“Derek—”
“But if you need this to be about sex right now, that’s okay.” He released my wrist and leaned down, bracing himself over me, his mouth hovering just above mine. “We can do that. Just know that it doesn’t change anything for me.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. So I pulled him down and kissed him again, arching up so our bare chests pressed together, so I could feel his heartbeat against mine.
I flicked open the button of his shorts and pulled down the zipper, reaching inside his boxer briefs to grip his erection. His responding groan was absolutely delicious and I swallowed the sound, kissing him deeper as I stroked him slowly.
“Fuck, Théo.” He broke the kiss, panting against my mouth. “That feels incredible.”
“Have you done this before?” I asked. “With a man?”
“No.” His voice was strained. “I’ve never—Mackenzie was the only person I’ve ever been with.”
I stilled.
He had only ever been with one person. At 28 years old.
Figure skaters fucked like it was an Olympic sport. Lean, flexible bodies pressed together in hotel rooms, adrenaline and proximity doing most of the work. Hookups were as routine as warm ups. Quick, uncomplicated, forgotten by the next event. Nico had been the exception. The only one who’d meant something. During our off periods, I hadn’t exactly been waiting around. Everyone else was just bodies and heat, no strings, no expectations.
But Derek wasn’t built like the men I was used to. He was taller, broader, all that hockey muscle filling out his frame in ways that made my mouth water. Solid where skaters were lithe. Powerful where we were precise. His body was designed for impact, for endurance—not the delicate architecture of a figure skater built to defy gravity.
And he’d only ever been with one person.
It should have scared me off. Too much weight. Too much responsibility. The kind of thing that came with expectations and feelings and all the complications I’d spent years avoiding.
Instead, the thought of being his first—of teaching him what his body could do with a man—sent a dark thrill straight through me.
“Well, Saint Sully,” I murmured against his jaw, “let me show you what you’ve been missing.”
I pushed him onto his back and he went willingly, letting me straddle him, his hands settling on my hips like they belonged there. I pressed kisses along his throat, feeling his pulse jump beneath my lips. His chest smelled warm and citrusy and I wanted to bury my face there and just breathe him in.
But the delicious friction of our erections was calling me. Even through the layers of fabric still between us, I could feel him hard and hot against me. It had been too long since I had touched and been touched. Too long since I’d let anyone this close.
I kissed my way down his chest, scraping my teeth lightly over one nipple just to hear him gasp. Then lower, over the ridges of his abs, following the trail of dark hair that led beneath his waistband.
I settled between his legs and tugged at his shorts and boxer briefs. He lifted his hips to help me work the fabric down his thighs and then he was bare before me.
He had a lovely cock.
Thick and straight, with a ridge of veins along its length. The head was flushed an angry purple, already leaking, glistening at the tip. It curved slightly toward his stomach, twitching under my gaze like it knew it was being admired.
I wrapped my hand around the base and he sucked in a breath. Then I leaned forward and laved at the head with my tongue. The noise he made was strangled, desperate, his hips bucking up involuntarily before he caught himself. His hand flew to my hair, not pushing, just holding on like he needed to anchor himself to something.
“Oh my God,” he breathed. “Théo—”
I took him deeper, savouring the weight of him on my tongue, the salt of his precum, the way his thighs trembled oneither side of my head. This I could understand. This made sense. The physical. The carnal. The simple transaction of pleasure given and received.
The gentle looks. The soft kisses. The tender smiles. Those made me want to close my eyes and run.
But this—his cock in my mouth, his moans filling the room, his body arching beneath me—this I knew how to do. This I was good at.
I took him deeper, hollowing my cheeks, setting a rhythm designed to destroy him. His hand tightened in my hair and I moaned around him, letting him feel the vibration.
“Théo, fuck, I—” His voice was wrecked. Shattered. “I’m not going to last if you keep—”
I pulled off just long enough to look up at him through my lashes. “Then don’t.”
Something in him snapped as I guided him back into my mouth.
