When we finally broke apart, we were both panting.
His forehead rested against mine, his eyes squeezed shut like he was trying to block out reality.
“You told me,” he whispered, his voice cracked. “That once I’m better…”
“I remember,” I murmured back.
His eyes opened, and the vulnerability I saw there made my chest ache.
I slid my hand along his jaw, my thumb brushing over his cheekbone.
“Once we head down this road, there’s no going back,” I said softly.
He swallowed hard, his gaze searching mine.
Then he leaned in, his lips brushing mine in a kiss so tender it almost undid me. It was an answer, even if it wasn’t in words.
I took his hand, lacing our fingers together, and led him to the bedroom.
The old wooden floor creaked beneath our feet, but it didn’t matter. Nothing outside that room mattered.
The moment the door closed behind us, I kissed him again, slower this time, savoring the way he melted against me.
His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.
My fingers found the hem of his shirt, and he let me lift it over his head, his skin flushed and warm.
He tugged my shirt off, his touch skimming over my chest, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
I shivered, not from cold, but from the sheer intensity of having him this close. This real.
I couldn’t seem to touch touching him and I didn’t want to stop. We dispensed with the rest of our clothes.
Finally, we fell into the makeshift bed, a mess of scavenged blankets really. Asher looked up at me and I kissed him again, savouring the sweet taste of him.
I left a trail of kisses down his cheek, the column of his throat. The tender spot between his shoulder and neck stirred my hunger, my craving for blood. His blood.
Not yet, I told myself. Right now, I wanted to enjoy Asher slowly.
It wasn’t just about need. It was about connection.
About holding on to something real, something that made the danger and uncertainty bearable.
He moaned when I left more kisses down his collarbones, his chest, his stomach. I pressed a kiss to his erection.
“Gael,” he whispered. “I want you in me.”
“I want the exact same thing,” I said, reaching for my discarded jeans.
I took the lube tucked in my wallet. Asher raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment, didn’t break the moment between us.
I resumed positioned, lifted his legs over my shoulders, while being careful with his still healing injury.
I applied a generous amount of lube into his opening, then slid one, two digits inside him.
Deeming him ready, I entered him. Asher groaned, digging his fingernails into the floorboards.
I went slow and steady, not wishing to hurt him. Finally, I was buried to the hilt. I could hear Asher breathing hard.
