Adriel went still.
His heart was going at a pace that felt unreasonable. Zach's fingers were warm against his jaw, holding him in place with a gentleness that somehow felt more immovable than force. His eyes were steady. Patient. Like he had nowhere else to be and nothing else to do.
Adriel had no idea what to do with that either.
He sat very still and breathed carefully and did not move, because moving felt like it might end something, and he didn't want it to end. He didn't know yet what it was, only that it was warm and directed entirely at him, and he was so hungry for it that the hunger frightened him. It sat low in his belly, a quiet ache, a wanting so deep it felt like homesickness.
Nobody looked at him like this. Not seriously. Men like Zach, easy in their skin, comfortable in their body, they lookedthrough Adriel, or past him, or with the polite distant courtesy of someone being kind to a stranger. Not like this. Not like he was something worth the attention.
Like he wassomething.
Zach's thumb traced the line of his jaw. Once. Twice. A slow, deliberate mapping, like he was learning the shape of him by touch. His eyes dropped to Adriel's mouth, and something shifted in the air between them; a current, a charge, the quiet before a storm.
"I've been wanting to do this for weeks," Zach murmured, his voice lower now, rough at the edges. "Did you know that?"
Adriel shook his head. A tiny motion. He couldn't have spoken if he'd tried.
Zach leaned in.
The first brush of his lips was impossibly soft. A question more than a kiss, the barest pressure, like he was asking permission. Adriel's breath caught, a small, shattered sound that seemed to come from somewhere outside himself.
He didn't move. Didn't dare. His eyes fluttered closed and the world narrowed to this single point of contact; Zach's lips against his, warm and patient and wanting him.
Then Zach kissed him again. Slower this time, firmer, his hand sliding from Adriel's jaw to the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair. He pulled Adriel closer, and Adriel went, helpless and willing, his body finally allowed to do what it had been wanting since they met. His hand found Zach's shoulder, then his chest, palm pressed flat against the warmth of him, feeling the steady thud of his heart.
Zach's mouth opened against his. His tongue traced the seam of Adriel's lips, and Adriel let him in, let him in and felt it everywhere; the slide of his tongue against his own, the taste of him, something warm and faintly sweet. He made a sound, low in his throat, that he'd never heard himself make before.
Zach's hand tightened in his hair. His other hand found Adriel's waist, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his sweater, pulling him closer until the careful six inches between them was nothing, until Adriel could feel the heat of his body all down his side, until there was no space left for the voice in his head that whisperedthis isn't for you.
It was for him. Right now, it was for him.
Adriel kissed him back. Clumsy at first, uncertain, still learning the rhythm of it, the give and take. But Zach matched him, slowed for him, let him find his way. Patient. Like he had all the time in the world and nothing he'd rather be doing.
When they finally broke apart, Adriel was breathless. His lips were tingling, his heart was pounding, and his eyes, when they opened, were wet. He hadn't noticed the tears until they spilled over, two hot tracks down his cheeks.
Zach's thumb caught them. His forehead came to rest against Adriel's, their breath mingling in the small space between.
"Hey," Zach whispered. "You okay?"
Adriel nodded. Swallowed. Tried to find words and couldn't.
This is what it feels like,he thought.This is what it feels like to be wanted.
He hadn't yet learned what it would cost him.
Chapter 5
Adriel
The break room was small and smelled of microwaved soup and the burnt-sugar residue of the coffee machine running too long. Two chairs. A narrow counter. A window that looked out onto the building next door, close enough to see the offices opposite but not close enough to see into them properly.
Adriel had it to himself.
He stood at the counter, back to the door, waiting for the kettle to boil. His shoulders were loose for once.
It had been a decent morning. A manuscript that actually excited him. A quiet desk. No one needing anything from him. He'd let himself have it; the small luxury of existing without bracing. Four minutes, maybe five. He counted them like currency, these moments when his body forgot to be afraid.
The kettle hummed. He watched the steam rise.
