Gregor rewarded the surrender by angling his hips differently on the next thrust, finding the spot he’d discovered with his fingers, and Fergal cried out so loudly that Gregor’s hand came up to cover his mouth reflexively.
“These walls are thinner than the compound’s,” Gregor murmured against his ear.
Fergal bit Gregor’s palm enough to sting, and the flash of defiance even in the middle of submission made Gregor’s chest flood with a love so vast it obliterated every shadow, every secret, every ghost he carried.
He increased the pace, but only slightly. Enough to push Fergal higher, enough to draw those incredible sounds from him on every stroke, enough that the pleasure building at the base of his own spine was becoming harder to hold back. The friction was extraordinary. Fergal’s body gripped him with a heat and pressure that seemed designed by some higher power to destroy his self-control.
He released Fergal’s mouth and found his hand instead, lacing their fingers together, pressing their joined hands into the pillow beside Fergal’s head. He could feel Fergal’s pulse through their linked fingers, racing in time with his own.
“Gregor.” Fergal’s voice was wrecked, reduced to syllables. “I’m close. I’m?—”
“I know.” He could feel the tightening of Fergal’s body around him, the quickening of his breath, the trembling in his thighs. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
He shifted his angle one more time, pressing deeper, hitting that spot on every stroke now, and Fergal shattered beneath him. His back arched, his mouth opened in a silent cry, and his cock pulsed between their bodies, untouched, spilling hot across their stomachs. The clench of Fergal’s body around him was rhythmic, involuntary, pulling at Gregor with a force that no amount of discipline could withstand.
Two more strokes. That was all it took. The orgasm crashed through Gregor like a wave breaking against stone, so intense that his vision went white and his arms nearly gave out. He buried himself deep and came with a groan that hemuffled against Fergal’s shoulder, his hips stuttering through the aftershocks, his cock pulsing inside the tight heat of Fergal’s body.
For a long, suspended moment, neither of them moved. They lay tangled together, breathing hard, hearts hammering against each other through sweat-slicked skin. Gregor was still inside Fergal, and the intimacy of that—the physical connection unbroken, their bodies still joined—was almost more overwhelming than the sex itself.
Fergal’s hand tightened around his. Their fingers were still laced together on the pillow, and Fergal squeezed once before his grip relaxed.
“So,” Fergal said, his voice hoarse and thoroughly wrecked. “For the record, that was worth the wait.”
Gregor snorted, a sound so unlike him, he almost startled himself. “Should I ask how long you were waiting?”
“Probably not. Pretty sure I wasn’t legal yet when I first wanted you.”
Gregor considered that for a moment, worry filling him. “I didn’t want you like that back then, just so we’re clear.”
“I know.”
“I would never?—”
“I know, Gregor. It was a teenage infatuation on my end that developed into…more.”
More. There was a euphemism Gregor did not want to unpack now. “Okay, good. I don’t want you to think I groomed you.”
Fergal did a slow blink. “Well, there’s a topic to bring up when you’re still buried inside me.”
Gregor winced. “Sorry?”
Another blink. “And now you’re apologizing. Is hell freezing over today and no one told me?”
“I’m gonna just shut up now.”
“Again, words I never imagined coming out of your mouth.”
Rather than replying again, Gregor kissed him—a soft, lingering kiss that said everything he should have. Fergal smiled as he kissed him back, his forgiveness as easy and immediate as always.
Gregor pressed a kiss to Fergal’s shoulder, tasting salt. Then he carefully withdrew, noticing the slight wince, quickly concealed.
“Stay,” Fergal murmured when Gregor moved to get up.
“I need to clean us up.”
“In a minute.”
Gregor settled beside him, pulling Fergal against his chest. They were sticky and sweaty and the bed was a wreck, and Gregor didn’t care about any of it. Fergal’s head found its place on his shoulder, and it all felt so right, so perfect.
