Chapter Twenty
Finn
Finn’s headache disappeared when he was in Maurice’s arms. Maurice brushed a thumb along Finn’s cheek. “Are you sure you want to spend the night?”
Finn nodded too quickly, the movement almost jerky. His chest tightened at the thought of leaving this room, this warmth, this steadiness. “I want to be with you,” he said, voice low. “We can’t waste time apart.”
The words came out rougher than he meant—too urgent, too revealing.
He tried to swallow it back, but the panic was already rising, a strum beneath his ribs.
Every mile the train traveled pulled him closer to something and farther from something else, and the idea of stepping away from Maurice, even for a night, made his stomach twist.
Maurice’s expression softened. “Sweetie,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from Finn’s forehead, “we’ll talk about all of that when we get to San Francisco.”
Finn nodded again, slower this time, but his fingers curled into Maurice’s shirt again as if he needed the fabric to steady himself.
He didn’t trust his voice. Didn’t trust that if he spoke again, the fear wouldn’t spill out—fear of distance, of losing this, of waking up somewhere without Maurice’s warmth beside him.
So he stayed close, breathing in the quiet between them, hoping Maurice understood everything he couldn’t say out loud.
Finn nodded, but something in his chest stayed tight, like a knot he couldn’t loosen.
Maurice’s presence filled the small cabin—steady, warm, grounding—and Finn’s body reacted before his mind did.
His shoulders dropped a little. His breathing evened out.
The tension behind his ribs eased just enough to make him realize how tightly he’d been holding himself together.
He didn’t want Maurice to see how shaken he still was, but his hands betrayed him—fingers trembling slightly against the blanket, a tiny tremor he couldn’t hide.
Every time the train hit a bump in the tracks, the jolt shot straight through him, sharper than it should’ve been, like his nerves were still wired for danger.
His thoughts kept circling back to the card game.
The thugs. The way his pulse had spiked so fast it drowned out everything else. The way his legs had gone numb, not from running, but from fear.
His parents had been gone for a short time, and he’d already slipped into something he couldn’t claw his way out of alone. The memory pressed against him like an icy hand.
Maurice moved closer, and Finn’s breath hitched. Not out of fear—out of relief he didn’t want to admit. Maurice’s shadow fell across him, and something inside Finn steadied, like his body recognized safety before his brain did. He wasn’t sure what scared him more: the memory of those men,
or the way Maurice’s presence made that memory feel farther away.
Finn’s gaze dropped to Maurice’s hands—broad, sure, capable. He imagined those hands pulling him out of danger, shielding him, grounding him. The thought made his chest tighten in a different way, warm and aching.
He wanted that.
He wanted him.
But wanting meant trusting and trusting meant stepping into something he wasn’t sure he deserved.
A small shiver ran through him, barely noticeable, but Maurice’s eyes caught it anyway.
Finn looked away quickly, afraid that if he held Maurice’s gaze too long, everything he was trying to hide would spill out.
He wasn’t sure he could move. Not because he didn’t want to, but because the idea of stepping away from Maurice’s steadiness made his stomach twist.
He stayed still, breathing slowly, trying to quiet the intrusive thought whispering at the back of his mind: You won’t make it alone. He didn’t say it. He didn’t have to. His body already had.
And Maurice, sitting close enough that his warmth radiated off him, seemed to understand more than Finn could put into words.
Finn’s thoughts were broken by Maurice rubbing Finn’s cock through his slacks, then he slipped his hand inside, and sure enough, Finn’s cock grew into Maurice’s hand. “What a beautiful cock.”
“I want to feel yours inside me,” Finn whispered.
“I know you do. Let me play with you first.”
Maurice yanked Finn’s shirt up over his head. He licked Finn’s nipples and playfully tugged on his small gold rings, leaving his nipples hard.
“I love these nipple rings. So sexy.”
“Your tongue makes me hard.”
Maurice pulled down Finn’s slacks and tossed them on the chair with his shirt. Finn’s cock woke up from Maurice touching his sensitive areas. Finn wanted more, more than his touch.
“Black lace underwear? Wow, you really are so hot.”
“Do you like them?”
“On you I do. You’re full of surprises.”
“I want to please you.”
“You already did the day I first saw you.”
“I want you,” Finn whispered.
“I want you too. Do you want to wash your body for me?” Maurice said.
Finn nodded, fully aware of how sweaty he was after the chaos of the Dance Car. His shirt had clung to his back, and the air in the tiny cabin felt too warm, too close. He followed Maurice into the cramped bathroom, the two of them nearly brushing shoulders in the narrow space.
He turned on the shower, letting the water run until steam fogged the mirror.
When the temperature settled into something warm and steady, he stepped inside the stall.
The water hit his skin in a comforting rush, washing away the heat and noise of the night.
He scrubbed quickly, wanting to rinse off the sweat, the alcohol, the jealousy—everything that had tangled him up.
By the time he finished, the room was thick with steam. He pushed open the shower door, droplets sliding down his arms.
Maurice was already there, waiting with a towel in his hands.
He said nothing at first. He just stepped closer and began drying Finn with slow, careful movements—starting with his shoulders, then his arms, then the back of his neck. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if he were trying to soothe more than just damp skin.
Finn stood still, letting him. Letting the quiet settle between them. Letting Maurice’s warm hands replace the leftover tension in his body.
