Epilogue
ATLAS
Calvin seems happier since he started work at the clinic half an hour from my house. It’s just a little thing, more concerned with helping people than the money it brings in.
I think there’s something healing in that for him. He’s always been selfless, but the place seems like it’s giving him a chance to put some real good back in the world. I know he feels like he has to do it for his friend.
He’s happier there, and I’m happier with his hours.
No more overnight shifts—he’s home in time for dinner.
By the time I’m finished with my paperwork for the day, he’s coming through the door with a smile on his face and his warm eyes searching me out.
It’s been a month since everything happened, and I feel like he’s finally starting to settle into his new normal.
There are still times when I can see the ache in his eyes, and I know he’s thinking about everything that happened—everything he lost and everything he did…
But I’m doing my best to keep his mind off it.
Thankfully, he seems more than willing to help me with that. Or maybe he wants to make sure my mind is clear too. We’ve both been through so much.
I can tell he’s in the mood to do just that when he comes home with that expression on his face. It’s one I’ve come to know too well… and when he walks up to me with a bag clutched to his chest, I know I’m in for something good.
I still act like nothing is happening—I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips when he pauses in front of me.
“Did you have a good day at work, sweetheart?”
Calvin smiles, and I soak in the sight of it. He’s still so warm—even after everything that happened, the sunlight in his eyes hasn’t faded at all.
“Yeah. We were actually pretty slow today. One of the doctors went home early.” That look comes back to his eyes and he gives a small grin. “He actually left before dry cleaning came through.”
I’m not tracking what he’s hinting at, and when he hands me the bag and arches one brow, I have no idea what to expect when I open it.
White fabric? I tilt my head as I pull it out, but my confusion quickly melts away to warmth and arousal as I realize what it is.
A doctor’s coat.
“Oh?” When I look up, Calvin is biting his lower lip… and I realize he’s not wearing his scrubs—he made a point to change before he came home. “Oh.”
He watches me with anticipatory eyes as I shake the coat out and pull it on. It’s actually a perfect fit, which makes me wonder if he’s been waiting for the perfect opportunity to bring this particular fantasy to life.
I do check to make sure he slid the chain lock on the door—there’s no way I’m going to let anyone walk in on us while this is happening… I want to enjoy it.
Calvin takes a few steps back when I’m dressed up, and with a small, shy smile, he speaks. “Dr. Sinclair, thanks for seeing me.”
Fuck, how many times has he said my last name… how many times did I tell him to call me Atlas?
Right now, I couldn’t imagine anything more perfect than the word Sinclair on his lips.
I step forward, instantly allowing myself to fall into the role that he’s gift-wrapped for me. Calvin steps back until he leans against the kitchen table, tilting his head as I invade his personal space. He lets out a shuddery sigh when I finally stop with our bodies less than an inch apart.
“I’ll always clear my schedule to see you, Mr. Hayes.”
“Call me Calvin,” he breathes, and I nearly break character hearing my own line fed back to me.
“Calvin…” I purr his name out, fascinated with the way color darkens his cheeks even though he’s heard me say his name every day since he moved in. “What seems to be the problem?”
He lowers his gaze, bringing his hand up to his chest. “Rapid heartbeat.”
I can see it, his pulse jumping in his throat. I drop my head so our lips are close enough that I can feel the heat of my breath playing back against my mouth as I speak. “Is that so?”
“Yeah…” He whispers it back, and then shivers as I raise my hand and trail my fingertips along the line of his collarbone, pressing two fingers to the side of his neck. “I… mmm… I think it might be… stress.”
Stress.
Hm.
I could play with that.
I drop my hand from his neck, gently teasing it along the front of the thin shirt he’s wearing so I can feel his nipples harden.
“There’s plenty of methods to help deal with stress, Calvin. Meditation…” I brush my thumb to the side, playing it against his nipple over and over until he lets out a little gasp. “Exercise…” I pinch the tight little nub, and he gasps.
My fingers slide down his sides, dropping to his hips, a little lower… and when I feel something in his pocket and realize instantly what it is, he grins. I pull out a small container of lube—something else he probably stole when he took the jacket I’m wearing.
“Hmmm… you know, I’ve heard of a method that might help alleviate some of your stress, if you’re willing to try some… unorthodox treatment.”
Calvin has to bite back a smile as he nods. “I’m willing to try just about anything, Dr. Sinclair.”
“Well then, why don’t you sit back and let me get to work.
” I don’t give him a chance to move—I wrap my arms around him and lift him onto the table, hooking my fingers through the loose pants he’s wearing and dragging them and his underwear down his hips in a smooth motion that leaves him half nude in front of me.
Fuck—he’s spread out on the table like a goddamn feast. I’m tempted to throw away this whole roleplay we have going so I can spread his legs and just devour him… but…
No. We can get to that. For now, I step between his legs and gently smooth my fingers along his bare skin.
“Gloves, Dr. Sinclair,” Calvin murmurs with hooded eyes, and it takes me a second to realize what he’s saying. I reach into my coat pocket and pull out a pair of black gloves.
Fuck, he really thought this out, didn’t he?
It only takes me a second to pull them on—another to realize that these are higher quality than anything I’ve seen at the clinic when I’ve been there, so Calvin had to have gone out to pick them up specifically for this.
The knowledge that he planned this out so perfectly, that he took time to really think about what he wanted to happen turns me on more than it should.
Calvin is so bold, so sure of himself and his desires.
I’m more than willing to give him exactly what he needs.
I snap the gloves on, appreciating how perfectly they fit.
When I raise one hand and open the packet of lube, drizzling it onto my fingers to make the black a shiny, slick color that catches in the light of the kitchen, Calvin’s breath stutters.
