Chapter 30 Théo
He froze.
I watched the words land, watched them short circuit something in his brain. For a moment I thought I’d pushed too far, asked for too much too soon. Was this a step too gay for him? Was he about to bolt the way I always did?
Then he gave his head a little shake, like he was trying to shake his thoughts free.
“I don’t have... condoms. Or lube.”
I almost laughed. Sometimes I couldn’t believe how innocent he was in some ways. “I came prepared.”
I slid off the bed and crossed to the overnight bag I’d left in the corner of the bedroom earlier. My legs were unsteady—his mouth had nearly wrecked me—but I managed to fish out a box of condoms and a bottle of lube without collapsing.
I held them up, watching his face cycle through surprise, then want, then something that looked almost like nervousness.
“Are you... a bottom?” He asked and then blushed so hard I could see it spread down his neck and across his chest.
God, he was adorable.
“I’m vers,” I said, settling on the edge of the bed. “But since this is your first time, I thought it would be more comfortable for you to fuck me.” I tilted my head, studying him. “Unless you...?”
“Uhm, not tonight.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I am curious though.”
I filed that away for later. “Have you ever had anal... with your ex?”
His blush deepened impossibly. “No.”
“Never? Not even a little—”
“Nothing.” He couldn’t look at me. “Mackenzie wasn’t... we didn’t... it wasn’t like that.”
Ten years with one woman. Vanilla sex only, apparently. And here he was, in bed with me, about to do something he’d never done before.
The level of trust he had in me made me fucking melt. I reached out and took his hand, threading my fingers through his.
“I’ll teach you,” I said. No teasing. He needed steadiness right now, not my sharp edges.
I tugged him toward me, and he came willingly, letting me pull him close until our foreheads were almost touching.
“But first,” I murmured against his jaw, “you need to fucking relax. It’s not rocket science. I promise, with how bad I want you, it won’t take much to get me off.”
He groaned and I felt some of the tension start to leave his shoulders. “You can’t just say things like that.”
“Why not? It’s true.” I nipped at his earlobe, felt him shiver.
“I’ve been thinking about it for ages. You pressing me into the mattress.
Your hands pinning my wrists. The way you’d sound when you finally pushed inside me—that little intake of breath you do when something feels good.
” I rocked my hips up against him. “I want to hear it. I want to be the reason for it.”
“Théo—”
“I want to hear you fall apart,” I breathed against his ear. “I want to be the one who makes you lose control.”
He snapped.
His hands grabbed my face and he kissed me—deep and desperate, all that careful restraint finally crumbling. I parted my lips and he slipped his tongue inside, hungry and searching. When I suckled gently on it, he groaned into my mouth, the sound vibrating through my entire body.
We kissed until I lost track of time. His hands roamed my back, my shoulders, the curve of my spine.
Mine found his chest, his hips, the hard length of him pressing against my thigh.
The frantic energy from before softened into something slower, more deliberate.
I felt the nervousness bleeding out of him, replaced by something steadier. Surer.
He started grinding against me, his movements instinctive now, chasing friction. I rolled my hips to meet him and we both groaned.
“Okay,” I murmured against his mouth. “I think you’re ready.”
“I still don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted.
“I know.” I kissed the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, nipping the stubbled edge. “That’s what makes it hot.”
I pressed the lube and a condom into his hand and lay back against the pillows, spreading my legs in invitation. His eyes tracked down my body, dark and hungry, and I felt myself flush under the attention.
“You’re going to need to prep me first,” I said, keeping my voice steady even though my heart was racing. “Fingers. Start with one.”
He nodded, his jaw set with determination. Like this was a play he needed to learn, a skill he was going to master. It was so very Derek that I almost smiled.
He slicked up his fingers—too much lube but that was better than too little—and settled between my thighs. His big hand stroked my hip, soothing.
“Tell me if I hurt you,” he said.
“You won’t.”
“Tell me anyway.”
I nodded and then his finger was pressing against me, tentative and careful. I forced myself to relax, breathing through the initial resistance, and then he was inside.
“Oh,” he breathed, like he’d discovered something miraculous. “You’re so... warm.”
“That’s generally how bodies work, yes.”
“Shut up.” But he was smiling, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “More?”
“Move it first. In and out. Slow.”
He obeyed, his brow furrowed in concentration. It felt good—not enough but good. A promise of what was coming.
“Curl your finger,” I instructed. “Like you’re beckoning someone. There’s a spot—”
He found it.
