Chapter 13 #2
I shrugged. “That’s another thing that scares me. I don’t want you to be a drug for me, Atty. I can’t use you to numb myself, because if I do, it just opens the door for everything else.”
“So how do we handle it?” he asked. “Can we?”
I tried for a smile. “Well, I think we’re getting better at the whole talking part.”
That earned a small one from him too.
“Yeah, I think we are,” he agreed, eyes meeting mine.
Then his expression shifted—steady and certain.
That Atty look he got when he was gearing up for something hard.
“I get where you’re coming from. I really do.
I understand why you’ve set these limits, and I think it’s amazing that you’re sticking to them.
Not just with us, but in everything.” He reached for my hand, folding it between both of his.
“But those are for your life. This—us—is ours. And I think we can find a compromise.”
Compromise. That word sounded different coming from him. It didn’t feel like surrender, not the way it used to. It sounded like care. Like he was really seeing me, accepting my boundaries, and still reaching for a way to meet me in the middle.
A flicker of hope sparked somewhere inside me. “I’m listening.”
“I think it’s okay if we sleep over sometimes. And we don’t have to feel guilty about it. We don’t need to count how many times we see each other in a week and stop when we hit a number.”
I nodded, relief washing over me. That actually sounded…easier. More natural. Like breathing room.
“And I think,” he continued, “if we check in with each other first about why we want it, then we should be able to have sex.”
I laughed under my breath. “Atty…” I scrunched my nose.
“We’re turning it into this huge thing, Noah. Like we’re waiting for some milestone where our relationship suddenly becomes worthy of sex. But that’s not how it works. If we both want to be closer—physically—it shouldn’t feel like we’re doing something wrong.”
“I get where you’re coming from—”
“And right now, I’m not scared you’re going to bolt,” he interrupted. “Because we just had this talk, and I know you want to work on this. Whatever happened with your mom today, it’s not steering the ship anymore. I’m not scared.”
“Yeah, but—”
“And you’re not avoiding anything, right?”
“Right—”
“So then it’s okay. We checked. It’s a safe space.”
I bit my lip. “So we just…have sex? Now?”
He smiled and nodded.
“Doesn’t this feel a little clinical to you?”
“Sex doesn’t have to be like the movies. You and I—we don’t need movie sex. We need safe space sex,” he said, way too earnestly.
“Safe space sex. Wow. That sounds incredibly sexy.” Sarcasm dripped from my words.
Atty rolled his eyes, then pulled his shirt off in one smooth motion.
My gaze dropped—trailing down to his navel. “Okay. That’s definitely sexier.”
He laughed and cupped my jaw, eyes gentle. “Do you want this? Don’t think about the worry, the fear. Strip all of it away. Do you want this?”
I did. But fear curled tight in my stomach. What if this ruined everything again? What if this was the beginning of the end? I couldn’t lose him again. I wouldn’t survive it.
His thumb brushed over my cheek. “Safe space, remember?”
But it was him. It was Atty. And maybe I’d been wrong to say he was the only one scared—when it was clearly both of us. Still, if we were meant to hold each other through the fear, then yeah, it felt a little easier.
“Yes,” I said, exhaling hard. “I want to.”
Atty’s lips curved into a smile before he closed the space between us and pressed them to mine. He kissed me softly once, then again, his mouth lingering. My sweatshirt came off in one quick motion, breaking the kiss for only a second before he returned, his tongue swiping gently over my lips.
I crawled backward over the bed as he followed, sinking into the pillows behind me. He let his body drop over mine as we kissed like we had all the time in the world. Each one peeled away another layer of worry. Our shorts were next, tossed aside, leaving us exactly where we’d paused hours earlier.
He rested his forehead against mine, eyes still shut, his breath warm across my lips. “How do you want to do this?”
I frowned. We’d only ever done things one way, so the question caught me off guard. “With you on top?” It came out as a question, though I hadn’t meant it to.
He nodded and kissed my cheek, then the edge of my jaw. “Condoms?”
My hands skimmed over his back, holding him close. “Whatever you want. I’ve been tested recently—negative. So…whatever you want.”
He trailed soft kisses down my neck. Even there, they felt toe-curlingly good. “I’m negative too. But that wasn’t the question. I asked what you wanted.”
I bit the inside of my cheek.
“Tell me.” He nuzzled my jaw, brushing more kisses across my skin.
