My breath hitched.
His hands slid to my zipper, fingers deft as he opened my pants. The relief of pressure around my hardening cock made me hiss, and Iggy leaned in, dragging his tongue slowly over the cotton of my boxers. The rough fabric, dampened by the warmth of his mouth, sent a sharp jolt through me, my fingers curling into the sheets beneath me.
“I don’t want you to hate me,” he murmured, his voice soft and raw as he freed my cock from its fabric prison. “Don’t want you to worry about me.”
He wrapped his warm, clammy hand around my length and stroked once, slow and deliberate, his thumb tracing lazy circles through the precum gathered at the tip. Then he let go and brought his thumb to his mouth, licking it clean with a happy hum.
And that was when I noticed it.
The way his hands shook. Not with eagerness, but with strain. The way his eyes still watered, not from pleasure, but from something sharper, deeper. I started to reach for him, instinct kicking in, but it was like he sensed it coming. Heducked his head before I could stop him and swallowed my cock in one sudden motion.
“Fuck,” I groaned, jaw tightening.
He took me deep enough to gag, but he didn’t pull away. He forced himself to breathe through his nose, waited for his throat to relax, and then let the tip slip even deeper. I stayed as still as I could, fighting the urge to thrust, terrified of choking him. But when he swallowed around my cockhead, my control faltered. A sound tore out of me, and my hips twitched until Iggy pushed them back down against the bed with both hands.
He pulled off with a wet, obscene pop and stared up at me, mouth open as he panted. His hand kept moving, stroking my length with the slick of his saliva, easing the friction. Tears streamed down his cheeks, cutting through his mascara and leaving black tracks against flushed skin. His eyes were dazed, unfocused, and yet there was something almost wild in them too.
“Iggy—”
“Love me, Bodhi,” he whispered, dipping down to kiss the head of my cock. “Don’t stop loving me.”
He sucked me down again, faster this time, moving up and down before pulling away once more.
“Want to make you believe me,” he murmured, words tumbling out between breaths. “Don’t want you to run away.”
It didn’t sound like he was talking to me anymore. It sounded like he was talking at me. Or to himself. Like he’d forgotten I could hear the truths spilling from his mouth. The words kept coming. Broken phrases. Anxious pleas. Soft, fractured prayers whispered between desperate attempts to take me deeper. His hands shook harder, his rhythm faltered, and his breathing hitched around quiet sobs.
My body still reacted, traitorous and automatic. Every touch,every pull of his mouth sent pleasure sparking through me. But my orgasm felt distant. Unreachable and wrong. I couldn’t even imagine finishing while he was like this.
I tried to tell myself he needed it. That he needed the closeness, the intimacy, something solid to hold onto. But the discomfort in my chest wouldn’t ease. The sickening sense that I was taking something from him instead of giving. He didn’t feel present. Didn’t feel fully here.
And even if he wanted this... I didn’t.
When he sucked at the tip again, I reached down and cupped his cheek, gently urging him back. Immediately, he whined, hands scrambling at my thighs like he was desperate to return to what he’d been doing. Like it was the only thing keeping him upright.
Ghost’s words echoed in my head.
“He was frantic. Like, really frantic.”
“Iggy,” I said softly.
He didn’t respond.
“Iggy.” I gripped his shoulders, firmer this time.
He stilled and looked up at me, eyes glassy, voice hoarse. “What’s wrong?” Then, quieter. “Did I do something wrong?”
My chest tightened painfully.
“No, baby,” I said, cradling his face, wiping at the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. “I just...” My voice faltered. “I don’t think we should do this.”
His whole body locked up. His gaze dropped to my chest.
“What?”
“You don’t have to do this,” I tried again. “We need to get ready?—”
He shot to his feet so fast I had to lean back to avoid being headbutted. I reached for him, but he stepped away, putting space between us like a wall.
