25. Eli
CHAPTER 25
ELI
My body felt heavy—not with exhaustion, but with the unfamiliar weight pressing against my chest. A soft, bluish glow flickered across the room, the only source of light coming from the TV, still on from our late-night gaming. The rest of the apartment was dark, silent except for the low hum of the screen and the rhythmic sound of breathing.
I blinked a few times, adjusting to the dim light, my mind catching up to my surroundings. The couch cushions beneath me were too firm for a bed, but that wasn’t what had me disoriented. It was the warmth seeping into me, the solid weight against my chest, the slow, steady rise and fall that wasn’t mine.
Niall .
The realization settled over me, and with it came an ache I wasn’t sure how to name. His head rested against me, his face half-buried in my shirt. His arm was draped across my waist, and our legs were tangled together in the cramped space. The scent of him—clean soap and something distinctly him —was impossible to ignore.
We must’ve fallen asleep like this, but what made my breath hitch wasn’t the position—it was how comfortable it felt. How natural. Like something I could get used to.
I shifted slightly, and his body moved with mine, pressing closer rather than pulling away. My hand found the small of his back without thinking, and my fingers grazed the fabric of his hoodie. He was warm. Solid. Real .
I let out a slow breath, my mind catching up to the moment.
This was new , but not in a way that made me panic. Not in a way that made me question if I wanted it. We’d already kissed. Already admitted we liked each other. But that had been words and stolen moments—this was something else. This was waking up with him pressed against me, his body curled into mine like he belonged there.
And maybe that was the part that scared me.
Because I had been in relationships before. I knew what it was like to fall, to want, to hope. And I also knew what it was like when someone didn’t want the same things.
My chest tightened as Niall’s words from the night before echoed in my head.
“I want to figure it out. With you. If you’ll let me.”
He wanted to figure things out . Not be with me .
Maybe there wasn’t a difference. Maybe there was.
What if I was just part of his discovery? What if, one day, he figured it out and realized I wasn’t what he wanted?
The thought sent a sharp pang through me, one I wasn’t ready to sit with. Instead, I focused on the warmth of him, on the way his fingers twitched slightly against my waist as he shifted in his sleep.
I wasn’t going to overthink this. Not right now.
For now, I was just going to let myself have this moment.
I took a slow breath, still trying not to wake him. The rise and fall of his chest against mine was slow and steady, a calm rhythm I wanted to let myself sink into. But I couldn’t help the wave of awareness that washed over me. He was here. So close. And this wasn’t just any closeness—it was intimate, new, and felt a little vulnerable.
I shifted slightly, and in doing so, I became even more aware of the pressure of his body against mine. His breath fluttered against my skin, and I couldn’t ignore the way my chest tightened. It wasn’t just the closeness that made me feel this way; it was the realization of what was happening—what was between us.
A few more seconds passed, and Niall’s breathing changed. His chest expanded slightly, and he pulled away from me, just enough so I could sense the tension in his body. Then, barely above a whisper, he murmured, “Eli?”
My arm was slung over his waist, and at some point, his hand had found its way under my shirt, fingers curled against the small of my back. Not intentional exactly—just something that had happened while we slept, our bodies finding the closeness we hadn’t let ourselves have until tonight.
I stayed still, watching him. His face was relaxed, the usual tension in his jaw gone, lips parted slightly as he breathed. He was beautiful like this—unguarded in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.
I barely resisted the urge to brush his hair back. Instead, I trailed my fingers lightly over his side, just enough to feel the warmth of his skin. He stirred, exhaling a deep breath before his lashes fluttered open.
Niall blinked slowly, his breath warm against my collarbone. His gaze was unfocused, still caught somewhere between asleep and awake, but when his eyes landed on mine, something shifted. Awareness. Want. It flickered across his face like a match catching fire.
I barely had time to take a breath before he moved.
His hand slid up my side, gripping the fabric of my shirt like he needed something to hold on to. Then he lifted his head and kissed me.
It wasn’t careful or hesitant—it was hungry, a slow burn that turned to wildfire the second his lips parted against mine. His breath was uneven, and his fingers dug into my ribs as he pressed closer. I opened up for him, meeting the kiss with equal intensity, matching the way he tasted me, like he was trying to memorize every part of this moment.
My heart slammed against my ribs. My pulse roared in my ears.
This was different.
Before, we were testing the waters. But this? This was Niall taking. No second-guessing. No hesitation. Just pure and unfiltered heat poured into me with every press of his mouth.
I cupped the back of his head, threaded my fingers through his hair, and swallowed the quiet sound he made when I deepened the kiss. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest.
I didn’t want him to hold back.
Breaking away just enough to catch my breath, I searched his face, my chest rising and falling like I’d just sprinted across campus.
