“Okay.” His voice shook, his accent thicker than I’d ever heard it. “Okay, Marco, I’m ready. I think I’m ready.”
“You sure?” I stilled my hand, needing him to be certain.
“Yes.” His eyes found mine, dark and dilated and utterly trusting. “Please. I want—I want you to make love to me.”
The vulnerability in those words, the courage it took to ask for this, nearly broke me.
I rolled on a condom, then lay back. “Come here.”
He straddled me, and I guided his hips with my hands, helping him settle into position. “Comfortable?” I asked.
“Yeah.” His hands braced on my chest for balance.
“Slow,” I said. “Take your time. There’s no rush.”
He nodded, his face intense with concentration. I guided my erection to his entrance. He sank down and paused at the initial resistance, sucking in a breath.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just need to…” He took a deep breath and sank lower. I felt a slow give and could barely hold back from thrusting into his tight heat.
He pressed down until I was balls deep. Étienne’s eyes went wide, his breath catching. “Oh. Oh, that’s?—”
My hands came up to his hips, steadying him. “Just breathe. You’re okay.”
He moved slowly, carefully, and wonder crossed his features. The intimacy of it was overwhelming—not just the physical connection, but the emotional vulnerability. Him trusting me, me trusting him, both of us completely exposed.
“Je t’aime tellement.” He panted, finding a rhythm. “Mon Dieu, Marco, I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” My hands gripped his hips and guided him, supported him. “You’re perfect. This is perfect.”
His eyes met mine, and I saw everything in them. The trust, the love, the freedom.
He increased his pace and rode me hard, and a fine sheet of sweat formed on his forehead. It was intense and staggering and perfect. The rhythm and his hot, tight sheath had me on the cusp of coming. I adjusted my angle, found the spot within him that made him moan, and took his hard cock in my hand.
He gasped and lost control, his movements becoming erratic. “Marco, I can’t… I’m going to…”
“Let go. I’ve got you.”
He shuddered, his whole body tensed, and he came allover my stomach, shouting my name. As I watched him fall apart, my heart swelled like it never had before.
I thrust once, twice, and shot into the condom with a cry.
I pulled him down, held him as we trembled, as we gasped for breath. “I’ve got you,” I murmured. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
“That was…” He couldn’t finish, just buried his face in my neck.
“Yeah, it was.”
We lay there pressed together, hearts racing, both of us processing what had just happened. Eventually, Étienne pulled away enough to look at me, his eyes bright.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “For being patient with me. For—for everything.”
“Thank you for trusting me.” I smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “With your secret. With this. For choosing us.”
He kissed me, soft and sweet and full of all the emotions he wasn’t saying out loud. “Always. I choose you every time.”
We cleaned up in the bathroom, then crawled back into bed, wrapping around each other in the darkness. Outside, the world was still talking about the news of our coming out. Inside, we had this—the quiet, the tenderness, the freedom to just be together.
