Chapter 27 Sab
Sab
“Sab, do you want me to fuck you?”
Oui. Yes.
So fucking much it’s a roar in my veins, but I don’t know how to say it. How to verbalise the want buried so deep it’s become muscle memory at this point. As if I’m hardwired to want this forever, when every moment I spend with Galen has never left me wanting for anything.
Not even this, when we’ve spent the last year with me on top. Me learning his body. Him teaching me, as he surrendered both to me and himself, a dynamic we both needed for a little while. A long while, even.
But I don’t need it anymore.
We don’t need it.
Shame I can’t find the words to tell him.
English.
French.
I’m so caught up in this moment I’ve rendered myself mute, and it leaves me beyond grateful that Galen reads me so well. That the only time he’s ever missed was when he couldn’t read himself.
He’s not in that place anymore. He chucked his couch in a skip a few months ago, and now he’s right here, gazing down at me with gold flecks in his emerald green eyes, a soft smile blooming on his face.
Galen kisses me again, warm and steady as he shifts closer, his knee between my legs, stretching somewhere for his clothes or mine, and the lube we both habitually keep in our pockets when we’re home alone.
No condoms.
I fuck him bare these days, and my heart starts to hammer as I realise he’s going to do the same to me. That everything I imagined this would be when I met him is about to be left in the dust.
Tension unspools in me, taking my nerves with it, leaving me with anticipation so visceral I can barely catch my breath.
“Shh. Easy.” Galen nuzzles my throat. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”
I know that, and even though it’s been almost a year since he last murmured those words and touched me like this, my body flexes on instinct, fuelled by trust, chasing the wicked sensation he stokes inside me, those skilled fingers as laser-accurate as they always were.
The only thing better than this is more.
So much fucking more.
I tip my head back as Galen moves over me, lips parting on a soundless exhale he steals with his mouth, my hips tilting, a reflex I can’t control, craving the pressure, the rush, I’ve been chasing my whole adult life.
No hesitation. Just surrender.
And I can’t lie, it burns. A searing pain that curls my toes, fists clenched tight, eyes screwed shut as Galen slides deeper and deeper inside me, a string of French curses falling from my lips.
“Putain…je vais crever.”
I force my eyes open, dragging air into my lungs.
Galen hums a quiet chuckle, rubbing his cheek against mine, gripping my thigh, my hip, I’m not fucking sure, while his stronger legs cage me in.
Watching me with those green eyes so alive with heat and patience.
With the love I never thought I’d have, in the house that never felt like home until he lived here too.
The love I fucking know he never knew he wanted.
“Breathe,” he whispers. “It’s going to feel so good, boy. We just need to get past this bit.”
I believe him. I breathe, as he eases out of me a touch and pushes back in with more force, the burn shifting as it softens under the weight of every single thing he’s doing to me. As it gives way to a thick throb of pleasure that makes me moan.
My body stops fighting.
Capitulates.
Maybe I do too.
My pelvis rolls without permission, another rough sound tearing from my chest, and Galen kisses it away. Finds my hand. Laces our fingers together above my head, grounding me as he moves with more intent, as he fucks me with a slow, deliberate rhythm that has me gasping and pushing back for more.
And like that, the pain goes. It dies with the heartache and wreckage we’ve staggered through to get here, with Galen bearing down on me on the living room floor, lights flickering as if they’re as breathless as I am.
He grips my hand tighter and moves with sharper intent, the push and pull of him inside me so electric I’m dizzy to it.
And him? Merde, he’s so fucking beautiful. The way his muscled body flexes as he fucks me. The way his eyes gleam as he tracks every harsh groan spilling from my unhinged mouth. The raw sound that falls from him, low, rough, and so full of fucking need.
“Fuck.” I cling to him, fingers slipping on his damp skin as shocked pleasure crests inside me. “I’m close.”
So fucking close. Everything clenches tight and the world fades. I’m flying and it’s messy, and he’s right there with me.
It’s loud as a shout punches out of him, and the heat of him pulsing inside me sends me tumbling into white-hot bliss.
I come like I’m being exorcised. And I’m not the same person when it’s over. I’m made new, like I was the night I fucked Galen upstairs while snow fell outside.
I’m shaking.
No.
He is. I feel him against my chest, in my arms, as his lungs labour for breath.
I’d give him mine if I could. And I know he’d give it right back.
For me. For Esme.
My hand finds its way to his soft auburn hair, just long enough to rub my fingers through while he sighs into my neck.
“It’s my turn to look after you.”
I kiss his temple. “You do look after me.”
Galen makes a sound that might be a counter-argument, but there’s no weight to it. Nothing but love in his eyes as he raises his head, gaze finding mine, the cheeky grin he wore that night on the road last year firmly in place. “Told you it’d feel good.”
I laugh, beyond words.
He laughs too, still shivering, and after a quick cleanup, that’s us for the longest time.
We don’t mean to fall asleep on the floor, but it happens anyway. It’s dawn when I wake to find he’s got up at some point and covered us with the thick blanket we keep on the couch for Esme’s naps.
He’s still sleeping, and as morning slips through the crack in the curtains, pale winter gold brushing his Irish skin, I don’t move either.
Last night…it was everything. But this is the shit dreams are made of. Just Galen breathing beside me, his hair a copper halo on the couch cushions he tossed on the floor, his hand resting on my chest, his face more peaceful than I think I’ve ever seen it.
With sex and breakfast on my mind, I stroke his knuckles with my thumb, not hiding from the new scars there—the ones he earned a few months ago on a call he still can’t talk about.
Accepting that to love him, I have to love all of him, the way he loves me, even the parts that might take him from me.
Soaking up how unguarded and young he looks right now.
How good he smells. How amazing he feels with his legs so tangled in mine.
God, I love him.
A thought loud enough to wake him up.
Galen stirs, mumbling something into my ribs before he cracks his eyes open. Before he smiles, and the emotion settling in my heart is too big for fucking words. “Hey there.”
I nuzzle his cheek. “Hey yourself.”
“Is it morning?”
“Eh oui. It’s Christmas Eve.”
Galen absorbs that with a slow sigh, stretching his warm body before he’s all mine again, and he shifts closer, tucking his face against my throat, breathing me in like he’s checking I’m real. That I’m here, in this content and happy life he’s helping me build.
It staggers me every day that I got so lucky. That he did too—a reality I can only see because he loves me as much as I love him.
Galen rumbles another sigh. “Feels like we slept for a week.”
“Yeah? You feel good?”
“Course I do.” He leans up and presses a kiss to my jaw. Settles again, drawing lazy patterns on my bare abdomen as the radiators rattle to life and a thud of snow slides from the roof. “I’m with you.”
Not the first time he’s said it, but with this much warmth and peace around us, for a few quiet moments, I’m choked.
Another Christmas on Cosmic Avenue with him. Merde, I’m blessed. More than that, I’m loved. And so is he. “Mon amour…je t’aime tellement.”
He smiles against my skin. “Boy, I love you too.”
THANK YOU so much for reading Christmas On Cosmic Avenue!