“Maybe later.” Griffin leaned against the counter and gripped his water bottle like an anchor. “Right now, I just… I don’t know. Need to not think about tomorrow for a while.”
“Okay.” I closed the distance between us. “We can do that. What do you want to do?”
Griffin’s gaze met mine, and I saw the vulnerabilityunderneath the anxiety—the admission that he’d needed me here, that being alone had been unbearable. “Want to finishThe Name of the Wind? We never got past the first act.”
“Sure.” The suggestion felt safe, normal, the kind of thing that didn’t require difficult conversations or emotional processing. “Where’d we leave off before we were interrupted?”
“Kvothe just entered the University, I think.” Griffin moved to the couch, grabbed the remote, and settled into the corner with space beside him. “I honestly don’t remember. We got pretty distracted.”
I sat beside him—not quite touching, but close enough to feel his warmth as Griffin pulled up the movie and found where we’d left off. The notes of the score filled the apartment, and I tried to focus on the screen.
Kvothe’s journey through the University unfolded in beautiful cinematography and haunting music. The actor playing him captured the character’s brilliance and arrogance and vulnerability perfectly, and the magic system looked even better than I’d imagined while reading the books.
But I was hyperaware of Griffin beside me. The way he shifted slightly closer after a few minutes. The way his arm stretched along the back of the couch, not quite touching my shoulders but present. The way our thighs were inches apart, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body without direct contact.
My hand rested on my thigh. The space of a few inches felt like a chasm and an invitation all at once.
On screen, Kvothe met Ambrose for the first time—the antagonist who would plague him throughout his university years. Their confrontation crackled with tension, but I was only half watching.
I shifted and closed the gap between us by another inch. Griffin’s response was immediate—his arm dropped from theback of the couch to my shoulders, and he pulled me gently against his side.
I let myself lean into him, my head finding the space between his shoulder and neck that seemed designed for exactly this. Griffin’s other hand found mine, lacing our fingers together with casual certainty that suggested this was normal, natural, something we’d done a thousand times.
The movie continued. Kvothe’s rivalry with Ambrose escalated. Master Elodin appeared with his strange wisdom and unpredictable teaching methods. Denna made her mysterious entrance, capturing Kvothe’s attention and heart.
But I wasn’t watching anymore. I was focused on the steady rhythm of Griffin’s breathing, the warmth of his body against mine, the way his thumb traced absent circles on the back of my hand. The simple domestic intimacy of sitting together on his couch, watching a movie, existing in the same space without urgency or worrying about public image.
This is what I want.Not just the physical affection or the fleeting moments we didn’t have to look over our shoulders. This. The quiet comfort of being together. The ease of his presence. The way being near him makes everything feel more manageable.
Griffin shifted, and I looked up to find him watching me instead of the screen. His blue eyes held an intensity that made my breath catch—not the hungry desire I’d seen before, but something deeper. Softer.
“Wesley,” he said quietly, my name a question and a statement all at once.
I reached up and cupped his jaw, the scruff rough against my palm.
“Thank you for coming over. For knowing I needed you.”
“Always.” The word came out with certainty, a promise I wasn’t sure I should be making. “I’ll always come when you need me.”
Griffin leaned down, and I met him halfway. The kiss wasslow, exploratory, lacking the desperate urgency of previous encounters. His mouth moved against mine with deliberate tenderness, like he was trying to communicate something words couldn’t express.
I repositioned myself to face him more fully, my hands sliding up to his shoulders, then brushing through his buzz cut. Griffin’s arms came around me, and he pulled me closer until I was straddling his lap. Our bodies pressed together in ways that made rational thought difficult.
But this wasn’t about rushing toward something. This was about savoring—the taste of him, the feel of his hands spanning my back, the small sounds he made when I kissed along his jaw, the way he pulled me impossibly closer, like he couldn’t get enough contact.
We made out slowly on his couch while the movie played, once again forgotten in the background. His hands explored territory with new reverence—sliding under my shirt to trace patterns on my skin, mapping my body like he was memorizing every detail, claiming me in ways that felt significant beyond the physical.
I did the same, letting my fingers discover the landscape of his shoulders and back and chest, feeling the solid muscle and the rapid beat of his heart, trying to show through touch what I couldn’t articulate with words.
I rocked my erection against his, eliciting a moan. We kissed languidly, thoroughly, with an attention that suggested we had all the time in the world, even though we both knew that wasn’t true.
Griffin’s mouth moved from my lips to my jaw to the sensitive spot behind my ear that made me gasp. His hands were warm and possessive against my lower back. I lifted his T-shirt over his head, exposing skin I kissed with careful attention.
With fumbling, maneuvering, and a little laughter, wemanaged to release our hard cocks from the confines of our sweats and jeans. Griffin took us both in his large, callused palm and stroked us until my vision sheeted white. I came in long ropes of cum onto his tight abs, and he soon followed with a long groan from deep within his chest. I kissed him with an intensity that betrayed my growing feelings.
After I cleaned up in the bathroom and found a washcloth to wet for Griffin, that intensity mellowed into something softer. We rearranged ourselves—Griffin stretched out along the couch with me tucked against his side, our legs tangled together, my head on his chest. His arms came around me, holding me securely, and I let myself sink into the warmth and safety of his embrace.
The movie had ended at some point, transitioning to the menu screen, where the haunting score played on repeat. The soft music provided a gentle soundtrack to our breathing, to the quiet intimacy of just being together.
