I cupped his balls gently. They were pulled tight, his ass already starting to spasm. I took as much of his length as I could, until my lips brushed his trimmed pubes and my nose pressed against his balls. Then I relaxed my throat and swallowed around him.
Bodhi moaned, long and raw and animal, and then he detonated.
His hips bucked, stealing my breath as warmth flooded the back of my throat. I pulled back just enough to taste it fully, groaning at the salt and musk as it hit my tongue. When I finally released him, my arms trembled as I held myself up.
Despite everything, despite just coming, he didn’t stop. He kept sucking me down, tongue dipping into my slit until my hips jerked. I shoved the cuff of my hoodie into my mouth, biting down hard to keep quiet.
“Fuck,” I sobbed around the fabric. “So close.”
That was all the encouragement Bodhi needed. His pace quickened, suction deepening, and when I felt his fingertip tease my hole, I shattered.
I came hard into his mouth, and he gripped my ass, holding me close as he swallowed every bit. He didn’t let up until the aftershocks turned sharp, then finally eased back.
I rolled off and collapsed beside him, my head somewhere near his hip. We lay there in the dark, breathing hard, the silence broken only by the sound of us slowly coming back to ourselves.
Then Bodhi laughed.
Soft at first, then bright and full, filling the cramped space with warmth. I laughed too, helplessly. Our fingers brushed and tangled together, hands clutching tight as our bodies cooled against the hard floor.
I knew we couldn’t stay there. We were in a maintenance cupboard in central Berlin, for fuck’s sake. He had an interview to get to. Reality would come knocking soon.
But for this one moment, none of that mattered.
Nothing but Bodhi’s hand in mine. Our laughter echoing softly above us.
“Fuck,” he said, still laughing. “I love pretending with you.”
I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt.
For a moment, we felt normal.
And it was wonderful.
ANDANTE
BODHI
EIGHT WEEKS SOBER
Someone was knocking on my door.
That alone wouldn’t have been so alarming if I hadn’t been asleep and it wasn’t—I checked the clock on my bedside table—five thirty in the fucking morning.
I’d only fallen asleep an hour earlier, my body still fighting me as I went cold turkey. Dr Williams had offered a sleeping aid during one of our early sessions, but I’d refused. The last thing I wanted was to replace one crutch with another while I was still trying to kick the first one out from under me.
The knocking stopped, and I figured whoever it was had fucked off into the night. Maybe it had been a ghost. Or maybe this was some weird new brand of sleep paralysis, where instead of a demon sitting on my chest, it knocked politely at my bedroom door.
I was just drifting back under when it started again.
I ignored it at first. Anything urgent enough to warrant aknock before sunrise could wait. They could come back at a more socially acceptable hour and ruin my morning then.
The knock came again. Louder. Sharper.
Christ. A counsellor? Some early-morning meditation session I’d forgotten about? Or worse... an emergency with the band. Or my mom.
That last thought had my heart racing as I shoved myself upright and stumbled towards the door. Shit. Had something happened to her? An accident, or?—
I yanked the door open.
