Chapter 15 #5
He shook his head, a decisive movement this time. "I don't want to stop." He fumbled with the hem of my t-shirt, his fingers clumsy but determined. "I want... I want to see you."
My heart hammered against my ribs. I lifted my hips, letting him tug the shirt up and over my head.
He tossed it aside and his gaze mapped my chest, my shoulders, my stomach, like he was memorizing a new language.
His own shirt came off next, and then he was skin-to-skin against me, the friction of his chest against mine sending another jolt straight to my groin.
My fingers found the waistband of his sweats, waiting for his small nod before sliding them down over his hips.
And I stopped breathing.
Burgundy.
Burgundy.
The sweats caught on the rich fabric underneath, and I just stared, my brain short-circuiting completely.
"Jesse," I managed, my voice completely wrecked.
His face went scarlet. "I—" He swallowed hard. "The burgundy ones. I told you I was saving them."
My hands stilled on his hips, thumbs resting just above that band of deep, rich colour. "For what?"
"For this. For you." His voice was barely a whisper. "For when I was ready to be seen."
Something in my chest cracked wide open. I couldn't speak. Couldn't think. Could only stare at him—at Jesse Miller in burgundy underwear he'd chosen, planned, saved for this exact moment.
For me.
My hand moved of its own accord to his hip, thumb tracing the waistband like it was something precious.
"You put these on this morning," I said slowly, the realization hitting me. "Before everything. Before the hearing. Before coming here."
He nodded, silent.
"You were planning this."
"I was hoping, if things went well, if you,” he corrected quietly. "I didn't know if—if you'd still want—"
I kissed him before he could finish that absolutely ridiculous sentence.
Deep and slow and thorough, pouring everything I couldn't say into the press of my mouth against his.
My hand slid beneath the burgundy fabric to grip his hip, skin to skin, and he made a sound that went straight through me as I pulled them down to the floor.
"I have wanted you," I said against his mouth, "every single day since I saw you in that bathroom. Every day, Jesse. Nothing that happened changed that. Nothing could. You're so beautiful," I whispered, meaning it with everything in me.
His breath caught, and I kissed him again, slower this time, my hands mapping skin I’d only imagined touching.
He was trembling beneath me, nervous and wanting and completely perfect.
His hands reached out, following the landscape of my hips until they hooked under my waistband—bold and tentative all at once—pulling my boxers and pants down together.
Cool air kissed my bare skin, but the heat of Jesse's gaze as he took me in was infinitely warmer.
The way his throat worked as he swallowed, the barely-there tremble in his fingers where they brushed my thighs—it undid me more than any practised touch ever could.
"I've got you," I promised against his mouth, smiling when his palm skimmed my bare hip like he couldn't believe he was allowed. "I've got you, Jesse."
When a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face, I cupped his cheek. "Hey. It's just me."
His answering nod was all determination now, no hesitation. I pulled away and reached for the lube slowly, letting him track the movement.
"I want to show you something." I poured a cool pool into my palm, then turned slightly on the bed. "Watch."
I slicked my fingers and began preparing myself, his gaze locked on where my fingers worked. His breathing shifted, matching the rhythm of my hand as I opened myself up—one finger, then two—my quiet gasps filling the space between us.
When I was ready, I settled back against the pillows, my own cock slick and aching. "Come here," I said, my voice rough with a need I wasn't hiding anymore.
He moved over me, his knees bracketing my hips, his erection thick and hard between us. He was shaking again, but this time it was with pure anticipation. I took his cock in my hand—he was hot, firm, and beaded with precum—and he flinched at the contact before melting into my touch.
I guided him to my entrance, his cock slick and heavy in my hand. He hovered above me, shaking with restraint, his expression equal parts nervous and awestruck.
"Look at me," I murmured, squeezing his hip. When his eyes found mine—dark and swimming with hesitant want—I smiled. "This is for you. I want to feel all of you. Now go slow."
He pressed forward with a broken sound, the stretch burning wonderfully as he breached me.
I gasped, my nails digging into his hips—not to stop him, but to anchor us both as that glorious, impossible fullness built between us.
The stretch ached in the best way, my body opening gradually around him until he was seated nearly fully inside me.
We both groaned in unison, the sound punched from our lungs. "Oh God," Jesse rasped, his forehead dropping to mine. I could feel his pulse everywhere—where our chests pressed together, where his cock twitched inside me, where his fingers trembled against my jaw.
I clenched experimentally around him just to hear him whimper. "Still okay?" I asked, grinning when his only response was a feeble nod, his breath coming in ragged bursts against my neck. His hips jerked instinctively, seeking more friction, and Christ, the way he moved inside me—
"Adrian." My name was a prayer on his lips, desperate and reverent.
"I've got you," I murmured, feeling his length deep inside me stretching me in ways I hadn't been stretched before.
Jesse nodded, a droplet of sweat trailing down his temple as he pushed forward again.
The stretch burned beautifully—that delicious ache of nerves awakening as I accommodated his thickness inch by inch.
My back arched involuntarily as he sank deeper, my muscles fluttering around the unfamiliar intrusion.
The stretch burned differently this time—better, sharper—as his pubic bone finally met mine.
"Christ, you're big,” I gasped, rolling my hips experimentally. The motion dragged his cock along that exquisite inner ridge, drawing a punched-out groan from us both. I could feel every vein, every ridge of him inside me.
I let him set the pace at first—those tentative shallow thrusts that quickly grew bolder. His rhythm stuttered when my inner muscles clenched around him, his hips jerking forward with unconscious need.
"Fuck—Adrian—" His voice shattered as I tightened around him deliberately, my heels digging into the small of his back to pull him impossibly deeper. The angle changed and suddenly he was stroking directly over that sweet spot with every thrust.
