“You’re enjoying this,” he says quietly.
I hum, the sound vibrating through my chest. “You taught me patience,” I reply. “I’m just… testing the hypothesis.”
His breath hitches, sharp and unmistakable.
He circles me then, deliberately unhurried, his presence a constant brush against my senses even when he’s not touching me. I feel him behind me, then to my side, then in front—his shadow passing over my skin, his attention never wavering. It’s intoxicating, being watched like this. Beingseen.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs.
“Am I?” I ask, though I know I am. Not from fear. From want. From the way his voice drops when he’s fighting himself.
He stops in front of me, close enough now that I can feel the warmth radiating off him, smell the familiar comfort of him—earth, pine, and the unmistakable scent that’s simply Boone. He crouches, bringing us closer to eye level, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the space between us, taut and humming.
His hand lifts, hovering near my shoulder, not quite touching. “Say the word,” he says softly, “and I stop.”
I don’t hesitate. “I promise.”
His expression breaks open at that—relief, desire, and a fierce protective tenderness all tangled together. His hand settles on my shoulder at last, heavy and grounding, thumb brushing a slow, deliberate line along my collarbone.
“Then stay right there,” he murmurs. “Let me look at you.”
I do. I let him. The way his gaze roams over me feels like a promise—one he’s choosing, again and again, to keep just barely contained.
The moment stretches, trembling on the edge of everything, until finally—finally—I sense movement. My gaze drops, and I swear that seeing his cock emerge from the fold at his groin will never get old.
And the size of him….
I wriggle my ass in anticipation, lips parting. He’s going to stretch me to capacity, fill me so completely that I won’t know where I end and he begins. But it’s so much more than the surprising size kink I’ve developed since meeting Boone.
Hand to heart, without hesitation—and without even the impulse to roll my eyes or scoff—I know that once we fuck like this, it will cement what we already are. Make him mine and me his in a way my scientific brain can’t quite process, no matter how hard it tries.
Boone reaches for me, fingers skating over my ass. It absolutely isn’t as magnificent ashis—a fact I resent on principle—but his low huff of appreciation makes it increasingly difficult not to keep moving.
I drop my head to my chest when Boone taps lightly on the giant plug, my groan ripping free before I can stop it. A throaty growl spills from him, and barely a second later, he nudges the plug—slow circles, then a slow, deliberate slip in and out.
Each movement sends my breathing into chaos, need spiraling fast and hot. Words I never usually say tear loose as I press my forehead into the bed, ass high, begging shamelessly,
“Boone—fuck—baby, please. I need you to fuck me.”
My hole gapes as fresh air hits it. The soft thud of the plug landing on the mattress sends goose bumps racing over my skin, but there’s no time to look back—no time to think—before two of his thick, slick fingers press inside me.
“Elias.” My name is a deep, chesty rumble. “You were made for me.”
“That’s what I’ve been s?—”
The rest of my words vanish when he pushes a third finger inside, stroking my prostate with devastating precision.
My vision blurs. Tears sting at the corners of my eyes as I stammer, “I—I need you.”
“Then you will have all of me.”
He doesn’t make me wait.
Finally.
The press of his cock against my hole turns my panting breaths choppy, uneven. I bite down hard on my lower lip, the pressure alone—his slick sliding between my legs, the promise of being filled—almost too much.
When my cock pulses, I grab it fast, squeezing once before clutching my balls, tightening my grip. Not a chance in hell I’m coming before I get thoroughly dicked down.
