like that?” I murmur.