“Come to my room?” My voice was rough, uneven.
Niall’s eyes darkened.
For a second, he didn’t say anything. His fingers flexed against my waist, his jaw tightening like he was weighing something, battling something. Then, with a gruff little exhale, he muttered, “Yeah. Okay.”
I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. His words shouldn’t have made me feel like I’d won something, but they did.
I didn’t give him time to change his mind. I practically threw myself off the couch, heart hammering as I strode toward my room, half afraid I’d turn around and he wouldn’t be there.
But I heard him behind me. The soft thud of his footsteps.
I barely held back a grin.
Once inside, I pulled my shirt off, then shoved down my jeans, leaving only my boxer briefs. My skin prickled, anticipation buzzing under every inch of me.
I lay back on the bed, my breath still unsteady, and glanced at Niall. He stood just inside the doorway, eyes locked on my chest. The muscle in his jaw ticked, his fingers twitching like he wanted to touch, but wasn’t sure if he should.
I softened. “No pressure,” I said quietly.
Something in him eased at that. And then, finally, he moved further into my room.
He reached for the bottom of his hoodie, yanking it over his head in one quick motion. His shirt followed, then his jeans, until he stood there in nothing but black boxer briefs that clung to him in a way that made my throat go dry.
I swallowed hard, but before I could say anything, he climbed onto the bed, his body heat sinking into the sheets.
I rolled over him, propping myself up on my elbows. “You okay with this?”
Instead of answering, he hooked a hand around the back of my neck and pulled me down, kissing me deeply. Teeth. Tongue. Desperation.
I groaned into his mouth, my body reacting instantly to the way he devoured me.
“Fuck,” I whispered against his lips, barely able to think past the way he was pressing into me, past the way his fingers skimmed down my spine, hesitant but hungry.
He was letting himself want this. Letting himself want me .
And I was going to make sure he never regretted it.
I kissed him again, murmuring against his lips, “You’re so good at this.”
Niall’s breath hitched, his fingers tightening against my back.
For a second, I thought he might deny it, might fall back into whatever usually held him back. But instead, he just looked at me, lips kiss-swollen, eyes dark and hungry, and let the praise settle over him like he needed to hear it.
I pressed my forehead to his, smiling against his mouth.
“Let me take care of you,” I murmured.
And this time, he didn’t hesitate.
With a sudden shift of strength, he flipped us, rolling me onto my back. My breath hitched, my body melting into the mattress as he loomed over me, his knees bracketing my hips.
His eyes roamed my chest like he was seeing me for the first time.
Heat burned in his gaze, his expression unreadable, but the way his lips parted, the way his tongue darted out to wet them—it sent a sharp pulse of anticipation through me.
Then he finally looked up, locking eyes with me, something hesitant but determined flickering in his expression.
“I—” He swallowed, his voice rough, like he had to force the words out. “I love your nipple piercings.”
My stomach clenched.
The admission sent a fresh wave of heat through me, but it was the way he said it—like he wasn’t just talking about the metal but the whole of me—that made my pulse stutter.
I reached for his hand, guiding it to my chest. “Then touch them,” I murmured.
His fingers trembled slightly as they brushed over my chest, grazing my nipple, sending a sharp jolt through me. It was barely a touch, but my breath caught, and my hips shifted beneath him before I could stop myself.
Encouraged, Niall dragged his fingertips across my nipple again, circling the piercing, then flicked the metal, watching for my reaction.
A sharp exhale left my lips. “Fuck, Niall.”
His eyes darkened, even as his fingers ghosted the other one.
A groan tore from my throat, my cock thickening, pressing insistently against the fabric of my briefs. I wasn’t alone—Niall was just as affected, his hardness pressing against me.
“You make me feel so good,” I told him, my voice wrecked.
Niall’s breath stuttered, his grip on my chest tightening slightly. Then, after a beat of hesitation, he bent his head.
The first tentative flick of his tongue sent electricity down my spine.
I gasped, my back arching off the bed.
He pulled back slightly, watching me like he was trying to figure out if it was good or too much.
I fisted the sheets, my thighs tightening around his hips. “Niall?—”
That was all the encouragement he needed.
His mouth sealed around my nipple, tongue swirling, sucking lightly before scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin.
A broken moan escaped me, my cock twitching, a fresh pulse of wetness leaking at the tip. I was completely at his mercy, and he felt it, the way I responded to every lick, every press of his mouth.
My fingers tangled in his hair, my grip tightening as he moved to the other nipple, giving it the same attention, sucking and nipping, his confidence growing with every ragged breath I took.
“Niall—fuck, yes ?—”
His name slipped from my lips, a breathless plea, my body coiling so tight I thought I might come apart from just this.
