Chapter 6 #2
His skin is pale gold with a dusting of freckles across his shoulders and chest, like someone scattered cinnamon there. I want to count each of them.
“Want to try some horizontal appreciation?” he asks in a husky voice.
“Most definitely.”
He pushes me back on the bed.
“So, is this an improvement on the date?” I ask.
“The date was perfect,” Devin says, crawling over me. “This is…extra credit.”
I groan as he grinds his hips against mine, slow and deliberate, like he’s testing exactly what sounds he can pull out of me as our cocks rub against each other through fabric.
We’re kissing again, and it’s just so…easy. And hot. So, so hot.
There’s a familiarity that I’ve never experienced. Like my body was designed to make him feel pleasure, and his body was made to fit perfectly against mine.
We move together like we’ve practiced this, like we’ve had years to learn each other’s rhythms.
I don’t believe in soulmates. I don’t believe in fate or destiny or any of that nonsense I spend my time debunking.
But I can’t explain this. The way being with him feels less like meeting someone new and more like finally finding someone I’ve been searching for.
“You know,” I gasp as he starts to kiss down my chest, “in engineering, there’s this concept called resonance. It’s when two systems vibrate at the same frequency, amplifying each other’s movement until the whole structure transforms.”
Devin pauses, looking up at me with those hazel eyes. “Are you seriously giving me a physics lesson right now?”
I can’t believe I want to tell him that we feel like two systems in perfect resonance, creating something bigger than ourselves.
But the strangest thing is I feel like he’d somehow understand that this is how my brain processes miracles—through equations and theories, through the language I know best.
“It’s how my brain works,” I admit as he starts to kiss farther down my stomach.
“I love your brain.” He grins up at me wickedly. “But right now, I’m interested in other parts of you.”
Something warm blooms in my chest. Instead of just tolerating my tangents like most people, Devin seems genuinely delighted by them. It reminds me of bantering with SunshineGuy because he’s the only other person who’s made me feel like the trait is a feature rather than a bug.
But I can’t think about SunshineGuy right now. Not with Devin’s mouth moving lower.
He mouths my erection through the fabric, and the barrier between us is suddenly the most offensive piece of cotton in existence. I make an embarrassing whining sound as I lift my hips in what I hope is a subtle hint.
His fingers hook into my waistband, finally, and he moans in appreciation when he pulls my boxers down.
“Oh god, you’re perfect.”
“Not always the reaction my genitalia gets, but I’ll take it.”
He’s laughing as he leans forward. I feel his breath over my cock before he wraps his lips around me, and the combination of sensation and joy is almost too much.
The warmth of his mouth is extraordinary, slick and perfect, his tongue doing things that should require an advanced degree. He bobs his head slowly, hollowing his cheeks, and I hear myself make a sound I’ve never made before.
He stares up at me through those ridiculously long eyelashes, and I have to close my eyes because that visual is going to end this far too quickly.
He uses one hand to reach back to cup my balls, then drifts even farther back to circle one finger teasingly over my entrance.
“Devin,” I manage. “You need to— I need—”
He pulls off with an obscene sound that my brain will be replaying for weeks. “What do you need?”
“You. Here. Now.”
He seems to understand exactly what I mean, sliding back up my body so we can kiss again.
There’s a tangle of limbs and laughter as we bump noses, knock elbows, get the angle wrong, then right, then wrong again.
“So much for resonance,” he teases.
“We just need to”—I shift slightly—“calibrate the system.”
“Oh my god, you’re such a—” The rest of his sentence disappears into a moan as we finally get it right, and my mouth covers his.
This. This is what I’ve always wanted. Someone who laughs when we get it wrong and melts when we get it right. Someone who teases me in a way that feels like affection rather than criticism
I roll us so he’s beneath me, and he moves willingly, pulling me down by the back of my neck to kiss me again. Our bodies align—chest to chest, hips to hips—and we both groan at the friction when I rock against him.
And then we’re moving together, and it actually is like resonance. Each movement amplifying the next, building and building until the whole structure of who I thought I was transforms into something new.
“More,” he breathes, wrapping a leg around my waist to pull me closer.
His hand finds my cock, fingers wrapping around my length with a confidence that makes my breath stutter.
I reach for him, matching his grip, and we start to move.
His thumb swipes over my tip, and I buck into his hand. I twist my wrist on the upstroke, and his eyes flutter closed.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “Just like that.”
We speed up together, the sounds in the room obscene and perfect—slick skin, ragged breathing, the occasional moan from both of us.
His head falls back against the pillow, exposing the long line of his throat. I lean down to kiss it, tasting salt, feeling his pulse pound against my lips.
I want to see his face. I want to watch him fall apart. The intensity of the want startles me. I’ve always preferred to keep some distance, some walls, even in bed.
Especially in bed.
“Look at me,” I say.
He does. Those incredible eyes are dark now, hazy with desire. It’s almost too intimate, watching each other like this, but neither of us looks away.
I’ve never asked for this before. Never wanted to be seen this clearly. But with Devin, I don’t want to hide.
When Devin comes, I watch the way his lips part, the way his whole body tenses and then releases, the way my name falls from his mouth. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
It’s not just the physical release. It’s the look on his face, the trust in it, the way he let me see him completely undone.
And then I’m falling too, my orgasm crashing through me with an intensity that whites out my vision.
For a long moment, there’s nothing but the two of us, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, existing in a space that my usual frameworks can’t quite map. Time feels irrelevant. Measurement feels irrelevant. There’s just him, and me, and the sound of our breathing slowly synchronizing.
Then Devin lets out a shaky laugh.
“That was…”
“Yeah,” I agree because words seem inadequate.
I eventually force myself to move, grabbing a T-shirt from the floor to clean us up. He watches me with a soft expression, and when I settle back beside him, he immediately curls into me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
We lie tangled together, sweat cooling on our skin. The city lights filter through my blinds, painting stripes across Devin’s back.
I’ve looked at those lights a thousand times, but I’ve never watched them illuminate someone else in my bed. The light, the shadow, the curve of his spine all feel like something I want to remember forever.
“Stay,” I say before I can stop myself. It comes out rougher than I intended.
He lifts his head, and his smile is bright. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”
Something tight in my chest loosens.
“Good,” I manage to say.
“We’re going to have so much fun in bed together,” he says, snuggling into me, pressing his nose against my neck.
“Just in bed?” I ask, running my fingers through his thoroughly wrecked hair.
“Everywhere,” he corrects, his voice getting sleepy. “But especially in bed. We should practice. Frequently. For science.”
“For science,” I agree, pulling him even closer.
He yawns against my shoulder. “Hey, Travis?”
“Mm?”
“Your resonance theory?”
“Yeah?”
“Totally accurate.” He kisses my shoulder. “We’re definitely vibrating at the same frequency.”
I laugh, surprised and delighted. “That’s the nerdiest post-sex comment I’ve ever heard.”
“Says the man who brought up engineering concepts during foreplay.”
“Fair point.”
We lie there in comfortable silence for a moment before he speaks again, voice drowsy. “I should probably warn you that I’m a cuddler. Like, aggressive cuddling. You’re going to wake up with me basically on top of you.”
“I think I can handle it,” I say, even though I haven’t shared a bed with anyone in longer than I want to admit.
But with Devin already half-asleep on my chest, his weight warm and perfect, I think about how SunshineGuy told me that even cynics need cuddles.
I knew he was right then.
I just didn’t know it could feel this good.