Chapter SEBASTIAN
SEBASTIAN
Remi’s heat engulfs me all at once, knocking the breath from my lungs. His hands grip my hips with intention, anchoring me as he draws me deeper into his mouth. The intensity, the heat, the wetness, the way he takes me in so completely, obliterates everything else.
There’s no world beyond this. Just him, me, and the wildfire consuming us both.
His tongue moves in slow, deliberate strokes from the tip downward, unhurried, like he’s savouring every inch, learning me with the kind of hunger reserved for things you ache to understand. Like I’m a language he’s desperate to master.
And for someone who’s never done this before, he moves with such raw instinct, such certainty, that I’m utterly undone. Every flick of his tongue, every pull of his lips, is perfectly in sync with my breathing, my pulse, the way I’m already starting to come apart beneath him.
The thought that he’s discovering this for the first time, with me, for me, makes my chest ache in ways I don’t have words for.
I reach behind me, fingers scrambling for the wall as Remi methodically, expertly takes me apart. I can’t hold back the moans that escape me, raw, uneven, desperate. The rhythm of his mouth quickens, and his hands keep roaming over my skin like it’s his to claim. Like I’m his to claim.
It drives me wild.
Then he lets out a low hum, and the vibration tears through me like lightning. My knees nearly give out.
I try to warn him, try to say I’m close, but the words dissolve, swallowed by the heat surging through my body. I’m unravelling fast, every nerve lit up, strung tight, and still, he doesn’t let up. He only deepens, hungrier, more certain.
And then I fall.
I cry out his name, broken, breathless, as everything inside me shatters and I tumble helplessly over the edge.
The world goes silent.
When I can finally breathe again, I’m still trembling. My chest rises and falls like I’ve run for miles, and my legs feel useless beneath me. But Remi’s still there, holding me, gently, steadily, as if I’m something delicate. Something that matters.
I thread my fingers through his hair. Not to guide him. Not to urge him on. Just to feel. Just to ground myself in the reality of him. To remind myself that this is real. That he is real. That he’s here, with me.
And I’ve never felt anything like it.