I curled my fingers against the spot inside him and watched his cock kick against his stomach. A bead of pre-cum welled at his slit and broke and ran slow down the curve of his shaft.
“Look at me.” I needed his eyes on me. “Stay with me.”
He stayed.
I slicked my cock. The brown of my shaft shining with the lube, the head of me already flushed dark from being hard against his thigh for the last twenty minutes. When I pushed into him, slow, careful, my forehead pressed to his, his hands gripped my shoulders and held on. The metal pulled the same small breath out of him it always did now, the sound his body gave up without his permission, the shape of a sensation he’d learned to want. The PA dragged through the tight ring of him and his mouth opened on a soundless O. I kissed it from his mouth and gave it back to him.
“You feel incredible,” he managed.
I didn’t hold back either. The sounds we made were embarrassing and real, and we matched them, little exhales and groans we used to stifle. We let them go. Our faces revealed everything.
Ellis truly let go. The performance dropped off him. Just us. The way our bodies fit. My hips moving. The way he said my name like it was a question andan answer at once.
“Tell me,” I murmured.
“Tell you what.”
“Anything. Everything. The thing you used to swallow.”
He didn’t answer right away. His head turned into my shoulder. His mouth pressed against the place under my ear. Then:
“I love how you feel inside me. I love the metal. I love that I had to learn it. I love how I’m the only one you’ll ever do this with again.”
That last sentence stirred something behind my sternum. The certainty of it. The way he’d said it like it was already settled.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Just you. Always just you.”
I shifted my weight onto one forearm. My free hand worked between us, found his cock between our stomachs slick already with his own pre-cum, and started stroking him slow in time with my hips. The wet of him made my hand glide easily. He gasped into my mouth.
“I’m not going to last.”
“Then don’t.”
“Jett…”
“Come for me. I want to feel you.”
He came with my name on his mouth and his hand fisted in my hair and his back arching up off the mattress. His cock pulsed thick in my fist. The come came hot and white in three thick spills across his stomach and over my fingers, and the way his body tightened around me sent me over a thrust later. My forehead pressed hard to his. My cock pulsed deep inside him, the come of me filling him in long hot pulses, his name on my mouth, both of us shaking and laughing wet through it like we’d never done this before, like it was new every single time, like it was going to keep being new for as long as we kept doing it.
“I’m here,” I whispered into the damp skin below his ear, the way I’d been whispering it since the first time he’d let me in. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He held me tighter and let me hold him, and Brooklyn quieted down tonothing.
Afterward, we tangled in his sheets. His arm weighed across my stomach. My head rested on his chest, listening to his heartbeat decelerate. The dark apartment had stopped feeling like isolation.
He traced something across my ribs. Drawing invisible patterns.
“I love you.” The words fell out, unadorned. No joke appended. No deflection. “I’m terrified most of the time, but I love you and I want to keep showing up.”
His fingers stilled on my skin.
“That’s not what you’d have said several months ago.” His voice came careful.
“I was still running then. Still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for you to realize you could do better than a chaotic Dominican kid with commitment issues.”
He tilted my chin up. “There’s nothing to realize, Jett, because it’s not true.”
“I know,” I said, and it was strange how easy that was to accept. “I’m starting to know that.”