I could feel him against me, his cock just as hard, just as desperate.
I felt myself teetering on the edge, my body coiled tight, the pleasure threatening to crash over me. I forced myself to breathe, to slow down just enough to check in.
My gaze found Niall’s, and what I saw nearly undid me—Niall’s pupils blown wide, lips parted, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. He looked wrecked in the best way, like he was feeling everything just as intensely as I was.
“How’re you feeling?” I rasped, running a hand up Niall’s side, needing to hear it.
Niall swallowed hard. “Good,” he managed, voice rough.
My heart pounded. “Can I make you come?”
The way Niall sucked in a breath sent a fresh rush of heat through my veins. My fingers curled into the sheets, my body tense beneath his.
Then, barely above a whisper—like the words had to fight their way out—Niall said, “Yes… please.”
That was all I needed.
With a surge of energy, I flipped us, shifting our weight effortlessly despite the twenty-pound difference. I wasn’t a lightweight. And right now, I wasn’t letting anything—not size, not hesitation—keep me from showing Niall exactly how good this could be.
I shoved out of my boxer briefs, not missing the way Niall’s breath hitched.
I grinned. “Can I take yours off?”
Niall hesitated, his body tense beneath mine. It was a small pause, but I didn’t rush him. I waited, watching the flicker of uncertainty in Niall’s expression.
Finally, he nodded.
Eli brushed his lips against Niall’s jaw. “I need your words, baby.”
I heard Niall’s breath hitched in his throat. Then, a beat of silence.
“Yes.” His voice still quiet, but sure.
I hooked my fingers into the waistband and pulled, sliding Niall’s briefs down, baring all of him.
I sucked in a breath.
Niall was beautiful . Long and sleek, his cock curved slightly upward, a neat thatch of dark hair at the base. My mind raced with possibilities… with the thought of my hole stretching wide as Niall sank his cock deep inside me. My mouth watered, yearning to suck his cock, my fingers itching to reach out, to touch , but I forced myself to go slow.
Right now, I just needed to feel him.
I lined our cocks up together and rolled my hips, grinding against Niall, our lengths sliding against each other, slick and hot and perfect .
The sensation was overwhelming—skin to skin, nothing between us
Niall gasped, his fingers gripping my waist, his body arching up.
And I groaned, pressing my forehead against his, trying to ground myself even as pleasure threatened to drag me under.
“You feel so good,” I murmured, voice wrecked.
Niall made a sound—a broken, breathy thing that shot straight through my body.
I wanted to grab Niall’s cock and mine, to take them both in hand. But I held back, waiting , because the last thing I wanted was to rush Niall past what he was ready for.
So instead, I rocked against him, our bodies moving in sync, the friction sending shockwaves through us both.
And from the way Niall’s breath stuttered, the way his hips bucked up desperately, he was just as lost in it as I was.
Our movements grew more frantic, the rhythm unraveling into something desperate and uncontrolled. Hips undulating, bodies slick with sweat, we chased the cresting wave together; the heat coiling tighter, pleasure climbing higher.
And then?—
I gasped, fingers digging into Niall’s hips as I shuddered, my release spilling between us in hot, messy ribbons. A heartbeat later, Niall followed, his breath catching, his whole body going taut beneath me. Our bodies locked together in a perfect, blinding moment of bliss.
The world stilled.
For a long minute, all I could hear was the sound of our ragged breathing, our hearts hammering against sweat-slick skin. I barely had the energy to move, but I forced myself to lift my head, taking in the sight of Niall sprawled beneath me—flushed, wrecked, utterly beautiful .
A deep pink spread across his chest and throat, and his face turned slightly to the side like he was half embarrassed, half dazed. His lashes fluttered, and his lips parted slightly.
I smiled, pressing a lingering kiss to Niall’s temple before flopping onto my back beside him. “That,” I breathed, still trying to pull myself together, “was amazing .”
Niall huffed out a soft laugh, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah.” His voice was hoarse, like he wasn’t used to using it after something like this.
A silence settled between us—not awkward, just… weighted. Full. Something unspoken hovered in the air, thick enough that I could feel it.
Niall shifted slightly, licking his lips before mumbling, “I, um… I’ve never done that before.”
I rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. “What, the grinding? You could’ve fooled me.”
Niall let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “No, I mean… any of it. I’ve never had sex before.” He swallowed, eyes still locked on the ceiling. “I never really thought about having sex, honestly. I was always fine with just… using my hand.” His blush deepened.
My chest squeezed—not with pity, but with something warm and protective. Niall wasn’t ashamed, exactly, but there was hesitation there, like he was waiting for me to make it a thing .