When Maurice finally finished, he draped the towel around Finn’s waist and gave him a soft, steady look—one that made Finn’s chest tighten in a way the shower never could.
It was simple.
It was quiet.
And it meant everything.
Maurice was the kind of man who could take charge of Finn, something he’d been craving and looking for, for a long time.
Maurice’s domineering presence walled Finn with the caring he desired.
If only they didn’t live so far away from each other.
Finn’s thoughts ran wild. Finn didn’t know Maurice well enough and worried Maurice would abandon him at the end of the trip in San Francisco.
Once he was dry, Maurice glanced over his body, carried him to bed, and placed him on the bedspread, facedown. Then Maurice climbed onto it as well.
“Put the pillow under your stomach so your butt sticks up for me.”
Finn quickly did as he was told, eager to please the fully dressed man between his legs. Maurice kissed the back of Finn’s neck, his tongue playing and tickling, sending chills down Finn’s body. Peppering kisses down his spine, he traveled to his ass and spread Finn’s cheeks ever so tenderly.
“I want you,” he said in a low growl, the sound making Finn’s balls tingle.
He licked along the entrance to the back of his sack and played with Finn’s scrotum, licking and sucking.
He returned to his entrance and dipped his tongue inside.
It felt so good. No one had ever rimmed Finn before.
He’d read about it on the online porn sites, but he’d never experienced it himself.
Maurice’s tongue worked him over like it already knew every weak point, slow at first—almost teasing—then faster, deeper, until Finn couldn’t tell where the heat ended and the rest of him began.
It was wet, relentless, and overwhelming in a way that made his thoughts scatter.
Saliva, warmth, pressure. Too much. Not enough. Never enough.
Finn’s back arched off the bed, a sharp, helpless curve as his body chased the sensation, desperate to meet it, to keep it, to drown in it.
He wanted more of Maurice—God, all of him—right now, later, forever if that was even a thing.
Nothing had ever hit like this. Nothing had ever made him feel like he might actually come undone.
“You taste like sugar, my sweet boy,” Maurice murmured.
The words slid through him just as easily as everything else. Finn moaned, low and rough, his body already ahead of him, his cock hard and jumping against his stomach. Needy. Impatient.
Then Maurice’s fingers—slick, deliberate.
One.
Finn gasped.
Two.
A shudder ripped through him, sharp and electric.
Three.
And there it was—that spot—as if Maurice had a damn map of him, as if he’d studied him for years instead of minutes. No hesitation. No guessing. Just precision.
Finn pushed back against him, chasing it, hungry for it. His breath came out in broken gasps, his hands gripping at nothing, everything, sheets, skin—whatever he could reach.
More.
He needed more.
The word sat right there on his tongue. Fuck me. It burned to be said. But he held it back, biting down hard, letting the tension build instead, tight and coiled in his chest.
Maurice pulled away.
Too soon.
Clothes gone in quick, efficient movements. A condom rolled on. Lube slicked over his length, slow enough this time to make Finn watch—really watch.
God.
Finn’s breath hitched. That cock. His cock.
Maurice glanced up, caught his eye, and winked as if he knew exactly what he was doing.
Finn couldn’t help but grin, wide and a little wrecked already. He was so not ready. And he absolutely couldn’t wait.
“Move to your side,” Maurice ordered.
Finn gladly obeyed, waiting ever so patiently for that huge, gorgeous cock to fill him. It was the way Maurice had seized him, making him complete with all his love, protection, and entitlement. He craved belonging to Maurice in every conceivable way. So much that he wanted to yield to him.
Maurice knelt facing him, grabbed Finn’s cock, and stroked it until it pulsated. Before it could explode, Maurice stopped, instead squeezing Finn’s nipples, which shot a new pleasure-pain through him and ignited his desire.
“I’m going to fuck you hard and make you take all of me. Are you ready for that?”
“Awe… yes.”
Maurice moved behind Finn and wrapped an arm around Finn’s waist. With his other hand, he aimed for his target and shoved his cock inside.
The burn melted Finn’s insides, and his ass throbbed as Maurice slammed in and out, nudging his magical gland.
His cock oozed with precum. Finn bucked his cock, needing more friction.
Maurice immediately saw to his need by grabbing his cock in his hand and stroking it to the same rhythm of his own cock thumping inside him.
The sound of their skin clashing turned Finn on even more.
“Damn, Finn! You’re so hot, even hotter than when you’re dancing, swaying your sexy ass.”
“So, you think I’m a hot dancer?”
“Mmm.” Maurice pumped him harder and faster. “I watched you tonight. I’d say I’m obsessed with you, your body, and your dancing.”
Finn couldn’t form any more words; only faint whimpers left his lips. He was nearing exploding when Maurice released inside the condom. The warmth of his cum ignited Finn into shooting, spurt after spurt.
“Shit! You fucked me so good I think I came harder than I ever did.” Finn collapsed face down on the sheets, panting and still feeling the aftershocks of his orgasm with Maurice resting alongside him.
Maurice turned his head and kissed him hard on the lips.
His tongue entered Finn’s mouth, their kiss completing their intense moments together as one.
“You’re perfect for me, boy.” Maurice pulled away from Finn’s lips. Sweat dripped from his hair down his face, his beautiful, bearded face.
“No one has ever said I was perfect.” Finn pushed his hair away from his eyes.