I wanted to feel every inch of him, to taste every part of his skin. I broke the kiss and trailed my lips down his jaw, his throat, feeling his pulse flutter under my tongue. He let out a shaky breath and tilted his head back, giving me more access.
"God, you smell good," I murmured into the hollow of his collarbone.
"It's you," he whispered back, and his voice cracked. "It's your smell. I love it."
I lifted my head and looked at him. His eyes were dark now, pupils blown, and he was biting his lower lip, a nervous habitI'd already learned. The trust in his gaze left me unexpectedly emotional. He was so open, so unguarded, and I wanted to be worthy of that.
"Good morning," I said, and my voice was low, rough with want.
He laughed, breathless. "Good morning." He pulled me down for another kiss, and this time his tongue swept into my mouth, bold and sweet. I groaned and pressed him into the mattress, feeling the soft give of his body under mine.
The kiss deepened, became more frantic. My hand slid down his side, over the dip of his waist, the flare of his hip. The sheet was in the way. I tugged at it, frustrated, and he laughed against my mouth, a sound that vibrated through my whole body.
"Off," he said, pulling at the hem of my boxers. "I want everything off."
I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked down at him. I reached for the waistband of his boxers, sliding them down his legs slowly, deliberately.
He lifted his hips to help me, and the fabric came away, exposing his cock, already fully hard, curving up against his stomach. The sight of him—so beautiful, so eager—made my mouth water.
I hooked my fingers into my own boxers and pushed them down, then kicked them off. The air hit my skin, raised goosebumps, but the heat between us was immediate, a furnace that consumed everything. He pulled me toward him, wrapped his legs around my hips, and then we were skin to skin, chest to chest, and the length of his cock pressed against mine.
I stilled, just feeling it. The weight. The warmth. The way his breath hitched when I rolled my hips, sliding my shaft along his. The friction was perfect. Not too much, not too little, and every small movement sent waves of heat through me.
"Oh," he breathed. "That's—yeah."
I did it again, slower, watching his face. His eyes fell half-closed, his lips parted, and a flush crept down his chest. Our cocks slid together, slick with the precum already beading at both our tips. I could feel every ridge, every vein, every twitch of his body against mine. It was intimate in a way I hadn't expected, a slow, deliberate dance of skin and heat.
"You like that, baby?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
He nodded, mouth open, and pushed his hips up to meet mine. I braced myself on my forearms, one hand cradling the back of his head, and I rocked into him.
Our bodies moved together in a slow, languid rhythm, the head of my cock rubbing against his, the heavy, wet slide of skin on skin. The sounds we made—soft grunts, gasps, the slick whisper of our movements—filled the quiet room.
I let my weight settle on him, pressing him deeper into the mattress, and he wrapped his arms around my neck, his legs tightening around my hips.
The angle shifted, and suddenly the head of his cock caught against the slit of mine, a sensation that made us both gasp.
"Thane," he said, his voice a plea.
I didn't answer with words. I shifted, aligning myself more carefully, and took us both in hand, and that was when I noticed the soft give of him, the way his foreskin slid loose and unhurried over the flushed head beneath.
Something about it undid me. I drew my own length up against his, slow, until the tip of me nudged at that softness, at the place where his skin gathered.
"I want to try something," I breathed, easing forward, coaxing the head of my cock just under the warm hood of him until we were sheathed together, joined in a way I'd never been with anyone.
The heat was unbelievable—close, wet, impossibly intimate. His eyes flew open.
"Oh my God," he whispered, staring down at where we were joined. "Is that—are we?—?"
"Shh. Just feel it," I whispered, holding still, holding him. "I've got you."
He nodded, breathless, and I began to move. Not thrusting now, but rocking, small and careful, the head of me cradled inside the snug heat of his skin. There was nowhere for either of us to go, and that was the point.
We were held together, sealed, every minute shift sending a slick pulse of sensation through us both. The friction was different now—deeper, more contained, almost unbearably tender. I could feel every twitch and throb of him against the most sensitive part of me, and the way his body answered mine made me dizzy with want.
The room filled with the sound of our breathing, the soft creak of the bed, the whisper of the sheets. Kieran's hands roamed my back, my shoulders, gripping, releasing. His legs opened wider, inviting me deeper into the cradle of his hips, and I sank into him, pressing my whole body against his, my mouth finding his throat.
"Tell me what you need," I murmured against his pulse.
