Chapter Seventy-Five
Declan
It’s still dark out when I open my eyes and stretch, reaching for the warm weight of him in my bed.
My hand meets nothing but cold sheets. I blink, confused for a beat, not aware we even fell asleep after coming up to my apartment.
Empty takeout boxes sit on the bedside table, the end credits of the movie Cooper chose moving across the screen.
Then I hear it—the soft sound of strings. A raspy hum that only comes from a voice roughened by hours of use, moaning and gasping and begging for more. It curls around me, low and imperfect and so fucking real.
It’s the first time I’ve heard him play like this in years. Not for anyone else, just here. Just him. And me.
I lie still, letting the melody thread itself into the fabric of my being. My whole body breaks out in goosebumps, the comforter tangled at my waist doing nothing to stop the shiver that rolls through me.
He sits at the edge of my bed, nothing but the lazy drape of a sheet slung low over one thigh. His spine curves gently over the guitar in his lap, the moonlight from the window casting soft lines across his profile, highlighting the controlled movement of his fingers as he coaxes the strings.
His head tips, lashes fanning low as he mouths silent lyrics, completely lost in it, not thinking, just…
feeling it out. And fuck if that doesn’t wreck me a little.
Because this is the boy I fell in love with.
Not Reign. Not the fame or the lights or the stadiums. Him.
The kid who wanted me to listen for hours, playing half-finished songs, who once swore music was stitched into his soul.
Seeing him like this…it hurts. In the best possible way. Because no matter what I’ve said, no matter how hard I’ve tried to draw that line between us—and let’s face it, it wasn’t that hard—I know the truth deep down.
I said I could only be his friend as a way to protect myself, but I don’t know how to live in a world where Cooper isn’t mine.
“That’s beautiful,” I whisper.
Startling, his fingers slip, a discordant note snapping on the strings.
“Shit.” He chuckles, shifting smoothly into something light and playful. “Didn’t mean to wake you. I was just…”
“Inspired?”
His smile is soft, chin tilted downward, and even in the dim light, I can tell he’s blushing. “Yeah.”
Crawling across the bed until I’m behind him, I fold my body around his, bracketing his hips with my legs. My arms circle his waist, chest pressed to his bare spine, my mouth finding the slope of his shoulder, lingering there until he shivers beneath my touch.
“Keep playing,” I murmur.
He hesitates. “It’s not finished.”
“Don’t care. I want to hear it.”
He exhales, but I hear the smile in it as he adjusts the guitar, and the unfinished melody returns.
The body of it settles more firmly against me as he shifts, each note vibrating through both of us, the hum of the strings pulsing above my arms. Leaning back into me, his head rests on my shoulder.
When I kiss the curve of his neck, burying my nose in his hair and breathing him in, he sighs.
Drifting slowly, my hands move along his ribs, learning the rhythm there, feeling every inhale, every heartbeat.
This shouldn’t feel like home. But it does.
“I should’ve fired Liam sooner,” he murmurs, voice tired. “Maybe then it wouldn’t have taken so long to find this again.” He pauses as the final note fades. “To find myself again.”
I kiss his skin. “Keep going.”
He huffs like he wants to argue, but the guitar lifts again, the music filtering through the darkness of my room. His body melts into mine as fragments of the song continue, mere glimpses of something he’s working through, something that’s still growing.
And I get to witness it all.
In my bed, in my arms, music he hasn’t shared with anyone else yet.
The last chord lingers, his head turned down as he watches the strings before I reach around, fingers coming under his chin, tilting his head up. Brushing back his curls, I search his eyes, and the unique colors I’ve always fucking loved shine back at me.
“Dec,” he whispers, barely audible. “Make love to me.”
The guitar still sits in his lap, forgotten, and I gently slide it to the floor. Grabbing him in both hands, I pull him closer, bodies aligning with zero finesse. He straddles my hips, cock hard against my stomach, mine already thickening beneath him.
His smile’s slow, confident, fingers grazing down my chest, nails scraping my skin. I let my own hands explore the sharp lines of his stomach, the cut of his hips, his nipples, pecs.
“You’re shaking,” I murmur, dragging my fingers along his outer thighs.
“Can’t help it,” he says, his voice rough and uneven, like he’s barely holding himself together.
He’s hot and hard against my stomach, pre-cum already beading on the tip of his cock.
His eyelashes flutter, the weight of him on top of me something I never thought I’d get again, not until he stepped back into my bar.
Reaching up, I grip the back of his neck and pull him in, our mouths barely brushing, noses bumping, every breath shared.
“Coop,” I whisper, threading my fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to pull a low sound from the back of his throat.
“I like it when you say my name like that.”
Then he kisses me, slow, deep, unrushed, like we’ve got forever.
His hands start roaming again, every roll of his hips driving me wild.
He shifts slightly, and then grinds against me harder this time, his cock dragging along mine, sending a bolt of pleasure so intense, my hands tighten on his thighs.
“Fuck,” I hiss, biting his lower lip between my teeth.
