I’m not sure what woke me up at first. I hold my breath, listening for Orok, but there’s no moaning or telltale signs of him having a nightmare.
After a long stretch of stillness, I relax into the bed.
Next to me, Thio’s still asleep, curled toward me, a strip of his face illuminated yellow-white by a streetlight blade that slashes through my curtains.
The previous night tries to come back to me.
But what overwhelms the kick of anxiety, what pushes it down and levels out my heart rate, is Thio.
My lips find his, a brush of contact, something to settle me back into sleep.
But he stirs under me.
His lips rise to mine, the brush turning to a hold, mouths connecting.
He pulls back and his eyes glide open. Dark pupils, sleep-drenched in that shaft of light. We stare at each other, heads nestled close on his pillow; everything is quiet and sleepy and we could slip back into unconsciousness.
I don’t know who moves. It’s a shared collision, we’re both at fault.
We’re kissing again, my hand on his neck, his on my waist, fingers waking up. A pull, blankets coming with me; I roll on top of him, cradled between his legs, rocking against him as our kisses create humidity and we’re still half asleep.
Thio moans, and I curse that we went to bed in boxers.
Another thrust, our hard cocks dragging against each other through two layers of thin fabric, muted but so good. Everything with him is sogood.
My mouth goes to the spot on his collarbone I know makes him shudder, and I work his body into just that. He reaches between us to shove down his boxers; we kick and wriggle until we’re naked and somehow the blanket stays over my shoulders, tenting us in. The smooth, precum-slick glide of our bare dicks against each other has me concaving my body over his and whimpering.
His legs go back around my waist, crossing so his ankles rest in the divots on either side of my tailbone. I find the lube in my nightstand, but as I reach back to prep myself, Thio grabs my hand and guides my fingers to his hole.
The muscles behind my belly button twist viciously. “Thio—”
“Yes,” he says, and it disintegrates into a moan as he pushes one of my fingers around his rim. “Please.”
I take over, no part of me still drowsy. Every nerve is inexhaustibly awake, memorizing the hitch of Thio’s breath and the already blissed-out gloss to his eyes in the darkness. I circle my finger around him once, twice, the lube warming in the friction, each pass making his body do this convulsive twitch that intensifies until he’s begging again.
“Please, Sebastian,” he says and I eat it down, sucking his tongue as I delve my finger into his body.
His whine? Delectable.
I increase to two fingers, three, rocking and smooth, and then—
A crook of my fingers, and Thio’s stomach arches off the bed, head digging back into the pillow and exposing his long, inked neck.
“Fuck me,” he begs, fingers hooked in the ridges of my spine and pulling. “Fuck me, please, baby—”
Always. Anything. Everything.
My fingers curve again and he breaks apart in a keening wail I quickly suck down until we’re back to quiet gasps and slick, moving skin. More lube, my cock aching and rigid, driven to the very edge of insanity by Thio giving me this, coming apart for me.
I notch at his entrance and his eyes crash to mine, half shadowed in the blanket over my shoulders. The air is thick with the smell of sex and the muted notes of Thio’s cologne and as I push inside, neither of us says anything.
My hips hit his ass and I collapse over him, arms coming under his shoulders; I’m as close to him as I can possibly be and it isn’t enough. He grips my cock in the best strangulation, so tight and hot I can feel the muscles in his walls quivering as he adjusts to me; his body is conforming to mine and I want the imprint to last forever.
That possessive drive jerks my hips deeper, back out, deeper again. I need to change him from the inside the way he’s altering me at a cellular level.
No words still. No pleas or warnings or admissions.
Just the air disappearing. Thio sucking on his lower lip. Me finding some kind of ascension between his legs. I don’t know how much time passes, what outer planes might have shifted to make room for our orbit.
