Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
LUCAS
Alexander’s kiss sinks deep into me, warm, consuming, reverent.
I feel it in my bones, like it’s trying to stitch something back together that’s been broken too long.
He holds me like he means it. Like I’m real.
His scent wraps around me, his arms firm and grounding, and I let him. Dear heavens, I let him.
By the time he pulls away, my lungs are empty. My lips are parted, chasing the space where his used to be. He looks down at me like I’m everything, as if I’m not just something he wants to touch, but something he wants to know. Like he wants to worship me, and ruin me in the same breath.
I don’t know how to exist under that kind of gaze. It carves into me like light into shadow. I feel bare, seen, and held together only by his sheer force of wanting me.
My body is strung tight, trembling under the weight of want and fear. One wrong touch, one crack in the surface, and I’ll break down.
He told me he doesn’t want anything in return. That I don’t owe him a thing. And I believe him. God, I believe him so much I could cry.
So I bury the memories—those dark, rotting ones that taught me shame, that taught me fear.
I shove them down, just for tonight. Just long enough to give him this.
To give us this. I won’t let the past swallow me whole tonight.
I won’t let it take this from me. I don’t know how long I can bury it, I don’t know when it’ll come shattering, but for now, I won’t let it ruin what I have with him.
Because I want him. With everything in me, my body, my battered heart, my aching soul. I want Alexander.
His mouth trails heat down my neck, slow and reverent.
I arch into him without thinking, gasping when he nips at the spot below my ear.
He kisses down my collarbone, over my chest, and when his tongue flicks over my nipple, I gasp so hard it almost hurts.
My back lifts off the bed like I’m offering myself to him without even realizing it.
“Alex…” I whisper, breath hitching.
My cock pulses between us, hard again, already leaking, aching. Precum smears across my stomach, slick and warm. I’m trembling under him, not from fear this time, but from want. From the unbearable pressure building in every corner of me.
By the time Alexander reaches my navel, I’m panting hard.
My skin feels flushed and too tight, like my body can’t contain everything he’s making me feel.
He presses a warm kiss just beneath my belly button, and I nearly lose it.
But he avoids my cock entirely, and a desperate, breathy whine spills from my throat before I can stop it.
It surprises even me.
His chuckle is low and hot, sending heat spiraling straight down my spine.
“Impatient, are we?” he murmurs like a secret, his voice rough with amusement. Then his hand wraps around the base of my cock in a slow and deliberate motion, and my entire body jolts.
“Ah,” I gasp, head falling back. He’s been teasing me since the moment his hands first touched me tonight, dragging me along this edge so sweet it hurts. I didn’t know I could ache like this.
“So beautiful,” he whispers as he gives my thigh light kisses. His breath is warm, his words so sincere they crack something open in my chest. I feel wanted. My throat tightens, pressure building behind my eyes, but I blink it away. I won’t cry. Not tonight.
When his breath fans over the head of my cock, I tense, my whole body going still and tight.
A sharp inhale catches in my lungs. I can’t help it.
I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until his gaze flickers up to mine.
He looks at me like I’m something fragile, something precious, and the softness in his eyes melts the tension in my shoulders. I don’t know how, but it does.
“Tell me to stop if anything feels wrong, alright?” he says gently, grounded, like he means it.
I nod. It’s small, but it’s real. And I trust him.
Then his mouth presses the lightest kiss against the tip of cock—barely a touch, but it sends shivers racing through me. My hips twitch, instinctively and completely helpless, his hands tighten around them, grounding me, holding me still.
And then his tongue flicks out, just once, licking right across my slit.
Everything inside me short-circuits.
The jolt of pleasure is so sudden, so sharp, I can’t stop my body from jerking up. I slam a hand over my mouth, choking back the cry that almost tears out of me. My heart’s racing, blood pounding in my ears like a drum. I’ve never been touched like this. Never felt like this.
“Fuck,” he whispers, voice wrecked and low like gravel, like sin. “You taste so good, Lucas… so fucking intoxicating.”
That’s the only warning I get before his mouth sinks over the head of my cock—hot, wet, heaven—and takes me all the way in like it’s nothing.
The sound that tears out of me doesn’t even feel human.
