His hands trembled as he reached for me, his jaw working soundlessly, caught between what he wanted to say and what he was too afraid to admit.
And then he kissed me.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was desperate and hungry and filled with everything he couldn’t say.
His hands fisted in my hair, holding me in place as his mouth claimed mine. I kissed him back just as fiercely, my hands clutching at his shirt, pulling him closer.
We stumbled backward until my back hit the wall, and Tony pressed against me, his body hard and demanding.
“I need you,” he gasped against my mouth. “I need tonight. I need this. I need you.”
“Tony—”
“Let’s focus on tonight, Simon,” he said, his voice rough with desperation. “Tomorrow will work itself out.”
Except I’d had six years of tomorrows and none of them had worked out. The word echoed through me, and suddenly I understood what he was really saying. It was always tomorrow because tomorrow never turned into today. Tomorrow was always the problem we could push off, the one we never had to make a decision about.
Thathenever had to make a decision about.
I would have to make the decision for us.
Because I couldn’t keep doing this. Couldn’t keep being the secret he hid away, the man he touched in the dark but wouldn’t claim in the light. Couldn’t keep pretending that his love was enough when it came wrapped in shame and denial.
Tony would never come out. He’d made that clear in every word, every action, every time he pulled away from me in public. And I couldn’t spend the rest of my life waiting for a man who would never be brave enough to choose me openly.
Even though he loved me. Even though I could feel it in every desperate kiss, every touch, every tear on his face.
It wasn’t enough.
And tonight, I finally had to accept that.
“Okay,” I whispered, and the word tasted like goodbye. “Okay.”
Tony’s mouth was on mine again, and this time the kiss was slower, deeper. His hands moved to my shirt, unbuttoning it with careful precision, as if he had all the time in the world.
As if we weren’t falling apart.
He pushed the fabric off my shoulders, and his hands traced the lines of my body. As if he were memorizing my chest, my stomach, my hips.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured against my skin. “So perfect.”
I closed my eyes, letting the words wash over me, even though I knew they weren’t enough.
They would never be enough.
Tony’s mouth moved down my neck, his teeth grazing my collarbone, his tongue tracing the hollow of my throat. I arched into him, my hands tangling in his hair, holding him close.
He sank to his knees in front of me, his hands working at my belt, my zipper. He pulled my pants down, and I stepped out of them, standing before him in nothing but my boxers.
Tony looked up at me, and the expression on his face mademy heart hurt. There was so much love there, so much need, so much regret.
He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my boxers and pulled them down, freeing my cock. I was already half-hard, my body responding to him the way it always did.
Tony wrapped his hand around me, stroking slowly, and I gasped at the sensation. He leaned forward and took me into his mouth, and I had to brace myself against the wall to keep from collapsing.
His mouth was hot and wet and perfect, and he took me deep, his tongue working against the underside of my cock. I moaned, my hips jerking forward involuntarily, and Tony’s hands gripped my hips, holding me steady.
He worked me slowly, deliberately, like he was savoring every moment. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, and the intensity in his gaze made my breath catch.
