“What do you want, baby? I’ll give you anything,” I promise.
“Tell me again. I want you to touch me while you tell me how desperately you’ve wanted me.” As he says it, he strips his jeans and briefs off, pushing them to the side.
Standing in front of me—completely nude—demanding that I tell him how much I want him… it’s a dream come true.
I’m on my feet, wrapping an arm around his waist and spinning him around to lay him on the bed. Then I’m on top of him, my tongue tracing patterns over his collarbones and his throat.
“I’ve spent every single night for as long as I can remember wanting you. Daydreaming about what it would feel like to touch you—to taste you. And in my dreams, you tastedjustlike this. You felt so good, so perfect for me,” I admit, finally able to share this truth with him.
Elijah groans, his hips raising to meet mine out of instinct and pure desire. His hooded eyes watch my every move, lips parted as he pants and sighs.
“I touch myself to the thought of you so frequently. I’d rather die than lose you.”
“So good, Row. You’re such a good boy,” he praises.
“Say it again,” I demand, licking the shell of his ear.
He purrs, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “You’re a good boy, baby. So good for me that I could cry.”
“Cry?” I lean back to look at him. “I love it when you cry.”
“Fuck.”
I feel fucking delirious. Between his skin beneath my fingers and his words in my ear, I very well could be dreaming.
But the friction of my hard length rubbing against his hip is telling me I’m definitely awake, and I rub along him shamelessly.
“My sweet little angel, so smooth, so soft,” I murmur.
“Am I? Am I so beautiful?” he asks. Elijah is so desperate for my attention that it makes me nauseous with want.
“The most beautiful man in the whole world, I promise you. No one else can make me feel this way. I’m losing my mind. I’m so fucking in love with you I feel sick." My words come out rushed and needy in their desire to please him.
“Oh, god, I need you to fuck me. I need you to fuck me so hard that I can’t think about this ache in my chest anymore. That I can’t remember what you looked like as you were dying.”
Oh.
Elijah is still stuck in the throes of the vision he had. He’s still sitting on the memory of Aaron jumping off the bridge after him, and straight into death.
I can help him—I can fix it. I will take away the pain and the hardship of carrying such a burden.
And as I say, “Of course," it's my promise to do so.
I flip Elijah onto his stomach, pulling him onto his knees by his hips. His smooth, soft bottom presents itself to me as a gift, an offering. I leave him there as I grab the lube from his dresser.
With his chest shoved into the mattress, his face turned to the right, Elijah waits patiently. I squeeze lube onto my fingers and rub them together, warming the liquid quickly.
“Rowan,” he whines gently, shaking his hips lightly.
“If you keep doing that, I won’t be able to concentrate on prepping you properly,” I warn, but Elijah just giggles softly.
His laughter falls silent as I spread him open with one hand, dragging a wet finger over his pink entrance. He twitches, clenching around nothing.
God, I want to eat him.
I lean into his space, licking over his hole in one solid strip. He cries out, jerking in my hold. Then I’m sinking my finger into him, and the hot warmth of his body welcomes and praises me all at once.
This right here is where I belong—this is what I’ve been desperately trying to get back to my entire life. I almost can’t believe I’m actually here.
