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“Better?” I whisper.

“Yeah.”

I continue to kiss him while I stroke. After a few minutes, he tugs my boxers down, and we’re stroking each other. All I have is the feel of him in the dark, and the sound of our breathing. His ragged, mine barely controlled. Then there’s the sound of skin on skin, slick and urgent, and the occasional wet slap of our greedy tongues and lips.

He feels so good, but I can’t tell him. Not with my words. Words are too inadequate for this anyway, and someone might hear.

I think about how he’s here, willing to be uncomfortable and out of his element because I asked him to be. I need him to know how much it means to me. I want him to feel my gratitude, my devotion, my absolute certainty that he’s everything I need. I think about how he trusts me with his body, his heart.

I move between his legs to put my mouth on him. He loses his grip on me when I do, his hands scrabbling for the sheets instead.

I take him into my mouth. I know he’ll make a noise—that beautiful, broken sound he makes when pleasure overwhelms him—so I clap a hand over his mouth, covering the sound he makes when I take him deep.

I can practically feel his eyes rolling to the back of his head as I drag my tongue up and down the veins of his length, tasting the salt of him. My jaw aches, but I don’t care. This is how I love him, with my mouth, my hands, my entire body. Every touch is a gentle possession. You’re mine, baby.

His hips buck slightly, trying to push deeper, and I let him, relaxing my throat, taking him all the way. He’s trembling beneath me, and I press my free hand against his hip to hold him against the bed.

He grips my hair as he bursts in the back of my throat. I try to swallow it all, but it’s a lot. Some of it drips out of the corner of my mouth, and I catch it with my hand before it hits the bed.

He’s breathing hard. I can tell he’s eager to reciprocate by how quickly he’s on me. He wraps his lips around my tip and sucks me the way I like. He knows exactly how to please me. He’s learned my body, but it isn’t difficult. I’m made for him.

I bite my lip, not wanting to make any noise, but it’s a losing battle. My fingers find his hair, threading through it, securing myself to him. Sometimes I like guiding him, feeling him submit to my rhythm. I like the control it gives me. But tonight, there’s no need. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows what I need before I even know I need it.

There’s no guiding tonight. He’s worshipping me the way I worship him.

Baby, you’re everything. I stay quiet, preventing any unnecessary noise, thinking what I cannot say.

I secure my hand in his hair and thrust carefully to the back of his throat, where there’s no gag reflex. Amazing. He doesn’t pull back. He stays there for me. He always stays.

Fuck, it feels so good, baby. It’s unbelievable. You’re unbelievable.

I bite down hard and release into his throat. He chokes a little, and the sound goes straight through me. Guilt and love and devotion. I use my fingers to find his jaw and lift him to me, pulling him up so I can kiss him, taste myself on his tongue. It’s obscene and perfect, and I need him to know, without words, without saying it aloud, that he’s everything. My entire world.

“Are you okay?” I whisper.

“Yeah,” he answers.

“You taste good,” he says.

“Oh, baby, so do you,” I whisper back.

He stands and pulls on his boxers, then crawls into the adjacent bed.

It feels far away, but at least I can hear him breathing.

“Good night,” I whisper.

“Good night,” he whispers back.

I lie there in the darkness, listening to the sound of his breathing evening out as he falls asleep. My body is still humming, still vibrating with the aftershocks of what we just did. But my mind is racing.

Cameron is here, in this house, in this room. He’s breathing the same air as my father, existing in the same space where I learned what it meant to be afraid.

And he has no idea.

He has no idea the risk involved in every moment I spend with him here. That every touch, every whispered word, every stolen kiss in the dark is an act of defiance against everything my father tried to beat out of me.

But I don’t care.