Chapter 24 Anthony
ANTHONY
The water had gone lukewarm by the time I reached for the drain. I noticed because Elliot hadn’t.
He was still curled into himself, chin tucked down, shoulders rounded like he was bracing for something that never quite arrived. His fingers traced idle circles on the surface of the bathwater, the movement small and distant—like he’d drifted somewhere I couldn’t see.
I didn’t rush him. I eased myself out first, joints protesting softly, and grabbed a towel from the rack. When I turned back, he was watching me—not anxious, not afraid. Just there. Present in the way he only ever was when he felt safe enough to let his guard drop.
“Hey,” I murmured, keeping my voice low. “I’ve got you, baby boy.”
Something shifted in his face at that. His eyes lifted fully to mine—glass-bright, exhausted, open in a way that felt almost unbearable. Not asking. Not demanding. Just trusting me to follow through.
I wrapped the towel around his shoulders before he could shiver, the soft fabric swallowing him up. I was careful of his arm that had only recently healed. Careful of his ribs. Careful of the places the world had been too rough with.
When I helped him stand, I did it slowly, one hand firm and steady at his back, the other grounding him at the hip. He leaned into me without apology, his forehead dropping briefly against my chest like his body knew exactly where it belonged.
That trust nearly broke me.
I guided him to the bathmat and dried him like it was sacred work.
Hair first, blotting, not rubbing. Then across his shoulders, still tense despite the heat.
Down his back, where the scars weren’t visible like they were on his arms but the weight of everything still lived.
I didn’t rush. I didn’t pull away. I didn’t pretend it was casual.
There was no burden in it. Just care, given freely. The kind that doesn’t ask to be repaid. The kind that stays.
When I pulled one of my clean shirts over his head, his fingers closed gently around my wrist. Not tight. Not urgent. Just enough to stop me.
“Anthony.”
I stilled instantly.
He looked up at me, lips parted like he’d been holding something in his chest too long. His breath was shallow, uneven. Not from fear, but from standing on the edge of wanting something he didn’t know how to ask for safely anymore.
I swallowed.
“What I feel doesn’t make it right,” I said quietly, because if I didn’t say it now, I never would. My voice shook anyway. “But pretending I don’t feel it doesn’t change anything.”
His grip tightened slightly, thumb pressing into the inside of my wrist like he was anchoring himself to the truth of me.
“I love you,” I went on, forcing the words out even as they scraped my ribs raw. “And I want to be the best version of myself I can be for you. You deserve nothing less than that.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was alive. Heavy. Charged with everything we weren’t saying and everything we already knew.
Then he surged forward and kissed me. Not hesitant. Not careful.
It wasn’t clumsy or desperate. It was honest. His mouth warm and familiar, the kiss shaped by loss more than hunger. Like he was trying to remind himself—and me—that this was real. That we were.
I kissed him back before I could stop myself, hands coming up to frame his face, grounding and shaking all at once. It felt like coming home and setting the house on fire in the same breath.
And then—before it could tip, before it could take something we couldn’t give back—I pulled away.
His breath hitched immediately. His eyes burned, hurt flashing sharp and fast before he could hide it. I pressed my forehead to his, closing my eyes like it might help me survive this part.
“If we cross this line again,” I said hoarsely, every word costing me, “we won’t be able to come back.”
His hands slid to my chest, palms flat, steady despite the tremor in his body. He didn’t push. Didn’t beg. He just looked at me. “Then let me be worth the risk,” he whispered.
God help me. I wanted to believe him with everything I had.
“I want you, Anthony,” he said softly, like saying it any louder might break the moment.
“In every way that matters.” His hands trembled where they rested against my chest, but his eyes were steady.
Determined. “If this is the last time I get to be with you like this… I don’t want to hold back.
I don’t want to wonder. I want to feel you for days.
I want your touch to haunt my dreams. Don't send me away without one last memory burned into my soul.”
My heart stuttered painfully. There it was—not desperation, not hunger. Truth.
I’d never been confused about Elliot the way I had been about Natalie. What I felt for him was terrifying in its clarity. He wasn’t a distraction or a replacement or a mistake.