"Yes—right there, just like that," I urged. His cock dragged over my prostate again, the pleasure so acute my vision whited out for a second. I was distantly aware of the obscene wet sounds our bodies made, of the way his balls slapped against my ass with increasing force.
Jesse's control unraveled beautifully. Each snap of his hips grew more desperate, his breathing ragged against my throat. When he bit down on my shoulder to muffle a particularly broken moan, the sharp burst of pain-pleasure made my cock leak between us.
"Look at me when you come," I demanded, reaching up to lift his face towards mine.
His eyes flew open—that stunning blue gone nearly black with need.
I watched the exact moment his orgasm hit, his entire body locking up as he drove in to the hilt.
The choked-off cry he made was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard.
Heat flooded my insides as his cock pulsed relentlessly, triggering my own climax.
I came untouched, stripes of white painting our stomachs as my passage clenched around him in rhythmic waves.
We collapsed in a tangle of trembling limbs—his softening cock still nestled inside me, both of us grinning like idiots.
He finally stirred as his cock slipped out of me, lifting his head to look at me, his eyes glassy and his face flushed with a beautiful combination of shock and peace.
"Was that...", he started, his voice thick, trailing off as if he didn't have the words.
I smiled, brushing the damp hair off his forehead. "That," I said, my voice full of a feeling too big to name, "was a really fucking good start."
Jesse let out a soft, breathy laugh against my chest, the sound vibrating through me as he burrowed his face into my neck, hiding.
"But just so we're clear," I added, my voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper right by his ear. "We're definitely doing that again. Soon. And often." I kissed his temple.
Jesse's chest still heaved from our first round when I noticed his cock twitch against my thigh—already hardening again despite the sweat cooling on our skin. A giddy laugh bubbled up my throat as I straddled his hips, my sore muscles protesting even as my body thrummed with renewed need.
"Insatiable," I teased, rocking forward to feel him thicken against my cleft. His answering groan vibrated through me, hands flying to my waist like he couldn't decide whether to pull me closer or push me away.
"Adrian, we just—"
"Mmhmm." I swiped two fingers through the mess on his stomach, gathering streaks of our combined release. The scent—musky and intimate—made his nostrils flare. "Lucky for you," I guided his cock with my clean hand, smearing our fluids along his length, "we come pre-lubricated."
His hips jerked when I notched him at my entrance, still loose and slick from earlier.
"Watch," I commanded, lowering myself onto him in one smooth motion.
Heat flared through me—the delicious stretch of being filled again, the wet glide of our earlier passion easing the way.
His head fell back against the pillows with a thud, hands clutching my thighs like he was drowning.
"Fuck. You're still—"
"Perfect?" I rolled my hips, working him deeper, relishing the way his stomach muscles jumped beneath my palms. "I know."
Our second rhythm was slower, more assured.
Jesse's hands mapped my body with newfound confidence—thumbs brushing my nipples, palms skimming my ribs—like he was relearning me in this unhurried light.
When I arched back to change the angle, his choked-off moan told me he'd found a depth that undid him.
"Christ, your face. I could watch it all day," I panted, watching his lips part around silent pleas.
The reverence in his gaze as I rode him—like I was some miracle rather than just a man chasing pleasure—sent me spiralling faster than any touch.
He reached between us to stroke me in time with my movements, his rhythm faltering only when my muscles clenched around him in warning.
"Come for me," I urged, dragging his hand away as I took over. "Let me feel it."
His release hit with a shattered cry, his hips stuttering up into mine as warmth flooded my insides. The pulse of him tipping me over the edge seconds later—my climax ripped from me so violently I nearly toppled forward onto his chest.
Jesse caught me with arms that shouldn't have strength left, rolling us sideways without slipping out.
His nose pressed against my neck, damp lips whispering something that might have been a prayer or my name.
I'd worry about the mess later. For now, the steady thud of his heart against my back was the only benediction I needed.
Thursday morning arrived with the weight of impending doom. This was the day Jesse's parents had originally planned to leave. Would they respect the court order or risk contempt?
I hadn't left Jesse's side since we got home. He was a wreck, convinced his parents would just take him anyway.
"A court order won't stop them," he said, staring out the window. "They think they're doing God's work. Man's law doesn't apply."
Hours passed in tense waiting. Elijah kept watch at the windows. Phoenix monitored social media for any information about the Miller family. Nothing happened.
By evening, we were starting to think maybe we'd actually won. Maybe the order had worked. Jesse was finally relaxing slightly, even managed to eat some of Diana's soup.
At 9 PM, my phone rang. Unknown number.
"You think you've won."
David Miller's voice made my blood freeze. "Mr. Miller, you're violating the court order by—"
"I don't care about your court order. God's law supersedes man's law." His voice was calm, which somehow made it more terrifying. "Jesse is sick. He needs treatment. And he's going to get it. With or without your permission. With or without a judge's blessing."
"If you take him, you'll go to jail."
He laughed—actually laughed. "Martyrdom for God's cause is an honour. My son is going to be healed. Count on it."
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone, ice forming in my stomach. Jesse had heard my side of the conversation. He was staring at me with wide, terrified eyes.
"What did he say?"
I couldn't lie to him. "That they're not giving up."
Jesse curled into himself on the couch. "I should have known. I should have fucking known they wouldn't stop."
"Hey." I sat beside him, pulled him close. "We're not giving up either. Whatever they're planning, we'll be ready. You’re not going anywhere.”
But lying in bed that night, Jesse finally asleep against my chest, I wondered if we really could be ready. How do you fight people who think God is on their side?