Chapter 20 #2
Kenneth: The details will have to wait. Royce is on the way to my place. All I’ll say is this - BEST KISS EVER.
He sends back a string of lewd emojis, following it quickly with a mix of heart eye faces and crying ones. I know that’s his way of saying he’s happy for me. With him handled, I go inside to wait.
My condo is downtown, a modern space with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. I moved here when I took over the team, wanting a place that felt like mine rather than anything my family had a hand in. It's sleek and minimal, all clean lines and neutral colors.
Now, looking around, I wonder if it's too impersonal. Should I have more… stuff? Do I need to put on music? Light candles? What the hell is the protocol here?
I end up pacing, checking my phone every thirty seconds, straightening things that don't need to be straightened. I change my shirt twice before deciding the first one was fine. I'm acting like a teenager before prom and it's ridiculous.
My phone buzzes.
Royce: On my way. Be there in 10.
Ten minutes. I can handle ten minutes.
I pour myself a glass of water, then pour it out because my hands are shaking too much. I sit on the couch, then immediately stand up again. I'm a mess.
The knock on the door comes exactly nine minutes later.
I take a breath, trying to compose myself, then open it.
Royce is standing there, still in their suit from the game, and they look absolutely incredible.
Their hair is slightly mussed, their shirt partially unbuttoned, and when they look at me, their eyes are dark with want—but also a sharper edge.
Like they're still deciding whether to trust this, to trust me.
"Hi," they say, their tone carefully neutral.
"Hi." I step back to let them in, and as they pass me, I catch their scent, which I'm already addicted to.
They walk into the living room, looking around with an appraising eye. "Nice place," they say, but it sounds almost like a criticism. Like they're looking for flaws, for reasons to keep their guard up.
"Thanks." I close the door, then just stand there, suddenly unsure. We were so desperate for each other earlier, but now that we're here, alone, the weight of everything between us feels heavier.
Royce turns to face me, and the look in their eyes is complicated—want mixed with wariness, heat mixed with hardness.
"So," they say. "Are we going to talk about this or…"
"Or?" I prompt when they don't continue.
They cross the space between us in three strides, grabbing the front of my shirt. "Or are we going to stop pretending we came here to talk?"
Before I can respond, their mouth is on mine, and it's different from earlier. This kiss is harder, more aggressive, like they're trying to prove a point. Their teeth catch my bottom lip, and I groan.
"Royce—"
"Shut up," they say against my mouth. Their hands slide under my shirt, nails scraping against my skin hard enough to make me hiss.
"You've been driving me crazy all day with your little games.
Hiding my clothes, changing my passwords, looking at me like—" They break off, kissing me again, bruising.
"Like what?" I manage to gasp out.
"Like you want to devour me." Their hands are working on my belt now, movements rough and impatient. "Like you think you have any right to me after everything."
The words sting, but they're not wrong.
"I don't," I admit. "I don't have any right to you. But I want you anyway. I want you so badly it's killing me."
They pull back enough to look at me, their eyes blazing. "Good. Because I'm still angry with you, Kenneth. For high school, for Clark, for all of it. And I don't know if that anger is ever going to completely go away. You’re too fucking tempting to let it stop me now though."
"I know," I say quietly, ignoring the last part of their words. "I know, and I'm sorry. I'll spend however long it takes making it up to you."
"Damn right you will." They shove me backwards, and I stumble, catching myself against the wall. They follow, pressing their body against mine, one hand coming up to grip my jaw. "Starting right now."
The dominance in their voice, the way they're manhandling me, sends heat straight to my cock. "Royce—"
"Bedroom," they command. "Now."
I go, letting them push me down the hall, their hands never leaving my body. When we reach the bedroom, they shove me onto the bed, and I roll so I land on my back, looking up at them.
They stand there for a moment, silhouetted against the city lights, and there's a predatory glint in their expression. Like they're deciding exactly how they want to take me apart.
"Take off your shirt," they order.
I do, my hands shaking slightly as I unbutton and pull it off. Their eyes track the movement, dark and hungry.
"Pants too."
I hesitate for just a second—not because I don't want this, but because the intensity of their gaze is almost overwhelming. But then they raise an eyebrow, challenging, and I comply.
When I'm down to just my boxers, they finally move closer. But they don't touch me yet, just stand there looking down at me with an expression that's equal parts want and frustration.
"You think you can just kiss me and everything's forgiven?" they ask, their voice low. "That we can just skip past all the history and pretend it doesn't matter?"
"No," I say honestly. "I don't think that at all."
"Good." They climb onto the bed, straddling my hips, and the weight of them against me makes me groan. "Because I'm not going to make this easy for you, Kenneth. You want me? You're going to have to earn it."
They lean down, kissing me hard enough to bruise. Their hips roll against mine and I try to reach for them, to touch them, but they grab my wrists and pin them above my head.
"No," they say firmly. "You don't get to touch yet. Not until I say so."
The command in their voice makes my cock twitch. "Royce, please—"
"Please what?" They bite down on my neck, hard enough to leave a mark. "Please fuck you? Please forgive you? Please pretend like you didn't stand by and watch while your best friend made my life hell?"
Each word is punctuated with a bite, a scratch, and I'm torn between arousal and genuine remorse. "I'm sorry," I gasp out. "God, Royce, I'm so sorry. I was a coward, and I was wrong, and I've regretted it every day since."
They pull back to look at me, and for a moment, their expression softens. But then that harder edge returns. "I know you are. But sorry doesn't change what happened. Sorry doesn't erase the damage."
"I know. So let me make it up to you. Let me show you that I'm different now."
"Oh, I intend to." They release my wrists, sitting up to start unbuttoning their shirt. "But on my terms, Kenneth. We do this my way."