When I drop my hand between his legs and stroke against his hole, he spreads his thighs and his fingers press against the table.
“Mmmfh…” he moans, and I lean forward, slapping my other gloved hand over his mouth as I slide a digit inside him.
“Careful now, Calvin. You don’t want anyone to hear you, do you?”
It doesn’t matter that we’re in our house alone, that there’s no way anyone is going to hear anything. His pupils blow wide as I add a second finger to the first while I keep my other hand over his mouth.
“Can you feel that?” I murmur with a teasing stroke that makes his body shiver.
He’s so tight that I can almost feel the whine he lets out vibrate through his chest. “All you have to do is let go, Calvin. Concentrate on how my fingers feel inside you.” His lids flutter shut like he can’t help but take what I’m saying to heart.
I fuck him in slow, deep thrusts that leave him squirming, and when I start dragging back over his prostate, he trembles.
I keep it up—slow, deep, intentional strokes—until Calvin’s body is slick with sweat and he’s shuddering with every move of my wrist. There’s something to be said for slow fucking, for a build up that leaves an orgasm coming one drop at a time.
I’m careful, backing off, switching from three fingers to two and barely teasing him when it looks like he’s about to come.
He finally lifts his hand, dragging my gloved fingers from his mouth when I pull back and stroke around his rim. His voice is hoarse, shaking, his lashes half wet with tears.
“Fuck, please… please…”
Even though this game is one I could play for hours, the desperation in his voice is too much for me to resist. I slide three fingers back inside him and lean down, pressing my mouth to his. “Let me make you feel better.”
I start finger fucking him in earnest, and it only takes a minute of practiced strokes before he arches up on the table and cries out. His hands scramble, yanking his shirt up so the mess spills against his stomach, and I can’t help myself.
I dip down while stroking him through the trembling aftershocks and run my tongue along the mess, cleaning him greedily while Calvin twitches and whines, his body shivering so hard he’s practically vibrating.
Once he comes down from the orgasm, I take a step back and look at him—his hole is stretched, glistening with lube, gaping from the invasion of my fingers. His cock is still half hard, his stomach is slick with saliva… and his eyes…
Fuck, his eyes are so fucked out, dazed. His lids are heavy as I look at him, my voice husky as I speak. “Does that feel better?”
It takes him a moment to form words, and when he does, he drifts his hand down his stomach, twitching from his own touch.
Calvin trails his fingers along his thigh, spreading his legs on the table so I can see exactly how wet and open he is for me.
“I… mmm… I think I need something deeper, Dr. Sinclair.”
Fuck…
“Fuck.” I echo my thoughts. It only takes a second to unzip my slacks and pull my cock free. I’m so hard it’s almost painful as I squeeze more lube onto my shaft and then line up with him.
“Mmm… just like that. I want it just like that,” he whispers, and I’m helpless to do anything but give him exactly what he’s asking for. No matter what game we’re playing, what role I take… Calvin is always going to be the one in charge, because I’ll give him anything—everything—he wants.
I thrust inside him in one quick, hard movement that makes the table creak, and he arches his back, crying out and slapping the wood.
Once I’m inside him, I know it isn’t going to last long.
He feels too fucking good, and watching how worked up he is, how he already came from just my fingers inside him…
it really is too much. I fuck him hard and fast against the table, my gloved fingers biting into his thighs for a moment before I shift, picking up the lube packet and squirting the rest of it onto my clean palm.
When I wrap my fingers around his cock, I’m not sure if it’s my touch or the new sensation of my hand encased in the slick material, but Calvin gasps and arches.
“Atlas… oh, fuck… I mean… mmm… Dr. Sinclair… I… fuck.” He’s so incoherent, but my breath is coming in rapidfire staccato to match.
Edging him earlier had the same damn impact on me, and now that I’m fucking him, all I can think about is how much I want to bury myself inside him, how much I want to come, to mark him up.
How much I need him.
My hips are snapping hard and fast, and the scrape of the table legs plays duet with the sound of our breathing.
My muscles start to tremble just as Calvin cries out beneath me again, his spent dick still managing to give a few little droplets of cum as he orgasms again.
The feel of his ass clenching hard around me drives me wild.
“Fuck, it’s like you’re trying to suck my cock right in.
Sweetheart… fuck.” I come so hard I nearly black out, pistoning into Calvin with enough desperation that the table jumps half an inch where I’m holding it.
I groan low as I unload inside him, and then fall forward, catching his mouth in a filth kiss while my cock still buried in his ass.
My hips give aborted little thrusts as I chase the last vestiges of pleasure still spilling through me, making my body twitch and tingle.
Calvin’s eyes are so dazed I’m surprised he can speak… but after I pull back from the kiss, he manages. “Mmmm… I think that was just what the doctor ordered.”
I grin against his lips and kiss him again. It takes me a second, but I finally manage to move us from the table to the bedroom, making a mental note that I need to clean things up…
In the morning.
At the moment, all I can do is drape Calvin over my chest, wrapping my arms around him so I can pull him to me for another kiss.
“I love you, sweetheart.” It still feels surreal sometimes, getting to say that to him—knowing that I mean it with my whole heart, that it’s the truest damn thing I’ve ever said.
“I love you too, Atlas.” Maybe it’s just my imagination, but I’m pretty sure I can hear the same soft awe in Calvin’s voice when he speaks.
He’s perfect—we found love in a world that seemed determined to make sure we’d never feel it again, and I know I’ll do whatever it takes to have more moments like this.
More moments of playfulness, of pleasure, of love.
More moments of Calvin filling all the places in my soul that I never thought would feel whole again. I want to keep him close, to keep him mine… now, tomorrow…
Always.
Want Wylder and Mateo’s story? Find them in Always Wanting.