Elliot nods, his eyes still half-lidded from our kiss. “You’re right.”
“What do you want? We can go out, or I can order in.” I brush my thumb across his lower lip, still damp from our kiss.
His expression falters slightly. “I’m not ready to... to be seen yet. Not with everything that’s happened.”
“Take out it is.” I don’t push him, understanding his hesitation. “Thai?”
“Perfect.”
I make the call, ordering from Lotus Garden—apparently the best Thai in Ravenwood, according to my assistant. While we wait, I open a bottle of pinot noir and pour two glasses.
Elliot accepts it with a small smile, and we move to the living room. We sit close but not touching, the space between us charged. It’s not the usual sexual tension that normally drives our interactions.
“Thank you,” he says quietly, eyes on his wine glass. “For everything today.”
There’s something different about sitting here with him like this—fully clothed, having wine, waiting for food like ordinary people. It makes me uneasy in a way I haven’t felt before.
The food arrives, and I arrange the containers on the coffee table. We eat in a comfortable silence that occasionally gives way to light conversation. I watch him use chopsticks with perfect dexterity and notice how he closes his eyes when he tastes something particularly good.
This new tension between us feels more intimate than sex somehow. I find myself wanting to know his thoughts, his preferences beyond the bedroom, and that desire unsettles me more than any physical craving.
As we finish the last of our food, the air between us shifts. The containers sit empty on the coffee table, but neither of us moves to clear them away. Elliot’s gaze meets mine, and something passes between us. No words needed.
I set my wine glass down and reach for his hand, our fingers intertwining. The contact sends a current through me, different from the usual sharp lust. This feels... more profound.
“Come with me,” I whisper, leading him toward my bedroom.
Inside, I dim the lights and turn to face him. We undress each other slowly, nothing like our usual frantic tearing of clothes. His fingers brush my skin as he unbuttons my shirt. I pull his T-shirt over his head, taking time to appreciate the lines of his body.
When we’re both naked, I guide him to sit on the edge of the bed. His eyes follow me as I retrieve lube from the nightstand.
“Tonight,” I say, my voice soft, “I want something different.”
Elliot watches, pupils dilating as I prepare myself, working slick fingers inside my own body. I rarely give this part of myself to anyone, preferring control above all. But with Elliot, I seem to want him inside me constantly.
I straddle his lap, our cocks brushing together as I settle against him. His hands come to rest on my hips, steady and warm.
“I want us to flip-fuck,” I murmur against his ear. “I’ll ride you first.”
His breath catches. “Julian...”
I silence him with a kiss, slow and deep. Then I rise and reach between us, positioning him at my entrance. As I sink down, taking him inside me, I maintain eye contact. No masks. No games. Just us.
I rise and fall on Elliot’s cock, setting a rhythm that makes my own erection slap against his stomach with each movement. The friction sends waves of inescapable pleasure through my body, his thickness stretching me in ways few men ever have.
“Fuck, your cock feels so good inside me,” I growl, grinding my hips in a circular motion that makes him gasp. “So thick, stretching my ass just right.”
Sweat gleams on Elliot’s chest as he thrusts up to meet me. His hands grip my thighs hard enough to leave marks—marks I want him to leave.
“Julian,” he moans, watching where we’re joined. “You’re so tight. Fucking heavenly.”
I lean forward, changing the angle so his cock hits that magic spot with each thrust. “You like watching yourself disappear into me? Like seeing what you do to me?”
“God, yes,” Elliot bucks upward, harder now. “Never felt anything like you.”
The room fills with the obscene sounds of skin against skin, our breathing ragged and desperate. I ride him faster, chasing the electric sensation building at the base of my spine.
“You’re mine,” I hiss, bracing my hands on his chest for leverage. “This cock belongs to me.”
