“No. No relationships. My father wanted to order me a mail-order bride.”
“He didn’t?”
Adrik laughed. “He said I was too fussy.”
“I bet you are.” He stood. “Sorry. Need to lock the front door.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Adrik
Hans pushed himself upfrom the couch, its springs groaning in protest, and Adrik rose and followed him to the front entry. Adrik pinned Hans facing the wall near the door.
Adrik fumbled with Hans’ zipper, his fingers clumsy from nerves and anticipation. His heart was already racing, that familiar mix of want and impatience buzzing under his skin. He removed his belt first, then he slipped his hand inside the waistband and eased Hans’ slacks down to his ankles, unable to stop himself from smiling at how easy Hans made it for him.
Hans stepped out of them, casual and confident.
“No underwear?” Adrik asked, eyebrows lifting.
“Nope.”
That did it. The words hit Adrik right in the chest, warm and validating. Being wanted always threw him off.
“And I’m ready for you,” Adrik said, reaching for the lube in his pocket. He squirted some into his hands, spread it carefully, and then worked it around Hans.
“Yeah. I’m prepared for you,” Hans said.
That single sentence landed hard. It wasn’t loud or dramatic—just steady, confident—but it hit Adrik square in the chest. Warm. Affirming.Prepared for him.The words settled there and stayed. He grinned.
Hans let out a soft sound afterward, barely there, the kind that slipped out when someone was trying not to give too much away. His voice wavered just enough for Adrik to catch it. The air between them felt charged, thick with the faint scent of soap and skin and something warmer underneath. Adrik took that slight tremor as a green light.
He unzipped his own slacks and freed himself, the fabric rasping in the silent room. A wave of relief settled in, yet he was also brimming with excited anticipation. He’d been wound tight for longer than he wanted to admit. He retrieved the condom from his pocket. The latex snapped softly as he tore the condom open, his fingers not as steady as he’d hoped. He slid it on, breathing a little faster now, then reached for the lube from his pocket again. It was cool against his palms at first, slick and faintly medicinal, before it warmed as he rubbed it between his hands and shared it between them.
He wanted the process to be smooth. Easy. Right.
But he didn’t slow down—not really. His pulse was in his ears; his focus narrowed to the heat of the moment, the closeness, the beauty of it all. He was already chasing the feeling instead of listening to it, too caught up in the rush to notice how fast he was moving.
Hans let out a soft sound, his voice trembling, and Adrik took that as a good sign.
He pushed inside.
Whoa, it was so tight and overwhelming, he almost got dizzy. Adrik moved fast, then slowed, chasing the sensation, lost in how good it felt to be connected like this.
“Adrik!”
“What?”
“You’re fucking me. Stop. You’re hurting me.”
The words snapped him back to reality. Hans turned his head to face him, eyes sharp, breath uneven.
Adrik pulled out immediately, guilt crashing down hard. “Sorry. What can I do to make it work?”
“Stop altogether. Let’s talk.”
Wow, that sentence was way more impactful than it seemed. Adrik didn’t argue or ask why—he just stepped back, like his body already knew he’d crossed some invisible line. His hands moved on autopilot. He pulled the condom off and shoved it into his pocket, because his brain had narrowed down to a single, brutal thought: He’d fucked this up.
He dragged his slacks up and zipped them, movements rough and a little too fast, like he was trying to seal the moment away before it could look at him any longer. His chest felt tight, shallow breaths scraping in and out. Only after everything was back in place did he notice his shirt hanging out, wrinkled and uneven.
