Chapter 1 #18
"Subtle entrance, Weston," I say, biting back a grin. He looks like a kid who's just crossed a tightrope without falling. He scoops up Lulu. "I did it," he announces. "I broke in!"
I grin from where I'm stretched across my bed.
"Congratulations, lovely felon." I reach up and kiss him on the forehead. "Now hand over my cat." He laughs, clutching Lulu a little tighter. "She came to me willingly, you know. We have a bond now."
"Tch, you're about to make her love you more than she loves me."
"Wouldn't be the first." He smirks as he hands her over. I take Lulu in my arms, but my eyes stay on him. Bad idea.
Because now my brain is like, oh cool, so we're parents and the cat is our child.
This is humiliating. He's staring at her like she's literally his kid. Poor thing is sitting there stiff like a cucumber, still kind of frozen, like he hasn't fully processed that I actually want him around all the time. It kills me.
He's so fucking adorable. We've had sex more times than I can count and he STILL acts a little shy around me. Which is insane, if you think about it. You're not shy when you're moaning my name with my dick buried inside you, little Weston.
That part you handle just fine. I scratch the back of my neck, glancing at him. "Give me five minutes. I need a quick shower." I smirk. "Unless, of course, you want to join." He tilts his head, pretending to think.
Dramatic as always. "I literally just showered…" He runs a hand through his still-damp hair. "Five minutes before coming here. My hair's still wet."
Then raises an eyebrow. "But damn, suddenly I feel dirty again. Guess I have no choice." He comes closer. "Let's go!"
Unbelievable. Look at this level of enthusiasm just to see me naked. He's not even trying to hide it anymore. At this point just say it, Weston. Just say, "don't bother putting clothes on ever again, Gio, I prefer you without them."
Honestly, I wouldn't mind. He laughs and just throws himself at me. I grab him by the back of his neck and push him forward toward the bathroom.
I swear, I wanna just grab him and squeeze the life out of him when he's this happy. I feel that stupid warmth in my chest because of this evil nerd. Like my heart and my dick finally shake hands and go, "finally, bro, we agree on something."
Of course my brain is standing to the side, watching them, cackling. Because while my heart and my dick are celebrating, my brain is already picturing Rava on a plane.
My brain is that one loser kid in class that yells, "Miss, you forgot to give us homework," right when we're about to leave.
Fuck off. Canada is the homework I'm avoiding.
Because for a second, for a stupid, reckless, fragile second…I think that I'd do literally anything just to have this exact version of the future.
Him. Us. This chaos. Every single day. But I don't say it.
I just kiss his forehead, pull him tighter and walk us both toward the bathroom.
…
Rava steps under the water first. I watch his body in slow motion. My eyes are everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
I can't help it, I swear. I've never seen a body like this before.
It's the combo that fucks me up. That body with that skin.
I know gym guys with big arms, big shoulders, all that shit, but they're so pumped with testosterone and whatever else that their skin is just rashes and red patches and madness.
His skin only has stretch marks. He makes me like them. I never cared about them before. Now they look like art on him.
Little pale lines scratching across his hips and thighs, like somebody designed them on purpose to make him look cooler.
I don't know how he does it. He's got the greatest skin I've ever seen. My dad would be proud of me right now. I'm finally complimenting someone other than myself.
Character development.
First time I wish the place was smaller. Tighter. I need him closer. Our eyes meet immediately. "You're staring," he says with a low voice.
"You're worth staring at." I don't even try to hide it. He bites back a smile, but his cheeks color. Even now. I reach for the body wash, flip the cap open with one hand. "Turn around."
He does, without question. I pour soap onto his sponge. Yeah, he has a sponge in my house now. That's a thing.
Because every time after sex we're both literally dripping, covered in sweat and cum, so we just get in the shower together to wash the sex off.
And then do it again two hours later. Balance.
I start scrubbing his back and his shoulders, pushing my body against his because I'm a menace. How am I supposed to behave when I have this tattoo in front of me?
I feel genuinely blessed. Like, who did I blackmail in a past life to end up being the one who gets to touch this body? He turns his head, and we lock eyes again. His lips are slightly parted. His breath hits my throat.
I trail my hands down to his hips, then up across his chest, pulling him gently back against me. Water slides between us, but we're skin to skin now.
"You do this with all your guests?" he whispers.
