When I push into him—after stretching him, after coaxing him open, after whispering praise against his neck—Caleb lets out a raw, broken sound he barely muffles in the pillow.
“Mine,” I breathe into the shell of his ear, gripping his hips as I sink deeper, each piercing hitting all the right spots. “You hear me? You’re mine, Caleb.”
“Yours,” he gasps. “All yours, baby. Please… don’t stop.”
I won’t.
Not tonight.
Not ever.
I fuck him slow at first, deep, steady, grounding strokes that make his breath stutter and his back arch. Then harder, until the bed creaks and his fingers claw at the sheets. Every sound he makes punches straight through me.
Every whispered “Miguel—Miguel—fuck, please,”
It’s too much.
It’s perfect.
I drag him up against my chest, one hand around his throat, the other gripping his hip, my mouth on his shoulder as I thrust up into him.
“Mírame, hermoso. Todo esto es mío, ¿sí? Esta boca, este cuerpo, este corazón—todo para mí.”
His whole body shudders. “Fuuuck.”
“Dímelo otra vez, quién te hace sentir así.”I growl against his skin.“Dilo, mi amor.”
He chokes on a moan. “You do. I’m so fucking yours, baby.”
“And I’m yours,” I answer, thrusting harder. “No matter what he thinks. No matter how long it takes him. I’m yours.”
His hand reaches back blindly and grips my forearm, nails digging in.
“Mig—I’m gonna—fuck?—”
“Do it,” I whisper into his ear, biting lightly at the lobe.“Eso, eso, así mi amor. Qué rico suena cuando te vienes para mí.”
He does.
Hard.
I follow him seconds later, buried deep inside his ass, groaning against his shoulder. When it’s over, it takes forever for either of us to move. Caleb is limp on the bed, face buried in the pillow, breath uneven. I pull out gently and collapse beside him, dragging him immediately into my chest. His hair sticks to his forehead, his cheeks are flushed and his lips are kiss-swollen.
He looks loved.
Because he is.
He turns his face into my neck, breathing me in. “Miggy,” he whispers, small and soft and safe. “Don’t go.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I kiss his hair. “Not tonight. Not ever.”
He exhales shakily, hand splaying over my chest. Caleb falls asleep against me like he hasn’t slept in days.
And I hold him like I was made for it.
THIRTY
CALEB
