Chapter 38 Gabe
GABE
I want him.
More than I’ve ever wanted anything.
When we reach the apartment door, I unlock it with trembling fingers. The space feels different tonight—there’s an electric current in the air. Goosebumps erupt over my skin, all the fine hairs standing on end.
Noah steps in after me, brushing a hand along my back as he passes. The simple touch sends a shiver down my spine. I close the door and turn to face him. He’s already watching me, a heated, questioning look in his eyes, like he’s waiting for a sign.
I lean in, and when his lips brush mine, it’s not just a kiss.
It’s a promise. And I let myself answer it with everything I have.
When we eventually pull apart, it’s not by much, our chests stay pressed together, his thumb strokes along my jaw, and for a moment, I think he might say something.
His mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes.
His fingers trail down my neck, and the noise of the world fades until there’s only him—his heartbeat, his warmth, his breath mingling with mine.
“Bed,” I whisper.
“Bed,” he replies.
And then his lips are on me again. My fingers find his jaw, tracing the faint stubble there, the dip of his throat, the steady thrum of his pulse beneath my thumb.
Noah’s hands slide up my sides, rough palms meeting the soft fabric of my shirt. His touch makes me tremble. He’s always been sure of himself, confident—but there’s a tremor in him now that mirrors my own.
We move together without speaking, finding our way in the darkness.
I let him walk me backward until my legs reach the edge of my bed, stopping before we topple.
My whole universe is the warmth of his body pressed against mine and the heat burning within me that won’t stop growing whenever he’s near.
He steps back to look at me—eyes dark, pupils blown wide, and full of something that steals my breath. “Baby,” he groans through a panting breath.
I run my palms over his chest, eyeing the bulge in his jeans. My own cock is painfully hard at his proximity, the feeling of him this close igniting a fire in me. “Yeah, Blue?”
His head falls back, letting out a contented sigh as he drags my hips to meet his. When his eyes return to mine, they’re black, blazing want staring back at me. It makes me struggle to breathe.
He bites his lip, sliding one hand down my front to palm my cock through my pants. I whimper as he feels how hard I am for him.
His eyes search mine. “Do you wanna fuck me?”
The words shock me. My mouth pops open, and I stare at him. His eyes stay on mine.
All I can think about is how it felt to rim him—how he clenched around my fingers when he came. That was only last week. He’s asked me to finger him again since then, and I did while sucking his cock. It was just as hot the second time.
I still can’t believe he wants me to fuck him, but what’s more shocking is how much I want to.
Just as I’m about to agree, my courage wavers. My eyes drop to his chest. I have no idea what I’m doing. What if I do something wrong? What if I hurt him?
“Hey.” Warm fingers tip my chin up so I’m looking at him. “It’s okay if you don’t want that. We don’t ever have to have that kind of sex.”
I know what he’s saying—he doesn’t expect me to bottom for him, and if I don’t want to top him, he’ll accept that too.
“What if I can’t…” I force the words out through an audible swallow. “What if I can’t ever give you that?”
His eyes hold so much understanding. Acceptance of me, exactly how I am.
“Gabe, it’s you I want. I want to watch movies together.
I want you to read to me in bed. I want to hold your hand.
I want to be there for you—to take care of you.
All the sex stuff? That doesn’t really matter.
If you tell me tomorrow you never want that again…
” He shrugs and kisses my cheek sweetly.
“I’ll still be happy just to be with you. ”
I duck my head to hide the tears coming. I’ve already cried enough tonight, but they’re like me and Noah—inevitable.
He wants to give me something this important, something he’s never given anyone before. He trusts me enough to share that.
I bring my eyes back to his. “I want to fuck you, Noah.”
He inhales sharply, then kisses the corner of my mouth, my cheek, the hollow beneath my ear. Each touch more indulgent than the last—a promise written into my skin. When he speaks again, his voice is hoarse against my ear.
“Take my clothes off, baby.”
My hands are shaking. I keep telling myself to breathe normally, but the sound still comes out uneven. Noah stands in front of me, close enough that the warmth of his body seeps through the scant space between us.
I reach for the hem of his top first. My fingers graze his stomach—soft skin, hard muscle—and he exhales shakily, abs flexing under my touch. I look up at him, his eyes hold so many emotions, some I can’t name, but I hope for anyway.
“Go on,” he whispers.
I bunch the fabric in my fists and lift, my knuckles brushing the faint line of hair that disappears beneath his jeans, over his ribs, his chest. The shirt catches on his chin before he takes it from me, pulling it the rest of the way off and tossing it aside.
My fingers drift to the waistband of his jeans next, fumbling with the button. It pops open under my clumsy hands. We exhale at the same time. His zipper lowers in one slow drag, the noise loud between us, and when I brush the base of him through his briefs, his whole body jolts.
“Gabe,” he begs quietly.
I push his jeans and briefs down his hips, watching as the denim slides over his thick thighs, pooling at his feet.
He’s breathtaking. His skin glows in the low light, golden and warm.
I want to touch everywhere, but I don’t move, not until he steps out of the jeans, tosses his socks, and closes the distance between us, totally bared to me.
“Your turn,” he murmurs.