"Only the ones I want to ruin."
Not a single soul has entered this shower since I got this house. Ever. But I don't plan on telling him.
He laughs, but his hand finds my jaw, guiding my face until we're nose to nose. We don't kiss yet. His thumb brushes just under my bottom lip. "I like you like this," he says softly. "Warm. Quiet. Less asshole."
"Bold of you to say in my shower." I grin.
He smirks, but doesn't move away. My hands slide to his stomach, his skin twitching under my touch. He leans in like he might kiss me. Instead, he grabs the shampoo bottle and tips it over my head with an evil little smile.
"The fuck?"
"Payback."
Soap runs down my face. I blink it off.
We're laughing, kissing each other's mouths, hands slipping everywhere and nowhere at once.
Every touch is affectionate but charged.
Like we're holding ourselves back without even knowing why.
And somewhere between the laughter and the water and the tangled breath, I forget this is fucking temporary.
…
We step out of the bathroom and everything feels slower now. The air between us is heavy, very charged, like something's about to happen and we both know it.
He's pulling his shirt on and his fingers are fumbling slightly at the hem as he drags it down over his chest. His hair's sticking to his forehead.
He looks so fucking good I almost forget to breathe. I don't even think. I just reach out and grab him by the waist, gently but firmly, and pull him down onto me where I'm already half lying on the bed.
He lets out a small sound as he straddles me.
He ends up sitting on my hips, facing me, and for a second, we just stay like that.
His legs are on either side of me, locking me in like a cage.
If I twitch my dick on purpose, he's gonna feel it.
He's literally sitting on it. I lace my hands behind my head and sink back, getting comfortable with Rava on top of me like this.
We're not doing anything. We're just…sitting here. Watching each other like neither of us knows what we're supposed to do next, but we both feel it. That pressure. That slow, magnetic pull.
His knees press into the bed on either side of me, grounding himself. His hands rest on my chest for balance, and my fingers are already back on his waist.
My favorite place on his body. There's just something about it…
about how my hands fit there, how warm and alive he feels.
I could stay like this forever. Just holding him here.
Letting him breathe on me. Letting him look at me like that.
And then he reaches up. Slowly. His fingers brush against my mouth. No, not my mouth.
My lip ring.
He touches it like he's never seen one before. Just barely, almost not touching it at all, but I feel it everywhere.
"Shit," I whisper, almost under my breath. I grin without even meaning to. "This stupid little piercing has never been worth it until right now."
He smiles and traces it again, gently. I feel my pulse in my jaw. "Did it hurt?"
"Oh, like hell," I mutter. "They had to clamp it, then pierce it through. Whole thing bled like crazy."
His eyes narrow like he's trying to imagine it. "So why'd you do it?"
I tilt my head, still smiling. "Honestly? I thought it looked hot. But now?" I slide my hands slowly up under his shirt, brushing my thumbs across his warm skin. "Now I know I did it just for this moment. So you can touch it like that."
He rolls his eyes, but he's biting back a smile. His thumb grazes the edge of the ring again, slower this time. Less curious, more fond. I exhale through my nose, try to keep it cool, but it's fucking useless.
"Come here," I whisper. He leans down, and starts kissing me slowly.
Super slowly. I kiss him back just as slow, one hand sliding up his back under his shirt, the other still clutching his waist.
When he pulls back, just a little, his lips hover over mine. Our noses touch. His breath is shaky. His voice is quieter than I've ever heard it. "I like it," he says.
"What?"
"The ring," he murmurs. "It's very…you."
I laugh, my forehead resting against his. "Yeah? Good. Because I'm not taking it out anytime soon."
"You better not," he says. "I'm kind of obsessed with it now." "Good," I whisper, then nudge his chin with mine and kiss him again, longer this time, deeper.
This is definitely NOT what we agreed on. Not even fucking close. But we don't seem to care. We melt into it.
This kiss is all the things we don't say. All the feelings neither of us is ready to admit out loud but can't hide when we're like this.
He shifts a little, settling more comfortably over me, and I groan softly against his mouth. "Fuck, I love when you're on top of me," I murmur, not even trying to filter it.
He chuckles against my lips. "Yeah, I noticed. You're hard." And we both laugh. And now I'm scared. Because for a second, it doesn't feel forbidden. It just feels right.