5. Jules #3
Jules came untouched at the command. His body locked around Connor, every muscle seizing.
The orgasm ripped through him so hard his vision went black at the edges.
He came across his own stomach and chest in hot, thick pulses, clenching around Connor’s cock in rhythmic contractions that dragged a broken sound from the man above him.
It went on longer than any orgasm he’d ever had, wave after wave pulling through him while Connor kept moving, kept hitting the sensitive parts of him, wringing out every last second of pleasure until Jules was shaking and oversensitive and nearly crying from the intensity of it.
“Baby… Jules…” Connor’s rhythm shattered.
His hand slammed against the headboard. He buried himself deep and came with a raw, guttural groan that vibrated through both of them, his cock pulsing inside Jules in thick, heavy throbs.
His hips jerked through it, and Jules held onto him through every shudder, clenching around him deliberately this time, milking Connor, wanting everything he had to give.
Connor collapsed as soon as he spent his release.
His full weight pressed Jules into the mattress.
Jules took it gratefully. He wanted it. Wrapping his arms around Connor’s sweat-slicked back, Jules held him there while they both shook through aftershocks.
Connor’s face was buried in his neck, his breath hot and uneven against Jules’s skin.
His cock was still inside Jules, softening slowly, and Jules tightened his legs around him to keep him there.
“Don’t move yet,” Jules whispered. His throat raw from the sounds he’d been making. “Just stay. Stay inside me”
Connor’s arms tightened around him. His mouth pressed against Jules’s neck. It wasn’t a kiss. More like he was simply connecting to the man who’d shattered his world.
Jules wasn’t sorry. How could he be when they were obviously meant to be together.
Neither of them spoke after that. They lay tangled together, heartbeats gradually slowing, the silence thick with what had just happened and what it meant.
Connor shifted first after a long while. As he slowly eased free, Jules hissed at the loss. He was sore, oversensitive, and already missing the fullness. Connor dealt with the condom, then dropped onto his back beside Jules.
They lay there staring at the ceiling with the weight of things between them.
Jules’s body was a wreck. His hips ached where Connor’s fingers had dug in. His neck throbbed with forming bruises. His thighs were sore. His ass was sore. He was covered in his own come, lying in sheets that smelled like sex and Connor, and he had never felt better in his entire life.
He turned his head looking at the man who’d given him everything he had. The man who had the power to destroy him if he decided Jules wasn’t what he wanted.
Connor’s eyes were closed. His chest rose and fell in slow, broken waves. One arm was thrown above his head. The other rested on his stomach, which was streaked with Jules’s come too. He hadn’t wiped it off when he’d left the bed. He hadn’t gotten up to clean himself the way he had in the office.
Jules reached over and placed his hand on Connor’s chest. He felt the other man’s heartbeat hammering beneath his palm.
Connor’s hand came up and covered his, pressed it flat and held it there.
The gesture was small. It said more than anything Connor had said all night.
“So,” Jules noted when the quiet became too much. “Still not attracted to men?”
A long pause met his words before Connor replied, “No.”
Jules’s stomach dropped before Connor continued.
“I’m not attracted to men.” Connor’s thumb moved across Jules’s knuckles. “I’m attracted to you. I don’t have a label for what that makes me, and I’m choosing not to find one right now.”
Jules gaped at his bedmate. Connor was staring at the ceiling, jaw tight, as though the admission had cost him. It probably had. A man who had systems for everything had just given himself permission to let things just exist.
“That’s the most romantic thing you could’ve said.” Jules smiled wide, happier than he could ever remember being.
Connor’s mouth twitched. Some might have considered it a smile.
“Stay,” Connor spoke after another moment of silence. The word was stripped bare. No authority behind it. No command. He was giving Jules the option to safeword out of things if he wanted to.
Yeah, right. Like that would ever fucking happen.
Jules moved closer and pressed himself against Connor’s side, his head finding the dip between shoulder and chest. Connor’s arm came around him, pulling him in tight.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Jules said.
Connor’s arm tightened.
Jules closed his eye. He could hear the heartbeat slowing beneath his ear, could feel the tension draining out of Connor’s body, muscle by muscle, as they lay there.
Tomorrow would be complicated. Connor would probably try to rebuild some of his walls. He’d go clinical. Tell himself this was a lapse. Call it an anomaly. He’d use every word in his considerable vocabulary to avoid the one that actually applied.
Jules could wait. He’d been waiting for three years. He could wait a little longer for Connor to catch up to what his body already knew.
Connor’s thumb traced a slow circle on Jules’s shoulder. Absent. Tender. The kind of touch a man made when he wasn’t thinking about whether he should.
Jules smiled against his skin.
Yours, he thought. Whether you know it yet or not.
He fell asleep listening to Connor breathe.