Chapter 27 Bastian #2
I hold up the food box awkwardly, the gesture feeling increasingly ridiculous as the moment stretches between us. “Mom sent food,” I explain lamely, my words inadequate against the reason I'm actually here for. “For you.”
His laugh carries genuine warmth that makes the tension in my shoulders ease slightly. He leans against the doorframe. “Are you for real?” he asks, a smile playing around the edges of his mouth. “You drove all the way here to give me your mom’s food when I don’t even have a way to heat it up?”
Heat rises in my cheeks, but I maintain eye contact. “May I come in?” The question comes out quieter than intended. “Please?”
He steps back to let me in. I follow him, letting the door close behind me with a soft click.
“So,” he says after a moment of charged silence, watching as I set the food box on a small table near the window. “You drove three hours to deliver cold lasagna. Want to tell me what’s really going on?” His voice carries a mix of amusement and something softer that makes my hands shake slightly.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” I tell him, my words coming out in a rush before I can second-guess them. “The annual tattoo, the grief, any of it. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself anymore.” The admission hangs between us like a breath in winter air, visible and fragile.
His eyes find mine across the room’s limited space, connection crackling between us like lightning before a storm. “Bastian,” he starts, but I step closer before he can continue, needing to finish what I’ve come to say.
“I mean it,” I insist, close enough now to see flecks of green in his blue eyes.
“This thing between us isn’t just a convenient release or temporary comfort.
At least not for me.” My heart pounds so hard I’m sure he must hear it, blood rushing in my ears like ocean waves.
“I love you, Taylen. If you don’t feel the same—”
I have to take a step back when Taylen jumps into my arms, wraps his legs around my waist, and claims my mouth like a starved man.
He tastes like coffee and toothpaste. His fingers cling to my hair so tightly it hurts, but it’s everything I need.
I hold him up with my hands under his thighs and walk us to the bed, sitting on the mattress and taking him down with me.
“Fuck, Tay.” I gasp as I attempt to take a breath.
“Shut up and kiss me, Sebastian. I fucking love you too.”
His fingers trail down my chest before he removes his T-shirt and then opens my shirt so hard that buttons fly all over the room before it joins the growing pile on the floor. I’m glad I grabbed a spare change of clothes.
“Wait,” I manage as he starts working on my belt, my words catching in a throat that feels too tight. “I want… I mean, could we…” The request sticks somewhere between my brain and my mouth, vulnerability making it hard to voice my desire properly.
Taylen’s hands still, his eyes finding mine, waiting patiently. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you inside me,” I finally manage, words barely louder than the shared breaths between us. “Want to feel you. All of you.” The admission makes heat rise in my cheeks, but I maintain eye contact, needing him to understand the depth of trust I’m offering.
His pupils dilate noticeably at my request, his hands tightening slightly where they rest against my skin. “You’re sure?” he asks, voice rougher now. “We don’t have to—”
I silence him with a kiss. His response is immediate and intense, his mouth moving against mine with a passion that makes me shake.
His mouth leaves a trail of fire down my chest as he works his way lower, each kiss feeling like a brand against skin that’s become hypersensitive to his touch. When he reaches the waistband of my jeans, his eyes find mine again, seeking final permission before continuing his exploration.
The first touch of his tongue against my cock draws sounds from my throat I barely recognize as mine, pleasure short-circuiting all of the higher brain functions. His hands hold my hips steady as he takes me deeper.
But it’s when he moves lower still, opening my legs and settling his tongue flat against my hole, that I truly lose the ability to think coherently.
Each lick sends electricity through my nervous system, building pressure that feels like a timer counting down to an explosion.
My hands fist in the sheets as he works me open with his tongue.
“Please,” I manage finally, my words coming out broken and desperate as his tongue continues its sweet torture. “Tay, please. I need you. Need more.” My body trembles on the edge of something big, something that feels like flying and falling all at the same time.
His response is to press deeper, adding a finger alongside his tongue in a way that makes me arch off the bed with a desperate sound. Everything narrows to that single point of contact between us, to the way he’s slowly taking me apart.
The pleasure builds higher, threatening to overwhelm the careful control I’m trying to maintain. But just as I’m about to beg for more, for anything, for everything he’s willing to give me, he pulls back, leaving me gasping and desperate on sheets that feel too hot against oversensitive skin.