My eyes roll back, a sharp gasp leaving my throat as white-hot bliss rips through me, flooding every nerve with fire.
His mouth is so warm, so soft, and wet. He works me slow, lips gliding along the length of me with unhurried hunger, tongue swirling around the head, licking up every drop like I’m something to savor.
He’s watching me. Watching me come apart for him, only him.
Eyes locked on mine, dark and full of something I can’t name. Something primal. It makes my stomach clench, makes my hips twitch, like I want to run from the intensity but also fall right into it.
“Please,” I whisper, breath catching, body trembling. “Please…”
I reach down with shaking hands, threading trembling fingers into his hair—not to guide, not to pull, just to hold on. To anchor myself in the middle of the storm that is him. To remind myself that this is real. That he is real.
He hums around me, deep and pleased, and the vibration nearly knocks the air out of my lungs, as my hips jerk upward before I can stop myself, but his strong hand presses firmly against my lower stomach, holding me down with ease and keeping me still.
His hand moves lower as he strokes my thigh, then his palms cup my sac and massage my balls with such careful pressure I choke on a moan, head falling back onto the pillow as my body arches.
It’s too much. The suction of his mouth, the wet drag of his tongue, the heavy heat of his hands on my balls. It’s overwhelming, it’s perfect, and it’s him. All of it is him.
The sounds spilling from me aren’t quiet anymore. I don’t care if I’m loud, if I’m needy. I want him to hear it. I want him to know how wrecked I am from his mouth alone.
“Alex—oh my… Alex,” I moan, voice cracking, breath shuddering. I’m babbling now, unable to stop the sounds tumbling from my throat. My whole body’s drawn tight, trembling with the oncoming rush of orgasm. My heart’s slamming like it’s trying to tear free from my chest.
Then his hand leaves my balls, and I barely have time to whimper before he trails lower until his fingers graze my hole. The breath that rips out of me is guttural and sharp, the contact is feather-light, and I feel myself cum a little.
His mouth leaves my cock with a slick pop, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse and soaked in hunger.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, his fingers still rubbing against my hole, now circling it in a way that makes my cock jerk and spurt with more precum. I am going to explode soon, and I feel it deep in my balls.
I shake my head desperately, panting like I’m drowning. My hands fist into the sheets, knuckles white.
“No,” I rasp. “Don’t stop—please don’t stop.”
His eyes soften even as something feral glints in them. He leans in, brushing his lips over mine. It’s sweet, possessive, and feels intimate.
“Relax for me, beautiful,” he whispers, and the sound of it shoots straight through me. “Let me make you cum.”
His lips are on mine again, more demanding this time.
“Taste yourself on my tongue.”
And I do that without hesitation.
The kiss is messy and deep, slick and hot. His lips are damp with me, and I groan against his mouth because fuck, it’s filthy and perfect and so ours. I’m already falling apart from it.
I barely register when he reaches beside us, slicking his fingers with lube. But I do feel it—when one finger presses slowly inside.
A gasp slips from my throat as my body clenches around the intrusion, the warmth of the lube only amplifying the stretch. I let out a quiet whine, my hips shifting helplessly.
His forehead touches mine, his breath fanning my lips as he murmurs,
“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”
His finger stills inside me, not moving, just letting me adjust as his voice anchors me.
“Just keep your eyes on me.”
I do.
Our gazes lock, mine glassy, his dark with reverence, and I nod, one trembling hand curling around his shoulder.
Slowly, he starts to move—gentle, patient, curling his finger in shallow strokes.
And fuck, it’s strange. Stretching. Foreign.
But it doesn’t hurt, his finger massages my insides slowly and carefully.
I bite my lip, adjusting to the feeling, begging myself and mind not to fuck this up.
My body gradually adjusts around his finger, my insides fluttering, yielding to him.
It’s overwhelming, full, warm, intimate, and intense, but not too much, not with Alex.
He moves with infinite patience, stroking deep inside me, and the pressure and pleasure building make my lips part, a breathy moan slipping out unbidden just by how good it feels now.
My eyes flutter, lashes trembling, and when I open them, Alex is already watching me. He hasn’t looked away once. His gaze is locked to mine like he’s memorizing every twitch of pleasure and flicker of discomfort on my face, like I am the most important thing in the world.