“It’s okay to want things,” Oliver whispers. “Our hearts want what they want. We don’t get to choose.”
“I can’t go back out there,” I whisper, my voice hollow and scraped out. “Especially not because of what we need from him. I can’t use him like that. I just can’t.”
Oliver shrugs, like my panic wasn’t all that big of a deal. “They’ll survive out on the floor without us. Besides, Nicholas used to join us sometimes,” Oliver says, kissing my shoulder. “After my shifts, when I needed a knot Lorenzo couldn’t give me. He was gentle. He was good.” He pauses. “We even talked about making it more routine but we never got there.”
My chest constricts. “Oliver—”
He starts, “If you want him—”
“Please stop talking about him,” I choke out, my voice breaking on the word. “Please.”
“I got you,” Oliver murmurs, tightening his grip on my hand.
My breathing evens out, fully, the chaos in my head finally settling as I slip down to lie flat. Oliver moves with me, draping himself over my side, his scent sweetening enough to make me hard. My free hand finds his face. He goes still as my thumb traces the edge of his jaw, glitter rough under my fingertip. In the dim light, his blue eyes go dark and wide, watching me.
“You’re pretty incredible,” he whispers. “You know that? The way you hold everything together, the way you keep showing up. You’re amazing, Wilson.”
“Shut up,” I murmur, then pull his mouth to mine.
The kiss starts slow. Oliver’s lips part under mine as his hands cup my face. I press him down onto the blankets and his body immediately yields. His back settles against the blankets, his thighs parting around my hips as I move between them. His legs wrap around my waist and the heat of him through the thin fabric makes my cock throb.
“You’re so pretty,” Oliver breathes against my mouth. His hands slide down my chest, across my stomach, fingers slipping under the hem of my shirt. His warm palms trace the lines ofmy abdomen and I shiver against him. “Lorenzo says we have to wait but I want you to be mine. I have since we saw you. I’m an Omega, though. I can’t claim you but I want you, Wilson. I want—”
“I said shut up.” My words are soft, barely a murmur against his lips. I roll my hips forward. Oliver’s head tips back against the pillow and a moan slips from his throat, sweetening the air between us.
I trail my lips along the ridge of his jaw, down the column of his throat, tasting sparks of salt and the hidden sweetness of his skin. Oliver’s fingers knot in my hair, tugging and guiding me, his body arching against mine with every press of my mouth. His scent deepens, growing richer, making my head spin.
“Wilson.” Hearing my name on his lips is like a prayer. His hands fumble at our clothes, peeling them away until skin meets skin. The first slide of flesh against flesh drags a low groan from me that vibrates between us. He wraps his hand around us both, strokes once, and I bow my forehead against his collarbone.
“Tell me what you need,” he whispers.
“Only you,” I gasp. “Right now, just you.”
His briefs slip down his thighs. My fingers find him slick and warm as he parts for me and I press in slowly. Every inch I take is a conscious choice, to be here, in this moment, with him, rather than lost in some hallway or swallowed by a memory.
Oliver’s back arches off the sheets. His mouth finds my ear, breath hot against my skin. “You feel so good. Fuck, Wilson, you feel—”
I pull back, then thrust forward again. His nails bite into my shoulders through my shirt. His legs tighten around my waist, drawing me deeper, and his low moan fills the cramped space. I feel every tremor of him, the quivering of his thighs, the hammer of his heart against me through those thin layers.
“You’re mine,” he murmurs against my neck, voice rough at the edges. “Whatever happens out there, whatever you’re holding, you’re mine. Do you hear me?”
My rhythm stutters as something inside unravels stitch by stitch at the weight of his words. I bury my face in the hollow of his neck, breathing in his sweetness, his warmth, the salt of sweat pooling at his collarbone.
“Say it back.” His hand grips the back of my head, fingers threading through my curls. His hips lift to meet mine, matching every pulse of my body with a hunger that isn’t about speed but about keeping me here, refusing to let me slip away. “Wilson, say it.”
“I’m yours,” I whisper, voice ragged, pressed against his chest. “I’m yours.”
I feel Oliver’s whole body tighten against mine, his moan breaking into a gasp, his cock pulsing between our stomachs, untouched, its warmth spreading across my skin. Each clench drags my orgasm forward, and I press deep inside him as it hits, my hips stuttering, teeth sinking into his skin to stifle the sound tearing up my throat.
He follows seconds later, spilling between us as the sound escapes anyway. It starts as a groan and becomes something else, a shudder that begins in my chest, climbs my throat, and cracks open behind my eyes. My face buries into Oliver’s shoulder, tears spilling down my cheeks. My body shakes against his while he holds me, arms locked around my back, lips pressed into my hair.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, voice steady against my temple. “I’ve got you.”
My fists clench the blankets beside his head, Oliver’s fingers gently carding through my curls, while his heartbeat drums a steady rhythm against my cheek.
“I’ve got you.We’vegot you,” he whispers again, quieter this time, his mouth brushing my hair. “Right here. Not going anywhere.”
My breathing hitches and breaks and hitches again. Oliver’s legs stay wrapped around me, his body still holding mine, the warmth of our mingled skin an anchor against the sobs rocking me. His hand moves up and down my spine in slow strokes, drawing tension from every muscle until I’m boneless and hollowed out, lighter than I’ve been in months.