So I didn’t.
“Honestly?” I said, reaching out and trailing a lazy hand over Niall’s chest. “That’s kinda hot.”
Niall’s eyes snapped to mine. “What?”
I shrugged, a teasing grin playing at my lips. “I mean, if you’re happy with your own hand, you must be really good at it.”
Niall groaned, covering his face with his arm. “I regret telling you that.”
I laughed, tugging Niall’s arm down so he could see my face again. “Seriously, though—there’s nothing weird about that. Sex is one of those things that people make a huge deal about, but it’s different for everyone. Some people go after it like a sport. Some wait until they’re in love. Some don’t care about it at all. And some…” I let his fingers brush over Niall’s jaw, my touch light. “Some just need the right person to make them want it.”
Niall studied me, something unreadable in his expression. “I think I might be one of those people.” His voice was quiet. “I never thought about it much before, but with you… it’s different.”
My heart did a slow, steady flip.
“Yeah?” I murmured, his grin softer now.
Niall gave a small nod. Then, hesitantly, “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
Another pause. Then, “What’s sex like for you? I mean… what do you like?”
I blinked, caught off guard—but in the best way. Niall was opening up to me, trusting me with something deeply personal.
A slow smirk curved my lips.
“Oh, babe,” I said, voice warm and teasing, “ that is a very dangerous question.”
Niall roll his eyes, but he seemed deeply intrigued. “Why?”
I leaned in, dropping my voice to a playful whisper. “Because now I get to tell you exactly how I want to ruin you.”
I didn’t miss the way Niall swallowed, the way his pupils dilated just a little more as my words sank in. He was intrigued, maybe even a little nervous, but not in a bad way. In the kind of way that told me he wanted to know. Wanted me to tell him. Maybe even show him.
And fuck if that didn’t do something to me.
I reached out, brushing my knuckles along his jaw, feeling the warmth of his skin, the subtle tremor beneath my fingertips. “You sure you wanna know?” I murmured, letting my voice dip just a little lower, teasing, testing.
Niall exhaled, slow and measured, and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Gotta use your words, baby,” I said, my thumb tracing the curve of his bottom lip. “I like hearing them.”
“Yes,” he said, a little breathless. “Tell me.”
My lips curled, but I kept my touch gentle, kept the teasing edge just soft enough not to overwhelm him. Because this was Niall . My big, broody, quiet Iron Wall of a man who’d spent years keeping himself at a distance from everything, and now he was here, bare and open in every possible way, letting me be the one he trusted with this.
I wasn’t about to fuck that up.
I shifted closer so I could look him deep in the eyes, so he could see me when I spoke. “I like taking my time,” I said, my fingers ghosting down his chest, tracing idle patterns on his skin. “I like teasing, making it last. Getting to the point where you need me to touch you, and then waiting just a little longer.”
I watched his throat work as he swallowed, his breath hitching when I dragged my fingers lower, just barely skimming his stomach before pulling away.
“I like seeing how much you can take,” I continued, my voice softer now, slower, almost a purr. “Figuring out what makes you squirm, what makes you beg .”
Niall’s eyes fluttered for a second, like he was imagining it— really imagining it.
“And I loved ,” I murmured, shifting just a little closer, enough that our lips were almost touching, “watching you come apart under me.”
A sharp breath left him, his hand twitching where it rested at his side, like he wanted to reach for me but wasn’t sure if he should. I almost laughed, because fuck , the way he looked right now—flushed and wanting, wide-eyed and still just a little hesitant—was unfair. Unfair in the best fucking way.
“Eli…” he breathed, like he wasn’t sure if he was asking for something or just saying my name for the hell of it.
“Yeah, baby?” I whispered, my lips barely brushing his. “What do you like?”
Niall blinked, his brows pulling together slightly, like he hadn’t expected the question. Like he wasn’t even sure he had an answer. Then, after a beat, he added, “I like everything we’ve done.”
That hit me somewhere deep. Warm.
I smiled, my hand finally settling on his hip, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles. “That’s a good start,” I murmured. “We’ve got time to figure out the rest.”
His lips parted, his breath coming a little quicker, and I could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding himself so still, like he was waiting for me to make the next move.
And I could . Fuck, I wanted to. Wanted to keep going, to push him just a little further, to see how much he could handle before he fell apart in my hands.
But I also knew that this moment—this quiet, post-sex haze where he was soft and open and letting me see him—was just as important as anything else we could do.
So instead, I leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another to his jaw. “Let me clean us up,” I murmured against his skin, letting my fingers trace gentle patterns on his chest. Then I rose to my feet, went to the bathroom to clean up and then dampened a washcloth with warm water and headed back to my bedroom to clean up my boyfriend.