He was it for me. And watching him—watching how hard he’d fought to stay, to heal, to choose life—filled me with a quiet, unfamiliar hope. If he could do the work, maybe I could too. Maybe loving him didn’t have to be something that destroyed us both.
“You have me, baby boy,” I said, the words settling into me like a vow. I cupped his face, my thumbs brushing the damp warmth of his skin. “Everything I have is yours. My heart. My soul. My body.”
The sound he made in response was soft and wrecked, like something inside him finally gave way. A single tear slipped free, tracing the curve of his cheek. I caught it with my thumb before it could fall.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” I murmured. “You know that, right?”
He nodded, lips parted, eyes shining.
Then he moved—not frantic, not rushed—just sure. His delicate freckled arms came around my neck, his legs bracketing my hips as he pressed his hard length against me like his body had already decided what his mind was still catching up to.
The feeling that surged through me was profound. Not urgency—rightness. Like we’d reached the place we’d been circling since the beginning.
I kissed him again, deeper this time, letting it linger. Letting it say what words couldn’t. As I carried him toward the bedroom, his forehead rested against mine, breath warm and steady, trusting me completely.
Carefully, reverently, I laid him down, like this wasn’t just a body beneath my hands but a promise I intended to keep.
Our mouths met again—slow, deliberate—not chasing sensation but connection. Hands explored familiar ground, mapping reassurance instead of taking. Every touch said I’m here. I’m choosing this. I’m choosing you.
It didn't take long before things heated up, and the need to be closer to him became unbearable. At some point the knot in my towel gave way and the moment my shaft brushed against his thigh quicksilver ran through my veins.
Elliot arched his neck baring his throat to me. An invitation I couldn't resist. His skin was warm and delicate as I pulled it between my teeth and sucked. Just hard enough to draw the blood to the surface, so when morning came, he’d be reminded of the night we shared.
“Daddy,” he whimpered.
I laved away the flash of pain with my tongue, relishing in the wave of goosebumps that prickled across his skin. His legs widened making room for me as I settled between them.
Sitting back on my knees, I lifted his right leg, kissed his ankle before working my way down to his knee.
Dragging my teeth as I went. He seemed to like the teasing bite of pain when I chased it away with my lips.
I sucked the sensitive skin behind his knee, then dropped down onto my stomach and continued to tease a path down the inside of his thigh.
My tongue traced the seam of his groin, making his hips flex. His hard length begged for attention when I looked up. Precum dripped from the tip smearing against his stomach as he writhed beneath me.
Elliot’s musky arousal filled my lungs, burying my face in that neat thatch of hair I inhaled deeply. Notes of lavender and honey were still present, but nothing like the need I could feel radiating off him.
Slowly I worked my tee up his body tasting every inch of skin that was revealed to me until I could suck his nipples into my mouth and roll it between my teeth. Elliot sucked in a sharp breath when I bit down on one. Only to repeat it with the other.
I pushed his body to the brink with every little touch. Setting his skin ablaze as my beard scraped over it. He let out a shout when my hips dropped and the head of my cock caught on his.
“Fuck! More,” he cried.
His hands sank into my hair, not sure if he wanted to pull me closer and devour my mouth or push me down. His cock kicked against mine when I chuckled against his ear. Then sucked the lobe into my mouth, rocking my hips in a maddening grind.
“I swear to god…”
He didn’t manage to finish his rant. I wrapped my hand around both our dicks and gave them a languid stroke from base to tip as I braced myself on my elbow beside his head so I could look into his eyes.
His hazel depths were still haunted but with his pupils blown wide, so they almost swallowed the layers of color, I could see the lust that burned in them clearly. Lust that burned for me and me alone.
“I’m going to take my time with you baby boy. I want you to feel everything. But I will not risk hurting you.”
“You won’t.”
I chuckled and sealed my mouth to his tasting his belief on his lips and continued to work us over in my tight grip. When precum seeped from his slit, I caught it with my thumb and dragged it down our lengths slicking my movements.
“I’m going to work you open with my tongue before I finally sink inside you.”
Elliot licked his kiss-swollen lips, the skin around them reddening from my beard. It made a part of me come to life again. A part I feared I’d lost when I left him this morning even after the declarations we’d made. I feared David would’ve turned him against me.