He pushed deeper, crooking his finger, searching—and then he found it.
“Fuck—” The sensation jolted through me, sharp and electric, nothing like I’d expected. “Holy shit.”
“There it is.” He sounded smug. “Good?”
“I—yeah—” I couldn’t form a complete sentence. He did it again and my hips jerked involuntarily, chasing the pressure.
“That’s it.” His voice dropped, honey warm. “Just feel it.”
He worked me open slowly, adding a second finger, rubbing that spot with maddening precision. I was hard again—achingly hard—and leaking onto my stomach without either of us touching my cock.
“Théo—” My voice cracked. “I’m gonna—if you keep doing that—”
“That’s the idea.” He kissed my hip. “Let go, Derek. I want to watch you fall apart.”
He curled his fingers one more time and I came untouched, back arching off the bed, a sound torn from my throat that I didn’t recognize. It rolled through me in waves, longer and deeper than anything I’d felt before, leaving me boneless and gasping.
When I finally opened my eyes, Théo was watching me with an expression caught between tender and triumphant.
“Good?” he asked.
I pulled him up and kissed him, still shaking. “I think you broke me.”
“In a good way?”
“In the best way.”
He laughed softly against my mouth. “Welcome to the wonderful world of prostate orgasms.”
“I can’t feel my legs.”
“That’s normal.” He settled against my chest, smug and satisfied. “You’re welcome.”
I wrapped my arms around him and held on, heart still racing. This man. This impossible, sharp edged, beautiful man who kept surprising me at every turn.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “For showing me.”
He tilted his head up. “Thank you for letting me.”
We lay there in the fading afternoon light, tangled together, and I thought—not for the first time—that I would do anything to keep this.
To keep him.
44. Théo
I was folding laundry on the couch and watching some reality TV when Avery came home with takeout bags. He’d texted earlier to ask if I wanted to have dinner and I’d said yes—partly because I didn’t feel like cooking, partly because I needed to tell him. About Derek. About everything.
My stomach had been in knots all afternoon.
I was nibbling on a fresh spring roll as he wolfed down a banh mi with pork belly, extra pickled veggies. Bread crumbs rained down on the kitchen counter, unnoticed. Avery ate like an animal. A wild animal. That had been starved.
I chose the topic with the lowest chance of immediate emotional catastrophe. “I’m training for the Maple Leaf Classic.”
He spoke around a mouthful of banh mi. “What! That’s awesome, Théo!”
“Don’t tell mom. I don’t want her to get her hopes up. I’m barely starting to land quads again.”
He swallowed. “It would probably make her worry less knowing you’re heading back on track.”