His hands are steadier than mine, but not by much. He starts with my shirt buttons, undoing them one by one. His fingers brush my chest with each pass. By the time he reaches the last one, I’m shaking all over.
He pushes the shirt off my shoulders and lets it fall to the floor. The air hits my skin, cool against how I’m burning. My nipples pebble. His eyes roam over me, tracing every inch like he wants to devour me.
“So beautiful,” he whispers, almost to himself.
Then his hands find my belt. He doesn’t rush—he takes his time, tugging the leather loose with a soft slide.
The sound of the buckle makes my stomach twist with heat.
He unbuttons my pants, lowers the zipper, and drags the fabric down, briefs and all, with careful hands until I’m standing in front of him naked.
He kneels before me, lifts each foot to remove my socks, and the sweetness of it is almost too much for my heart to take.
When he stands, for a heartbeat, we just stare at each other, both of us breathing hard, the air thick between us.
Noah lifts his hand and cups my jaw, thumb brushing over the corner of my mouth. “You really are so beautiful, Gabe. I’ve always thought so,” he says, and I know he’s not just trying to flatter me, he truly means it.
“Always?”
There’s a subtle vulnerability to his smile. “Fifteen,” he whispers.
I tilt my head in confusion, before I can ask what he means, he continues, “You had just given me The Wayfarer’s Star as my birthday present, when I looked at you to say thanks…
” He shakes his head, smiling. “It was your eyes. They looked so green in the light, I thought… wow, they’re so beautiful. Like every part of you.”
With that confession, I’m captured by the blue depths of his eyes.
There’s a longing in the pit of my stomach for what might have been.
It’s outmatched only by the lightness flowing through me at the possibility of what might be.
I don’t know what to do with all the feelings that rush through me, they’re all-consuming, so I lean forward, pressing my forehead against his.
We stand there, two people stripped bare in every possible way, letting the gravity between us pull tighter and tighter until there’s no space left.
His hand slides from my jaw to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair. I can feel his pulse where our chests touch—racing, matching mine.
Two hearts in sync.
Every beat echoes through bone and skin until I can’t tell where I end and he begins, making me feel like we’re one.
“Come here,” he whispers.
It’s ridiculous, because we’re already pressed together, but I understand what he means. So I close the distance in the only way that’s left. I kiss him. The moment our mouths meet, the hesitation breaks. His lips part under mine, a low sound escaping him.
His hands trace up my sides, over my ribs, down my back until he finds the curve of my hips. I can feel his fingertips trembling against me, the same electric tremor running through both of us.
The back of my knees hit the bed, and Noah goes with me, guiding rather than pushing. We fall together, the mattress dipping beneath our combined weight. I end up half on my back, half turned toward him, our legs tangled. He isn’t putting his weight on me, but I feel his presence.
He kisses me deeper, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other splayed over my chest where my heart won’t slow down. I cover his hand with mine, pressing it there firmly—needing him to feel it, needing him to know that it’s for him. It beats for him.
“This okay?” he murmurs against my mouth.
“Yeah,” I breathe.
When he leans in to kiss me again, I meet him halfway, my hands sliding over his shoulders, down his back, savoring the feel of muscle under skin.
When I shift, our cocks brush, and the contact pulls a sharp sound from both of us. It’s nothing more than a tease of friction, but it lights everything up.
Noah’s eyes find mine, dark and heavy. “You sure?” he rasps.
I nod, unable to speak. A voice in the back of my mind tries to tell me I shouldn’t take this from him, that I don’t deserve it.
But then he moves, lying fully on his back, guiding me between his legs.
The sight of him below me—naked, flushed, eyes bright with want but soft with care—hits me like a wave crashing against the shore.
I lower myself, bracing my forearms on either side of his head, his body fitting beneath mine perfectly.
We fit like we’ve done this across lifetimes—like the shape of him has always lived inside me, waiting to be remembered.
I melt into him. It’s as if my heart finally understands what it’s been searching for all along.
Our mouths find each other again. We’re magnetized. His thighs squeeze around mine. My heart starts thundering in my chest at the thought of what we’re about to do. His hands find my face, thumbs sweeping under my eyes.
“Hey,” he whispers, searching my face, seeing me more deeply than anyone ever has. “You don’t have to be nervous. It’s just us, baby.”
“I know,” I manage hoarsely. “I just want it to be good for you.”
He smiles—a stunning, devastating thing. “Everything with us always is.”
I kiss him like I’m trying to tell him everything I can’t say out loud—show him every piece of me that still doubts, still fears, still wants. His hands move down to my back, tracing the shape of my spine, and the sound he makes when I press my cock against his is pure need.
When we break apart, he gives me a devilish grin. “I might have been extremely optimistic.”
My brows furrow, not understanding what he means, until he reaches into my nightstand and retrieves lube and a condom.
The sight makes nervous anticipation shoot through me, but the thought of Noah coming in here earlier to hide them causes me to laugh against his neck.
I don’t realize my hands are shaking so badly until he takes one gently in his and brings it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to my fingertips.
He whispers, “I want you inside me, Gabe.”
I nod, trying to find my voice, but before I can, he rolls his hips up against me—and everything inside me burns bright. Everything narrows to heat and heartbeat and breath.
And that’s where I lose the thread of words entirely.