I stroke him faster, my thrusts becoming erratic as my own orgasm builds quickly. “Come for me, detka.”
He pulses and twitches in my hand as his release spills over my fingers and onto the bed. His ass clenches and spasms around me. I moan his name repeatedly as my own orgasm hits me minutes later, burying my cock deep inside him as I fill him up.
I collapse onto his back, my breathing shaky as I try to recover. His body is still trembling under mine, his skin slick with sweat. I press a kiss to his shoulder before pulling out slowly, dragging one last whimper from him.
Caiden rolls onto his back, pulling me into him and putting his arm around me. “You came back,” I say again, tracing idle patterns on his chest.
“Yes.”
“For me.”
“That’s what I said,” he whispers. “I left because I had to. I came back because I chose to.”
“Monday is too close,” I say softly, shifting closer and nuzzling into his chest.
“I know, beautiful.”
“What happens after that?”
“Then we keep choosing, as long as we’re allowed.” The fire settles lower, popping softly. Caiden’s arm is still heavy across my back, and I let myself feel it for another few seconds before I tilt my head to look up at him properly.
He’s staring at the ceiling, jaw tight in that way it gets when he’s thinking too hard about something he hasn’t decided how to say yet. “There’s something you’re not asking,” I tell him.
He hums. “I’m thinking about how this works now.”
“I can’t leave,” I say, trying not to sound defensive. “I mean, not without it being noticed. I can’t just visit you in England,” I add. “This isn’t a train ride. It would look... suspicious.”
“I know,” he says in acknowledgement.
I turn my head to look at him, studying his face in the firelight. “Then what exactly do you think this looks like?”
His fingers flex once against my skin as he thinks about his response. “Well, I guess it looks like me coming back,” he says.
“That’s not really a plan,” I say, snorting softly.
“No,” he agrees. “It’s a decision. I decided that I refuse to lose you.”
I push myself up onto one elbow and he meets my eyes. “That’s a pretty speech,” I say in a teasing tone.
“I know,” he replies, grinning.
“So that’s how we do this?” I ask.
“You can’t come to me, I know that.” I nod in agreement. “So,” he continues, “that leaves one option, doesn’t it? Me coming back whenever I can.”
“You come to me, over and over again, like this?”
His mouth curves into a small smirk. “I will, as many times as it takes.”
“You know that means nothing changes on the surface,” I say. “No future plans or guarantees. No ‘see you next month.’”
“I’m not asking for guarantees.”
“Then what are you asking for?”
“Just you.” He shifts closer. “I chose this knowing it’s quiet. I know it’s limited right now, and it might be a while before anything looks different.”
“And you’re telling me,” I say slowly, “that you’d make that choice again?”
