Chapter 13 #2
I want to cry. Not from pain. He's so careful. But from the enormity of it. Someone is touching me like I matter, speaking to me like I'm precious, taking their time with my body like it deserves patience.
I've read about this. Hundreds of books, thousands of scenes. No book prepared me for the reality of someone whispering you're doing so well while their fingers are inside you and they mean it.
A third finger. The stretch burns, then eases. He curls his fingers and I cry out, hips rolling down to meet his hand.
"Silas, please, I need —"
"Soon." His voice is strained, his control showing cracks. "You're doing so good, Dev."
"Please. I'm ready."
He withdraws carefully. His hands are shaking slightly. His hands. Shaking. Because of me.
He positions himself. Meets my eyes. "Sure?"
"Please. Want to feel you. All of you."
He pushes in slowly. So slowly.
The fullness is overwhelming. Not painful, not with how carefully he prepared me, but intense. I grip his shoulders and forget to breathe. I see the moment he registers something, a flicker in his eyes, but I pull him closer before his brain can catch up.
"Don't stop," I say. "Please don't stop."
He pushes the rest of the way in. We both groan.
"Okay?" He stays perfectly still.
"Perfect. You're perfect. So full —"
He starts to move. Slow, careful rocks. Every movement sends sensation through me, not just physical but emotional, the intimacy of having someone this close who you chose, who you wanted, who says your name like it's holy.
"More," I beg. "Please, Silas."
He pulls out further, pushes back in deeper. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. The rhythm builds, still slow but purposeful. Each thrust hits the spot and I can't control the sounds I'm making.
"Look at you," he breathes. "So beautiful. Taking me so perfectly."
"Harder. Please."
Something shifts in him, the restraint giving way. He pulls almost all the way out, thrusts back in hard. I cry out, nails digging into his shoulders.
"Yes, like that —"
He sets a steady rhythm, deep and purposeful. Each thrust draws sounds from me, gasps, moans, his name. His hand finds mine, pins it to the mattress beside my head, fingers interlaced. Being fucked and held at the same time.
"Close," I gasp. "So close —"
"Not yet." He slows and I whine. "Want to feel you come just from this. Can you do that for me?"
"I don't — I've never —"
"I think you can." He adjusts the angle, hitting my prostate with every thrust now, relentless and precise. "You're so sensitive. So responsive."
The pressure builds, different from before, deeper, something that starts at the base of my spine and radiates outward.
"Oh god," I breathe. "Oh fuck, Silas, I think — I'm gonna —"
"Let go. I've got you."
I come untouched, a sound tearing out of me that I've never heard myself make. My whole body arches, clenching around him, and the wave goes on and on while he fucks me through it, his rhythm faltering.
"Fuck, Dev — I'm —"
"Inside," I gasp. "Want to feel you."
He buries himself deep and comes with a groan that vibrates through both of us, his hands tightening around mine. I feel the pulse of him, the warmth, and it's intimate in a way no book prepared me for. Having someone that close. Being chosen that completely.
We lie tangled, breathing. He's still inside me, softening, and neither of us moves. His mouth presses lazy kisses to my shoulder, my neck.
"Holy shit," he says eventually.
"Yeah."
He laughs, shaky and warm. Pulls out carefully, cleans us both up with a tenderness that makes my throat tight.
Then he pulls me against him, my back to his chest, his arm around my waist. His chin rests on the top of my head. I fit against him the way I always fit against him.
"Good?" he asks softly. "I didn't hurt you?"
"No. You didn't hurt me."
"Dev?" His arm tightens. "You okay?"
"I'm perfect."
But I'm not.
I'm lying in the arms of the best person I've ever known, and the lie is sitting in my chest like a coal.
Twice. A while ago.
He believed me. Of course he believed me. I said it calmly, met his eyes, gave him just enough detail. It was a good lie. Efficient. The kind you learn in foster care when caseworkers ask if you're okay.
His hand traces patterns on my stomach. Lazy, affectionate. He thinks I've done this before. He doesn't know that every single second was new, new and overwhelming and more than I could have imagined. I wanted it so much I lied to make sure I could have it.
"You're thinking loud," he says softly.
"My eyebrows again?"
"Can't see your eyebrows from here. But your breathing changed." His mouth presses against my hair. "What's going on in there?"
I could tell him now. In the dark, in the warm. Maybe he'd be okay with it. Maybe the after is different from the before. Maybe now that it's done and I'm clearly fine, he wouldn't spiral.
Or maybe the hurt would be worse. Because I lied. I let him believe I had experience when I had none, and that means he didn't know what he was actually doing. He didn't get to choose with full information, which is exactly the thing he values most. I took his choice away.
Not tonight. I can't ruin tonight. If I tell him now, that becomes the memory. Not the tenderness. The lie.
"I'm just happy," I say. That part is true. "Really, really happy."
He pulls me closer. "Me too."
"Silas?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you. For tonight."
"You don't have to thank me."
"I know. I want to."
He kisses the back of my neck. "Stay tonight?"
"I shouldn't. Tyler will worry."
"Text him."
I find my phone. Text Tyler: Staying out tonight. I'm safe.
WITH BOOK GUY???
Goodnight, Tyler.
USE PROTECTION
Goodnight.
DEVIN I'M SO PROUD OF YOU
I put the phone down. Silas laughs against my neck. He read the screen, and I should be embarrassed but I'm not.
"Goodnight, Dev," he says.
"Goodnight."
I fall asleep in his arms. It's the first time in years, maybe ever, that I've fallen asleep feeling completely safe. Not library-safe. Real safe. The kind where you let go all the way, trust that the person holding you will still be there when you surface.
The lie will still be there too.
Tomorrow I'll figure out how to deserve this.