Panting, he cants his hips faster, moving to kiss along my jaw as I slide my hands up to the globes of his ass, guiding him, but he catches my wrists, pinning them to the bed, and fuck, that look in his eyes…
“Let me,” he breathes, his voice shaky but certain.
I don’t argue. I surrender to it. To him.
His pace is steady, grinding against me like he knows exactly what he’s doing, like he’s wanted this for years and is taking his time to enjoy it.
Every move tears a groan from my throat, pre-cum leaking at every soft pant from his lips.
I test his grip on my wrist—not to break, just to feel him hold me there.
“I thought you wanted me to make love to you?” I tease through clenched teeth, a surge of heat coiling deep in my gut.
“I did,” he whispers, eyes locked on mine. “But I kind of like you at my mercy.”
I snort. “You don’t make this easy, do you?”
His grin is pure sin. “You’ve seen nothing yet.”
He leans down, mouth back on mine, rougher, more demanding this time. Shifting beneath him, the friction’s almost unbearable as he keeps his pace, keeps the control, and I give him everything.
I say his name, a strangled plea, over and over, like it’s the only thing that matters.
Cooper.
Only ever him.
Finally, he lets go of my wrists, and the second I’m free, I grab him, pumping my hips up. His groan vibrates against my lips, fingertips tracing fire across my skin.
“Coop,” I groan, tipping my head back against the pillow as he grips my cock, stroking slowly.
“Still with me?”
“Fucking barely.”
His laugh is breathless against my neck. And then he moves, reaching for the lube. His hand trails down his stomach, while the other pops the cap, pouring a generous amount onto his fingers.
I’m transfixed, helpless to do anything else as he slides his fingers between his thighs, sinking onto them with a gasp so filthy I feel it in my balls.
Head tipping back, lashes fluttering, his lips part on a moan he doesn’t even try to hold back.
And fuck… Watching him like this, fucking himself on his fingers while I lie here, hard and desperate, I’m completely under his spell.
He looks ruined, fucking gorgeous, and he hasn’t even taken me yet.
“I want you,” I say, lust almost choking me. “I want you so fucking much.”
Cooper’s smile is wrecked, pupils blown wide as he drizzles lube over my cock, his slick fingers wrapping around me and stroking from root to tip. My grip digs into his thighs as he pulls free from his body, hand on my chest, his gaze holding mine as he lines himself up and sinks down.
“Fuck.” His mouth drops open on a ragged, broken sound as I stretch him, inch by inch. My hands fly to his hips, not to stop him—never to stop him—just to ground myself as he keeps going, taking everything until he’s seated fully, thighs shaking around me.
He’s tight, so goddamn tight, gripping me like he was made for me.
I bite my lip, fighting every instinct screaming at me to move, to thrust up hard and bury myself deeper.
But I don’t. Because watching him ride the edge like this?
Watching his body work to take me? It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of how good you feel inside me,” he pants as he rolls his hips tentatively. “I could cock warm you all day.”
His ass clenches, and I groan, my willpower draining in an instant. “But not now.”
He’s laughing as I grab his head, the sound swallowed when I crush his lips to mine, the teasing build snapping.
My hips thrust up, hard, and Cooper cries out against my mouth, breaking the kiss with a gasp as he braces himself and starts to find his own rhythm, riding me with a pace that’s pure fucking sin.
“Coop—” I groan, clutching at his hips, shoving down the need to flip him and take over.
But this is his.
Wrapping his legs around me, I sit up, banding my arms across his sweat-slicked back, feeling every flex and pull of muscles as he grinds down. He clings to my shoulders, panting against my jaw, his pace picking up, desperate now.
“Dec,” he groans, voice cracking.
His whole body trembles as he rides me harder, chasing that edge like it’s the only thing worth living for. I reach between us and wrap my hand around his cock, stroking him in sync with every desperate grind of his hips.
“Fuck—” He lets out the most wrecked, beautiful sound I’ve ever heard as his body locks up, thighs shaking, his hole clenching around me. Head thrown back, a moan ripped straight from his chest like it was dragged from his soul, his hot release pulsing between us, coating our stomachs.
It’s wild.
It’s beautiful.
It’s fucking mine.
“You need to come,” he pants, grinding down with one last roll of his hips. “I want you so deep I feel you for days. Fill me. Make me leak with you. I wanna feel it dripping out of—”
“Jesus,” I grind out, smashing my lips to his.
My hips jerk up, one final thrust, coming hard inside him with a growl against his mouth, swallowing his whimpers, tasting sweat, need, and something deeper. Something I never want to give up now that I finally have it.
He sags against me, boneless and spent. We’re a mess of fucked-out, tangled limbs, skin tacky, chests heaving in the dark. Kissing his temple, I hold him close, and he hums into the groove of my shoulder as my fingers slowly trail down the line of his spine.
Gone, I’m completely fucking gone.
Right now, with his heartbeat pressed to mine, it’s the first time in years the future feels like something I might actually want to fight for.