“Silas—” I gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.
“Te amo,” he breathes against my mouth, pushing deeper. “Te amo tanto… nunca dejé de amarte, mi vida…”
I love you. I love you so much. I never stopped loving you, my love.
I suck in a breath, tears pricking behind my eyes.
He bottoms out with a low, shuddering groan, hips flush to mine, and we both freeze—trembling, breathing the same ragged air. He’s so deep I can feel him everywhere, filling me completely, like he’s trying to crawl inside my skin andstay there.
“I love you,” he says again in English, voice cracking, raw. “I never stopped.”
I cup his face, thumb brushing the damp corner of his eye. “I know. And I love you too.”
He kisses me then—slow, deep, devastating—then starts to move. Deep, measured rolls of his hips that drag against every sensitive spot inside me. I gasp every time he hits it, thighs trembling around his waist.
“Así, bebé,” he murmurs between kisses, voice thick with want. “Tómalo todo… eres tan bueno para mí… mi niño perfecto…”
Like that, baby. Take it all…you are so good to me…my perfect boy.
The praise in two languages undoes me. Every slow thrust is accompanied by soft, broken Spanish—hermoso, precioso, mío—mixed with English whispers of how good I feel, how beautiful I look, how much he’s missed this, missedme. His hand wraps around my cock, stroking in perfect time with his hips, thumb circling the head on every upstroke.
“Look at you,” he rasps, switching back to English like he needs me to hear it clearly. “Taking Daddy so deep… so fucking perfect… you were made for this, weren’t you? Made for me.”
I can only whimper in response, head thrown back, hips rocking up to meet him. The rhythm builds—still slow, still deliberate, but deeper now, harder. He angles just right and I cry out, clenching around him.
“Sí, sí—ahí, mi amor,” he groans, hips snapping a little harder. “Right there… feel that? Feel how much I need you?”
I’m babbling—his name,Daddy, broken pleas—lost in the heat, the stretch, the way he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing that’s ever mattered.
“Come for me,hermoso,” he pleads, voice fracturing. “Quiero sentirte… quiero que te corras en mi polla… por favor, bebé…”
I want to feel you... I want you to cum on my cock... Please, baby...
The combination—the Spanish, the praise, the desperate edge in his voice—snaps the last thread. I come quietly, shuddering hard, clenching around him as I spill between us, his name a broken sob on my lips. He fucks me through it—slow, deep—drawing it out until I’m trembling, oversensitive, boneless.
He follows right after—burying himself to the hilt, hips stuttering, groaning low and wrecked into my neck as he pulses inside me. “Te amo… te amo… mío…”
Mine,yeah that’s probably accurate.
We stay tangled like that for long minutes—sweaty, breathless, hearts still racing in uneven sync. Silas doesn’t pull out right away. He just holds me, one arm banded around my waist, the other hand stroking slow, soothing circles over my back. His lips brush my temple again and again, soft, mindless little kisses like he can’t stop.
“I’m never letting you go again,” he whispers, voice hoarse and thick with emotion.
I smile against his skin, fingers tracing lazy, possessive patterns across his back. “Good. Because I’m staying.”
Eventually he shifts, easing out with a careful gentleness that makes me shiver at the loss. I whimper—quiet, involuntary—and he shushes me instantly, voice low and tender.
“I’ve got you, baby. Just stay right there.”
He disappears for a moment. I hear water running in the bathroom, the soft clink of the faucet, then he’s back with a warm, damp washcloth. He kneels between my legs again—this time careful, reverent—and cleans me up with slow, gentle strokes. The cloth is perfectly warm, not too hot, and he takes his time: wiping between my thighs, along my stomach where I spilled, even the sensitive skin of my inner thighs where I’m still trembling.
Every pass is deliberate, almost worshipful. He murmurs little things the whole time—half English, half Spanish, soft enough I have to strain to catch them.
“Estás bien, mi amor… tan hermoso todavía… look at you, still flushed for me…”
You're okay, my love… still so beautiful…
When he’s done, he sets the cloth aside, leans down, and presses the softest kiss to the inside of my thigh. Then another to my hip. Another to my stomach. Like he’s sealing every inch he just cleaned.
