“You don’t have to apologize,” I say, my voice cracking a little from being quiet for so long. “Just don’t shut me out, okay? This is supposed to be the happily ever after part.” I push an unruly curl back from his forehead, because my fingers are itching to touch him. “I know neither of us has a good template to work from as far as happy endings are concerned, but I’m pretty sure however they work, we’re supposed to do it together.”
Cade is quiet, and my words seem to sink into both of us like weights through murky lake water. Slowly, but inevitable all the same.
“I’m sorry, “ he says again. His voice is thicker now, but his eyes are dry, and there’s a tension to his whole body that I’m aching to soothe. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Cupping his jaw, I hold his face more forcefully than I need to as I look him in the eye.
“Nothing’s wrong with you. You deserve this. You deserve to be happy. We both deserve to be happy. Even if it doesn’t always feel right, because you’re so used to being stressed or miserable that anything else is uncomfortable.”
Cade huffs something close to a laugh, but doesn’t pull away from me.
“Is that what they teach you in therapy?”
I can’t help but smile. “Yeah, dude. That’s it. And then we repeat it over and over and over again until it starts to make sense.”
He laughs at that, even though it’s a wet sound, and I find myself laughing quietly, too.
“We deserve this. I know I still have shitty days sometimes, but it doesn’t mean I’m not here for you. We can take care of each other.”
“Yeah, where the music plays us off and we kiss in front of the sunset or some shit. A soft epilogue, right? That’s what you’re picturing?”
I laugh again and kiss him hard, eventually nodding against his mouth. “All we have to do is pretend, and eventually it won’t feel like pretending any more.”
“I can do that,” he mumbles before kissing me again.
I know it’s not everything that needs to be said. I know it’s not enough. But it’s enough for now, and I need to have my hands on him without all these layers between us before I explode.
Our kiss quickly turns from something intimate to something messy and intense. Cade grinds against me, pawing at my t-shirt, and I fumble my way to the hem of his hoody without breaking away from his lips. We roll until Cade’s more under me than next to me, and when I tug at that fabric he arches his back with a whine, giving me space to drag up the sweater and whatever shirt he’s wearing underneath in one fluid movement. As soon as it’s off, I attack his mouth again, and the sensation of him rolling his hips into mine, already half-hard, has me growling into his mouth with a desperate kind of urgency.
I want him.
I need him.
Sometimes I think this desire will consume us both.
My fingers leave ragged, red trails in the skin of his torso as I touch him everywhere I can, stopping only to pinch his nipplesroughly, the way he likes, until I pull a ragged noise of pleasure from him. Cade’s hands are on me just as frantically, under my t-shirt, the material of the splint scratching against me overheated flesh.
“Please,” he whines between kisses, and I quickly reach behind my head to yank off my shirt.
For once, the insecurities about my body that have been eating away at me more and more lately stay silent. Having Cade touch me with nothing between us feels more important right now, and my normal chorus of doubts are quiet.
Cade pushes his splinted hand into the waistband of my basketball shorts, but when he can’t comfortably get a grip on my hard cock, he whines in frustration.
This might be my favorite version of him. I mean hell, they’re all my favorite. But this Cade is special. He’s always in control, hour by hour, minute by minute, even if he doesn’t seem like it. But here is where he truly unravels, just for me. He turns into something soft, pliant and desperate, unable to take care of his own needs and desperate for me to do it all for him.
I’ll never get sick of how much he lets himself need me when he’s like this.
“Don’t worry, baby,” I whisper to him. “I’ve got us. You just relax.”
I pull away from him for a second, which earns me another whine, but it’s easier to pull off the rest of my clothes followed by Cade’s. He lies on his back on the couch, letting me manhandle him, his chest and cheeks flushed from arousal and his mouth open in a quiet pant. His cock is hard and dark, glistening with moisture, and I need him now.
There’s no lube down here, and I can’t wait that long. I need to be close to him more than I need to be inside him.
“I’ve got you, baby,” I say again as I lay my body on top of his and press our lengths together. I hold my weight on one bentarm, using the other to reach down and fist both of us. One stroke is enough to have Cade groaning, but when I pull back my hand to spit in it before I continue, I see his pupils dilate at the sight.
“I’ve got you.” It’s becoming my mantra as I begin to jerk us both together. Cade starts making breathy, bitten-off noises, jerking his hips in time with my movements. His legs spread underneath me, bracketing my hips with his strong thighs as if I’m fucking him, continuing to arch his back up into me.
I pause for a second, grabbing the fingers of his good hand and sucking them into my mouth without hesitation. Cade’s breath stutters, and I love that I can still affect him so much even now. I work my tongue up and down his fingers until they’re dripping with saliva, and then release them with a faint pop.
