I grinned, holding him close. “Good.”
Outside, the world kept on turning, but in this room, time finally stood still. We belonged to each other. Always.
Carter dozed for all of a minute, curled into my chest with one thigh flung over my hip, before he started to stir again. I could tell by the change in his breathing—long, even to short and sharp, like he was surfacing through layers of ice. His hair was plastered to his forehead, damp with sweat, and he mumbled something into my skin that could have been a curse or a prayer.
I palmed the back of his head, guiding his face up so I could see his eyes. They were glassy, pupils blown wide, like he’d been high for hours. I kissed his temple, then his cheek, then the edge of his jaw. I wanted to leave a mark everywhere, a map only I knew how to read.
He made a noise, soft and open-mouthed, then shifted so his cock pressed against my thigh. Still hard, still leaking. My own cock was already getting stiff again, a raw ache that hadn’t dulled at all with release. He looked at me, lips swollen, and I saw the plea before he even opened his mouth.
“More?” I asked.
He nodded, and I flipped us so he was on his back, the quilt bunched under his shoulders, belly shining with come and sweat. His hole was still flushed and a little red, rim twitching every time I touched him. I could see where I’d already stretched him, and it made my mouth water.
I knelt between his legs, spreading them wide, and let my hands roam over his thighs. He was so fucking beautiful like this: open, unafraid, hungry. I bent down and licked the inside of his knee, then trailed up to the soft skin of his thigh, biting just enough to make him gasp.
I reached for the lube again, slicking my fingers, and worked two back inside him. He moaned, head tipped back, exposing the long line of his neck. I watched his face as I curled my fingers, searching for the spot that made him fall apart. Found it, pressed, and his whole body jerked.
“Oh fuck—Macon—please—” He was almost sobbing, the words tumbling out of him like he’d been holding them in for years.
I pumped my fingers, scissoring him open, and watched as his cock drooled against his belly. His nipples were hard and wet, chest heaving, and I palmed one, rolling it between my fingers. He bucked, desperate.
“Look at me,” I said.
He dragged his gaze back to mine, eyes glazed and desperate.
“You’re mine,” I told him, voice low and absolute.
He nodded, then, “Yes. Yours. Always.”
I withdrew my fingers and lined up my cock, nudging the head against his hole. He reached down, hand wrapping around my wrist, grounding himself. I pressed in, slow and steady, letting him feel every inch. He was so fucking tight, even after the first round, and I had to grit my teeth not to lose it right there.
When I bottomed out, hips flush to his ass, I paused, letting him adjust.
He looked up at me, mouth trembling. “You can move,” he whispered.
I started slow, rolling my hips, the motion deep and grinding. His legs came up, locking around my waist, pulling me in even deeper. I grabbed his ankles, pinning them to my shoulders, and changed the angle. He howled, nails digging into my arms.
“You like that?” I said, breathless.
“God—yes—harder—”
I gave it to him. I fucked him deep, each thrust lifting his hips off the mattress, the sound of our bodies colliding loud in the small room. He writhed, helpless under me, eyes rolling back, hands scrambling for anything to hold onto. Careful of his rounded stomach, I grabbed both wrists, pinning them above his head, and bent down to bite his throat.
“Mine,” I growled, just above his pulse.
He sobbed, body clamping down around me, and I felt him start to come again, spurting across his belly, the muscles in his legs spasming.
I let go of his wrists and grabbed his hips, pulling him down onto my cock, slamming in harder, faster. I chased my own orgasm, chasing the heat that was building at the base of my spine, until I finally lost it—came so hard it felt like the world broke open and all that was left was Carter, shaking and spent and perfect beneath me.
When I came down, I slumped over him, catching myself on my forearms so I didn’t crush him. He was still trembling, a wet mess between us, but he looked up at me with this expression—like he couldn’t believe it was real.
I kissed him, slow this time, licking the salt from his lips. He kissed back, soft and sweet, then rested his forehead against mine.
“Don’t ever let me go,” he said, voice cracked.
“Never,” I promised.
I pulled out, careful, and rolled onto my side, dragging him into my arms. He burrowed in, pressing his face to my chest, and I stroked his back until the tremors eased.
