“Missed your smart mouth too.” I nipped at the spot below his ear, felt the shiver that ran through him. “Missed being able to do this…”
My hands were already under his shirt, palms hungry against bare skin, sliding up his sides like I could memorize every inch by touch alone. Théo arched into me and I groaned, the sound pulled from somewhere deep and primal.
“Three weeks,” I muttered against his collarbone. “Three fucking weeks of not being able to touch you when I wanted…” I bit down gently and he gasped.
I yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it somewhere behind me. Then I froze, just looking. The lean muscle, the pale skin, the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
Mine.
“Everything okay?” Théo asked, a flush creeping up his neck.
“Just looking.” My thumb traced along his ribs, reverent. “I kept thinking about you. On the plane, in the hotel, during fucking practice. Couldn’t get you out of my head.”
His expression shifted—heat turning into concern. “Derek… this is your comeback season. You fought to get back here.” He swallowed. “You can’t be thinking about me during drills. I don’t want to be a distraction.”
I paused, thumb still tracing lazy circles on his ribs.
”You’re not a distraction.” I kissed his forehead, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. “You’re the best part of my day. Every day. I’m not going to apologize for that.”
He exhaled shakily. “You’re impossible.”
“You like it. Now stop arguing with me,” I murmured and leaned down to kiss him—not soft this time. Hungry. Devouring. My tongue swept into his mouth and the taste of him after weeks of nothing made my brain go haywire.
Théo moaned and scrambled at the hem of my shirt. I pulled back just long enough to strip it off, and then we were chest to chest, skin to skin, and I felt feral with it.
I rolled my hips, grinding my aching cock against his thigh, and the friction wasn’t nearly enough but it was something. Théo whimpered—this perfect, needy sound—and my last thread of restraint snapped.
“Missed this,” I groaned, rocking into him again. “Missed you under me. Missed the sounds you make.”
“Then stop teasing and make me make them.”
I laughed, breathless and a little wild. “Bossy.”
“You love it.”
“Yeah, I do.” I caught his wrists in one hand and pinned them above his head, pressing them into the mattress. His eyes went wide, his breath catching, and the way he just submitted made my cock throb. “But I thinkyoulove it when I’m in charge.”
My free hand worked at the button of his jeans, tugging them down along with his briefs in one impatient motion. Then my hand wrapped around his cock—hard and leaking and perfect—and he nearly jerked off the bed.
“Derek—”
“I’ve got you.” I stroked once, slow and deliberate, watching his face—the parted lips, the flutter of his lashes, the way his whole body trembled. I had almost forgotten how responsive he was. How beautiful. “I’ve got you, snowdrop.”
He stopped being sassy after that. He just let himself be touched, let himself be taken, and the trust in that made me want to ruin him and worship him in equal measure.
“Please,” he gasped. “Please, I need—”
“What do you need?” My thumb swept over the head and he shuddered, precum slicking my fingers. “Tell me.”
“You. All of you. I can’t—Please—”
I released his wrists and pulled back, stripping off the rest of my clothes so fast I nearly tripped over my own jeans. I didn’t care. I needed skin, needed closeness, needed to be inside him five minutes ago.
Then I was back, nothing between us, and the full body contact made us both groan. His legs wrapped around my waist immediately, pulling me closer, and I could feel the heat of him, the way our cocks slid together.
“Lube,” he demanded.
I reached over and fumbled for it, knocking the lamp off the nightstand. Neither of us cared.