"Yes," I breathe, watching as they reveal more skin. "Whatever you want. However you want it."
They smirk, shrugging out of their shirt. "Good answer."
When they're finally bare above me, I can't help but reach out, my hands spanning their waist. This time they allow it, but when I try to pull them down for a kiss, they resist.
"Impatient," they chide, but there's heat in their voice now.
"You have no idea," I admit. "I've been thinking about this—about you—for years."
"Then you can wait a little longer." They shift off me long enough to remove the rest of their clothes, then mine, until we're both finally naked. The city lights paint patterns across their skin, and they're so beautiful it makes my chest ache.
They settle back over me, skin to skin, and we both groan at the contact. But when I try to roll us over, to take some control, they push me back down.
"No," they say firmly. "I'm in charge here. You don't get to take over just because you're used to being the bigger person."
The words strike deep in me—the acknowledgment that I've spent so much of my life trying to control everything, to be perfect, to live up to impossible standards. But here, now, with Royce, I don't want that. I want to give them everything.
"Okay," I say, relaxing back into the mattress. "Okay, you're in charge. Everything you need is in the drawer over there."
There’s a flicker in their expression—surprise, maybe, or approval. They lean down, kissing me again, but softer this time. Almost tender.
"I'm still angry," they murmur against my lips. "But I also want you. And I hate that I want you."
"I know," I say, running my hands up their back. "Use me. Take what you need. I'm yours, Royce. However you want me."
They pull back to look at me, searching my face. Then they reach over to the nightstand, pulling out supplies, and my heart rate kicks up another notch.
"Tell me if it's too much," they say, and beneath the commanding tone, I hear genuine care.
"I will. But I doubt it will be."
They prepare me slowly, thoroughly, and it's a unique kind of torture—their fingers inside me, stretching and filling, while they watch my reactions with those intense eyes. Every time I get close, they pull back, keeping me on edge.
"Royce, please," I finally beg. "I need—"
"I know what you need." They remove their fingers, taking the time to roll on a condom. Then I feel the blunt pressure of them against me. "But remember, we do this on my terms. My pace."
They push inside slowly, so slowly, and I have to grip the sheets to keep from losing my mind. They feel incredible, perfect, like they were made to fill me.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone inside me. Despite the burn, my body seems to welcome Royce like it knows they’re who we’ve been waiting for. Like it knows my dry spell was because no one could ever feel like this.
When they're fully seated, they pause, both of us breathing hard. The city lights cast shadows across their face, and in this moment, they look almost vulnerable despite being the one in control.
"Okay?" they ask, their voice softer.
"More than okay," I manage. "Perfect. You're perfect."
They start to move, setting a rhythm that's maddeningly slow at first. But as I moan beneath them, as I whisper their name like a prayer, they pick up the pace. Their hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise, and I love it. I love the marks they're leaving on me.
"Kenny," they gasp, and hearing my nickname in that moment feels significant.
"Yes," I breathe. "God, yes, Royce. Take what you want. I'm yours."
They lean down, bracing themselves on their forearms, and the new angle makes us both cry out. Their forehead rests against mine, our breath mingling, and it's intense and intimate and raw.
"I'm still figuring out if I can forgive you," they pant.
"I know."
"But this—" They thrust harder, and I arch beneath them. "This doesn't change what happened."
"I know," I say again. "But it's a start. Let it be a start, Royce."
They capture my mouth in a bruising kiss, and I can feel them trembling. I can feel how close they are. I reach between us, wanting to touch them, and this time they don't stop me.
"Kenny," they moan, and the sound of my name like that pushes me closer to the edge.
"Come with me," I urge. "Let me see you. Let me feel you."
They do a moment later, their whole body tensing as they cry out. The sight and sound and feel of it sends me over too, and I follow them into bliss, their name on my lips.
They collapse against my chest, both of us breathing hard, hearts pounding in sync. For a long moment we just lie there, still connected, neither of us wanting to move.
Finally, they shift, carefully pulling out and rolling to the side. But instead of curling into me, they maintain some distance, and I feel the loss like a physical ache.
"Royce—"
"Don't," they say quietly. "Don't read too much into this. We're not… this doesn't fix everything."
"I know," I say, but I can't help reaching for their hand. They let me take it, which feels like a victory. "But it's more than we had this morning."
They're quiet for a long moment. When they speak again, their voice is small in a way I haven’t heard before. "You really hurt me. Back then. You and Clark. You made me feel worthless."
My chest tightens painfully. "I know. And I will regret that for the rest of my life. I can't change what I did, but I can promise you that I will spend however long it takes proving that I'm not that person anymore."
They turn to look at me, and in the dim light I can see the conflict in their eyes. "I want to believe you. But trust doesn't come easy for me. Not after everything."
"I know. So I'll earn it. Day by day, piece by piece, I'll earn it." I squeeze their hand. "I'm not going anywhere, Royce. I'm in this for however long you'll have me."
They study my face. Whatever they find must satisfy them because they move closer, resting their head on my chest.
"I'm keeping my guard up," they warn. "I'm not going to just hand you my heart on a silver platter."
"I wouldn't expect you to. I'll work for it. You're worth working for." I press a kiss to their hair.
We lie there in silence, the city lights painting patterns across the room. I can feel Royce's breathing evening out, their body relaxing against mine despite their words about maintaining distance.
"Stay," I say quietly. "Stay the night."
They don't answer right away, and I think they might refuse. But then they tighten their grip on my hand.
"Just tonight. Don't get used to it."
"Just tonight," I agree, even though I'm already hoping for a thousand more nights just like this.
We fall asleep like that, tangled together despite the walls still between us. It's messy and complicated and far from resolved.
But it's a start.