His body tightened around me.
The sensation dragged a groan from my chest, but I did not move deeper. I held him while release shook through him, one arm around his chest, my mouth against the back of his neck.
When the last tremor faded, I withdrew slowly.
Noah made a quiet sound of protest, then turned toward me.
I gathered him against my chest.
His face pressed into the hollow of my throat.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
His breathing remained uneven.
I stroked my palm down his back.
“Color?”
“Green.”
“Pain?”
“One.”
“Regret?”
“No.”
“Fear?”
He was silent long enough that I felt his answer before he gave it.
“Gone.”
I kissed his hair.
He pulled back far enough to study me.
“You didn’t finish.”
“No.”
“Do you need to?”
“No.”
“That is suspicious.”
“I’m an adult. I’ll survive.”
“A very hard adult.”
I laughed.
“I can deal with it later.”
His hand moved between us.
