I frown slightly, studying what I can see of his expression in the low light. “I think the words speak for themselves, Kit.”
He goes silent again. But I can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s still thinking, still turning it over in his head. He wants to say more, he’s just too shy, and too uncertain right now to push. I don’t press him. I just shift a little closer on the bed, careful not to touch his ribs, and let the quiet stretch between us.
He keeps shifting. Small movements… adjusting his position, then turning his head, then moving his legs again. Every little fidget feels louder than it should in the quiet room. It’s unsettling me more than I want to admit. I’m not used to caring this much about someone else’s comfort. I’m not used to lying here wondering what the fuck is going through his head.
After the fifth time he fidgets, I exhale sharply through my nose. “Kit.”
He goes still.
I open my eyes; I can see enough of him, lying on his back, tense, staring up at the ceiling like it holds answers.
My voice comes out rough and impatient. “You’ve been restless since we got into bed.Stop.”
I reach out and rest my hand on his stomach, just below his chest, grounding him.
“When I said I love you,” I mutter, the words feeling foreign and heavy on my tongue, “I didn’t say it because I was caught up in the moment and didn’t mean it. I said it because it’s true.”
I pause, jaw tight. I hate how this feels, exposing myself like this. I’m not the type to talk about feelings. I take what I want; I possess and control. But with him…
“I don’t do this shit, Kit. I don’t say things I don’t mean. I’ve killed men for less than the things I feel when I look at you. You’re mine. Not because I own you like some pet. But because the thought of you not being here makes me want to burn everything down. Because when you’re gone, the house feels wrong. Because even when you’re pissing me off, I still want you next to me.”
I squeeze his side lightly, possessive. “So yeah. I love you. And I’m not going to take it back just because it makes you fidget like you’re about to run.”
Kit stays quiet, but I feel the tension in his body ease just a fraction under my hand.
I exhale slowly, voice dropping even lower. “Now stop moving around and go to sleep. I don’t like it when you’re restless. It makes me think you’re still scared of me… and I fucking hate that.”
???
I lie here trying to settle again when Kit suddenly sits up. I sigh, already feeling the irritation of another sleepless night creeping in… until he rips the covers off me in one sharp tug and swings a leg over, straddling my hips. I rub a hand over my face, dragging it down, making sure I’m actually awake.
This is a first. Kit has never been this bold; never taken control like this. It’s a pleasant surprise, but I already know I’m going to be a grumpy bastard in the morning. Still… it’s completely worth it.
I grip his thighs on instinct, voice rough and shocked in the dark. “What are you doing, Christopher?”
His silhouette shrugs above me, then he rolls his hips down, grinding against me slowly. A low groan tears out of my throat, my cock hardening beneath him.
I reach over blindly and smack the lamp on the nightstand. The warm, dim light fills the room just enough to see him,perfect.
Kit looks sinful, flushed cheeks, and messy curls. I grin, dark and hungry, my hands sliding up to grip his waist. I want to kiss him so fucking badly, deep and filthy.
I squeeze his hips instead, voice rough. “You sure about this, baby?”
He doesn’t answer with words. He just rolls his hips again, with a soft, needy sound that shoots straight through me.Fuck it.I sit up slightly, one arm wrapping around his back to keep him steady, and reach over to the nightstand. I grab the bottle of lube, flicking the cap open with my thumb. Kit watches every movement, breathing already shaky.
I coat my fingers generously, then slide my hand between us, reaching into his boxers. I press one slick finger against his hole, rubbing slow circles first, teasing.
“Easy, baby,” I murmur. “Gonna open you up nice and slow.”
Kit whimpers when I push the first finger inside. I work him open carefully, curling my finger, watching his face for any sign of discomfort. When he starts rocking back against my hand, I add a second finger, scissoring gently.
“That’s it,” I growl softly, mesmerised by the way he takes me.
I keep stretching him, slow and filthy, until he’s panting and grinding down on my fingers. Only then do I pull them out.
I hook my fingers into the waistband of Kit’s boxers and slowly drag them down his thighs, just far enough to free his cock and expose his ass. I don’t take them off completely, I like the way they look bunched around his legs, a messy reminder that he’s still half-dressed anddesperate for me. I slick my cock, coating every inch, then line myself up. The blunt head presses against his tight hole, and I push forward with painstaking slowness.
Kit’s breath catches sharply as the head pops inside. I groan deep in my chest at the scorching, vice-like heat that immediately grips me. I pause there, letting him adjust, my hands holding his hips in a firm but careful grip.