“Without?”
He nodded and kissed me again.
“One more thing,” he said against my lips.
Atty shifted, leaning on his elbow so he could see me clearly.
“I need you to hear this now—I don’t want you to think it’s because of what we’re about to do.
It’s always been true. Even when I was trying my hardest not to feel it.
And because this thing between us is real, and I’m done living with one foot out the door. ”
Each word sent my heart thudding harder, wild with hope. I knew what was coming, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the weight of it.
His blue eyes locked onto mine, unwavering. “I love you, Noah.”
My eyelids fluttered closed as his forehead pressed to mine. I held on to the moment, desperate to savor it, to not fall apart. Because he fucking loved me. Still. And that was everything.
“I love you,” he whispered again against my cheek.
The first tear slipped out, and there was no stopping the flood that followed. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him, never wanting to let go. My throat felt sealed shut, but in my head, the words kept playing over and over, hoping he could feel them in the way I clung to him.
Thank you.
Thank you for giving me another chance.
Thank you for forgiving me.
Thank you for seeing something I can’t see yet.
Thank you for even looking at me in the first place.
Thank you for loving me.
He held me tightly, just letting it be. Until I could kiss his cheek in return. Until I could loosen my grip, piece by piece, and let us shift into a quiet embrace. Until I could force my throat to work and finally let the words free.
“I love you too. So, so much.”
“I know. Are you okay?”
I nodded, then let out a breath that almost felt like a laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more okay in my life.”
He brushed his thumbs over my cheeks, wiping away the tears, and kissed me again. This time, we didn’t stop. We didn’t come up for air. We just kept kissing, sinking into something we both desperately needed.
At some point, Atty reached for the lube. He stroked my cock slowly at first, then dipped his fingers lower to work me open. Still, the kisses never stopped. If I moaned, it was into his mouth. If I shuddered, it was against him.
“Like this?” he asked finally, three fingers in, both of us panting.
I shook my head, pressing on his shoulders for a bit of space. Then I turned onto my stomach and reached for him. He took my hand instantly, letting me pull him flush against my back. I glanced over my shoulder, searching for his lips, and he met me there.
“Ready?”
“Yeah,” I breathed.
The blunt head of his cock pressed against me—gently at first, then with growing pressure—until it breached the tight ring of muscle and started to ease in.
I sucked in a breath as the sharp burn bloomed, stretching me open around him.
I closed my eyes as he pushed in deeper, inch by inch, until his hips settled flush against mine.
Atty moved his arm, wrapping it around my chest. He anchored his hand on my shoulder, pulling me tighter to him. His other hand rested on my hip, his thumb drawing lazy circles on my skin while he waited—giving me time to adjust.
After a few minutes—and a dozen slow, worshipping kisses to my throat—he started to move. Gentle thrusts, small rolls of his hips that made me feel every inch of him. He didn’t rush. He just stayed close, lips brushing the edge of my jaw as if he couldn’t bear to be anywhere else.
“Is that okay?” His voice was enticingly low.
I could only moan in response. His cock dragged against everything inside me, every nerve ending lit up and begging. Each thrust made it easier—less resistance, more need. The ache turned molten, twisted into pleasure that curled down my spine and settled in my gut.
And when his hand found my cock and started stroking, slow and easy, matching the rhythm of his hips, I couldn’t hold back the broken sound that escaped me.
Fuck, this was so good.
Had I forgotten how good it could feel? Maybe it had never felt like this. My whole body felt open and exposed in the best way, the rhythm of him—pressing in, pulling out, sliding back in again—was everything.
“Atty,” I moaned, breath catching.
His forehead dropped to the side of my face, his lips brushing my cheek as he panted, as if he was trying not to lose control.
“Yes?”
I reached down and covered his hand on my cock—not to take over, just to feel him there, stroking me, holding me.
The bed creaked beneath us with every slow slide of his body.
The smell of sex, sweat, lube, and skin was thick in the air already.
The heat of his body, pressed over mine, surrounded me completely. He felt solid. Protective. Safe.
It felt fucking perfect.
I pushed my hips back into his, guiding him deeper. Atty followed my rhythm instantly, groaning close to my ear. His thrusts grew sharper, more sure. We found it again—that synchronicity we always had. The way our bodies spoke for us when words failed.
Then he whispered, low and filthy and so fucking sweet, “Do you like that, baby?”