“God, your mouth,” he pants, his voice wrecked already. “I’m not going to last.”
“You will,” I murmur against his skin, pulling back before he can come. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”
I reach for the lube we left on the nightstand, coating my fingers as Thatcher watches with hungry eyes. The first touch against his hole makes him cry out, his back arching as I work him open.
“More,” he demands, his voice breaking. “Pierce, I need more.”
I add another finger, then another, stretching him slowly while my mouth returns to his cock. The combination of sensations has him writhing beneath me, desperate sounds spilling from his lips.
“Now,” he begs. “Please, I need you now.”
I position myself at his entrance, the head of my cock slick with lube. “Look at me,” I command softly. “I want to see your eyes when I’m inside you.”
Thatcher’s gaze locks with mine as I push forward slowly, both of us gasping at the sensation. He’s tight and hot and perfect, and when I’m fully seated, I have to pause to catch my breath.
“Move,” he whispers, his legs wrapping around my waist. “Please move.”
I start slowly, each thrust deliberate and deep. Thatcher meets me stroke for stroke, his hands gripping my shoulders as we find our rhythm. The morning light catches the sheen of sweat on his skin, and I lean down to lick a path up his throat, tasting salt and desire.
“I love you,” I gasp against his ear, my control starting to slip. “I love you so much it’s destroying me.”
“I love you too,” he cries out, his body clenching around me. “Pierce, I’m close…”
“Come for me,” I breathe, reaching between us to stroke his cock. “Let me see you fall apart one more time.”
Thatcher’s orgasm crashes over him with devastating force, his body arching as he comes between us. The sight of him lost in pleasure, the way he clenches around me, sends me over the edge immediately after.
We collapse together, breathing hard, my softening cock still buried inside him. The silence is broken only by our racing hearts and the distant sounds of the city waking up below.
“I don’t want to let you go,” I whisper against his hair.
“Then don’t. Not yet.” His arms tighten around me. “Just a few more minutes.”
We lie tangled together in silence, neither of us wanting to be the first to acknowledge that we need to get ready for work.
“We should…” Thatcher starts, then trails off.
“I know.” But I don’t move, can’t bring myself to let go of him yet.
“This is harder than I thought it would be,” he admits, his voice small.
“We can do this,” I say, trying to convince myself as much as him. “We have to.”
Eventually, necessity forces us from bed. We shower together one last time, hands gentle and reverent as we wash each other. Getting dressed feels like putting on armor, each piece of clothing another barrier between us and what we just shared.
“I’ll meet you there since I drove in yesterday,” Thatcher says as we stand by my door, both of us reluctant to leave. “Besides, I need to go home to get dressed. My boss probably wouldn’t appreciate me turning up in casual clothes.”
I reach for him one last time, pulling him close for a kissthat tastes like goodbye. “I love you. And I would totally appreciate you in any clothes.”
“I love you too.” He steps back, straightening his tie with hands that shake slightly. “See you at the office, Mr. Dellcourt.”
The formal address feels like a knife to the chest, but I nod. “See you there, Mr. Charles.”
Watching him leave is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Two hours later, I’m at my desk, trying to focus on reports, but the numbers blur together meaninglessly. Through the glass walls, I can see Thatcher at his desk, his usual animated energy subdued. He’s being professional, polite, everything he should be. But I can see the way he avoids looking directly at my office, the forced smile he gives to passing colleagues.
This is even harder than I thought it would be. Seeing him there, knowing I can’t touch him, can’t steal moments in the roof garden, or leave flirty responses to his sticky notes, is torture. Every instinct I have screams at me to go to him, to pull him close and forget about the rest of the world.