“Fuck—” My hips jerked off the bed, a bolt of pleasure shooting up my spine. “There. Right there.”
“Here?” He pressed again, watching my face with rapt attention.
“Yes, God, yes—” I grabbed a fistful of sheets, trying to ground myself. “Another finger. You can add another.”
He did, stretching me slowly, working me open with a patience that was almost maddening. His other hand had found my cock, stroking in a lazy rhythm that kept me hovering on the edge without pushing me over.
“You’re so responsive,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Every time I touch you, you just...”
“I told you.” I was panting now, sweat beading at my temples. “It won’t take much. Not with you.”
He added a third finger and I moaned, loud and unashamed. He scissored them gently, stretching me further, and I could feel myself opening for him, ready and desperate.
“Derek.” I reached for him, pulling him up so I could kiss him. “I’m ready. Please. I need you.”
He fumbled with the condom wrapper, his hands shaking slightly, and I took it from him.
“Let me.”
I tore it open and rolled it onto him, taking the opportunity to stroke him a few times. He groaned, his forehead dropping to my shoulder.
“If you keep doing that, this is going to be over before it starts.”
“We can’t have that.” I slicked him up with more lube and lay back, hooking my legs around his hips. “Go slow. Let me adjust.”
He positioned himself at my entrance, the hot blunt head of his cock pressing against me. Even that was almost too much—he was big, bigger than anyone I’d been with, and my body tensed instinctively.
Our eyes met.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“Derek.” I cupped his face in my hands. “I want this. I want you. Now stop asking and fuck me.”
He pushed in.
Slow, like I’d asked. Inch by inch, letting me feel every bit of him. The stretch burned—it had been a while and he was thick enough that my body had to work to accommodate him. I breathed through it, my hands gripping his shoulders, feeling impossibly full and still wanting more.
“Fuck,” he gasped when he was fully seated. “Fuck, Théo, you feel so fucking good. I need to—”
“I know.” I clenched around him experimentally and he made a broken sound. “Give me a second. Then you can move.”
He held himself still, trembling with the effort.
I could see the strain in his jaw, the way his arms shook where they bracketed my head—those broad shoulders blocking out everything else, making me feel small and surrounded in the best way.
He was barely holding on and he’d only just gotten inside me.
God, I loved that. Loved knowing I could wreck him like this.
“Okay.” I rolled my hips slightly, testing. “Move.”
He pulled out slowly, then pushed back in, and we both groaned. He found a rhythm—tentative at first, then steadier as he gained confidence. Each thrust pressed against that spot inside me, sending sparks cascading through my nervous system.
“Harder,” I urged. “You won’t break me.”
He snapped his hips forward and I cried out, my back arching off the bed. The force of it shifted me up the mattress and he hauled me back down with one hand on my hip like I weighed nothing.
“Like that?” he asked, breathless.
“Yes, fuck, just like that—”
He fucked me harder, deeper, his earlier hesitation completely gone.
Then he grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head with one massive hand and something in my brain short circuited.
My wrists felt delicate in his grip, swallowed up by those big hands, and I felt a rush of heat at how easily he could hold me down.
“Oh fuck—”
“This what you wanted?” His voice was rough, strained. “When you said you wanted to feel it tomorrow?”
“Yes, God, please—”
He held my wrists with one hand, the other finding my cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. I was making sounds I couldn’t control—whimpers and moans and broken fragments of his name.
“You’re so beautiful,” he gasped. “So fucking beautiful like this. Taking me so well.”
“Derek—” I was close, so close, the pleasure coiling tight at the base of my spine.
“I want to feel you come for me, snowdrop.” His voice was wrecked, barely recognizable. “Want to feel you come on my cock.”
I was right there, teetering on the edge, moaning his name shamelessly.
“You feel so good,” he groaned. “Such a good boy. So tight. So perfect. I can’t hold it—”
“Then let go,” I gasped, straining against his grip. “You’re fucking me so good, daddy.”
He made a sound like I’d punched the air out of him, his hips snapping forward hard enough to make the headboard knock against the wall.
“Théo—fuck—I’m gonna—”
“Do it. Come for me.”
He slammed into me one last time and I shattered, coming with a shout, spilling over his fist and onto my stomach. My whole body seized with the force of it and I felt him follow me over the edge—groaning my name, broken and desperate, as he buried himself deep.
We collapsed together, sweaty and breathing hard. His weight pressed me into the mattress—solid and heavy and encompassing—and I should have minded.
I didn’t.
“Will you stay?” He was still inside me which was how I justified my answer.
“Yeah.”