Page 64 of Keep

Breathe.

Because—yeah. The broad back. The shoulders. The way the lamplight caught the muscle along his spine. The trust of this position from a man who’d spent his whole life controlling everything.

Don’t think about that. Just be here.

Chad ran one hand down his spine. Felt the muscles tense, then deliberately release. “If anything doesn’t feel right, you say so. We stop.”

“Okay.”

“Not negotiable.”

“I understand.” Hank turned his head. One eye, dark and steady. “I’m ready.”

Chad slicked his fingers. Started with one. Slow, careful, letting Hank’s body figure out what this was. He watched Hank’s hands—gripping the sheet, then loosening, then gripping again. Coaching himself through it.

“Okay?”

“Different.” A breath. “Good different.”

“More?”

“More.”

Two fingers. Gentle. Hank shifted his weight, pushing back—instinct taking over, which was what Chad wanted. He found the angle, pressed, and Hank jolted.

“Oh!”

“There it is.”

“Again.”

Chad did it again. Watched Hank come undone in increments—the controlled breathing going ragged, the sounds getting lower, less edited. Three fingers. More lube. Hank was trembling, and not from pain.

“Oh, Chad. I need you.”

“Yeah.”

He rolled the condom on. Slicked himself. One hand on Hank’s hip, the head of his cock resting against Hank’s entrance. Not pushing. Just there.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

He pressed in. Slow. Feeling Hank’s body resist, open, resist again. The heat and tightness of it, and underneath that the fact of who this was and what he was being trusted with.

Don’t rush it.

“Breathe,” Chad said. “Push back against me.”

Hank did. Chad slid deeper. Hank made a sound that was mostly air and partly something else entirely.

“You okay?”

“Yes.” Wrecked. “It’s—a lot.”

“We can stop.”

“Don’t you dare.”