“Color?”
“Green.”
I reached for the lubricant.
The first touches stayed outside.
Slow circles.
Pressure only when his body relaxed enough to welcome it.
Noah drew deep, deliberate breaths.
I entered him with one finger and stopped.
He held my wrist.
Not to remove my hand.
To keep the contact anchored.
“Good?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Pain?”
“No.”
I waited until his grip softened before moving again.
The motion remained small and patient. I listened to every breath and every change in the muscles along his spine.
Then I added more lubricant.
“Another?” I asked.
Noah swallowed.
“Yes.”
I began gradually.
The moment the second finger entered, his body tightened.
I stopped.
“Amber?”
“Stay.”
I stayed.
His fingers closed harder around my wrist.
“Talk.”
“You’re in our bed.”
