“Love you,” he whispers into my skin, his voice rough with emotion. “I love you so much. Have for so long. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. Sorry we didn’t have this always.”
His tongue follows the line of hair down, down, until it’s teasing the base of my cock, and I gasp, my hand finding his hair, tangling in it.
“But I want it now,” he continues, his breath a promise against me. “Want a future with you. Want everything with you.”
There’s something about this that’s not right. Not usual. Even in my dreams, Robbie never goes quite that far.
But before I can chase the thought and let it carry me to the surface, Dream-Robbie takes me into his mouth, just for a moment, and drags me back under.
I shudder, my hips lifting off the bed. But Dream-Robbie doesn’t linger. His mouth moves lower, his breath hot against the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.
He bends my leg to my chest, and I can feel the anticipation coiling tight in my gut. Then his tongue, wet and warm and deliberate, presses flat against my hole.
In this fantasy, when he puts his mouth on me, it’s not just a tease, not just a flick. He opens me with a broad, slow stroke, the tip of his tongue just barely breaching my rim, the flat pressing firm and insistent. The sensation is obscene, overwhelming: the heat, the slickness, the way his breath hitches as he tastes me.
A broken sound claws its way out of my throat, so loud it startles me, and I jerk to full consciousness to findRobbie on his stomach between my thighs, a familiar shape in the shadowy bedroom.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathe. “Robbie.”
It’s too much—too intimate, too real—but I can’t pull away. His hands grip my hips, holding me steady, and his thumbs spread me just enough to give him better access. Then he does it again, his hot tongue swirling, pressing, fucking me with slow, deliberate strokes. The tip flicks over my entrance, then pushes in just a little deeper, and the wet, lewd sounds he makes—like he’s freaking starving for this—sends a jolt straight to my cock.
“Rob—” My voice cracks. My fingers fist in the sheets.
“Shh,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my skin. “Let me. I want this. You make me so fucking happy, Ames. Always. Every single day. Just being with you. Let me makeyouhappy.”
And then he does it again—his tongue flat, then pointed, then swirling, each movement sending sparks through my nerves, my body arching into the sensation.
It’s filthy and tender at the same time, the way he’s worshipping my hole with his mouth. I’m so drunk on pleasure, I feel like I’m suspended halfway between reality and some alternate universe.
Every time I arch and stutter-stutter-stutter out a breath, he makes the happy hum that’s starred in all my best fantasies.
Then the next second, his stubble prickles the inside of my thighs, and his fingers tighten on my hips with bruising force that reminds me this is actually happening.
I reach for my cock with a trembling hand and groan. I’m leaking and desperate.
Robbie stills my hand with a grip on my wrist.
“P-please,” I groan, not entirely sure what I’m begging for. “Please, Robbie.”
“Can I have you, Ames?” He pulls back just enough that I can see his eyes. They catch the moonlight peeking through the window and glimmer at me like stars.
I smile at him. At this man, who is the deepest, most wonderful dream of my heart.
“Yeah,” I manage, my voice barely there. “Yes. Of course. I’m already yours, Rob.”
He rolls over and eagerly fumbles through the drawer for a second. I barely have time to let out a soft snicker before I hear the snick of the lube cap.
“You sure you don’t want a condom, baby?” he murmurs.
We’ve already gotten clear panels done and had the discussion, but I love that he checks in with me just in case.
“I’m sure,” I breathe, wondering what it will feel like to finally go bare with someone.
Not someone.Robbie.
I’m already loose and pliable, just floating here, and when he slides his fingers inside me, both of us sigh at how fucking good it feels.
When Robbie finally presses his cock inside, it’s not just the slow stretch and burn that steal my breath. It feels… inevitable. It feels right. Like the way the sun always rises in the morning. Like the way the tides always find their way back to the shore. It’s a homecoming. One I’ve never felt before. Not like this.
