Chapter 70
Martin
Jamie is so scared that all I want to do is stop him, pull him into my arms, and reassure him that everything is going to be okay.
He doesn’t have to go through with it if he doesn’t want to.
We can read as many books as he likes, or I can simply watch him from afar, just quietly sharing the same space, the same air.
I sensed his anxiety the moment he told me he wanted to make love to me. I could feel his struggle and his pain, and I understood, even though he never said it out loud.
He has never given himself to anyone before, but now he feels ready to give himself to me.
He puts his hands on either side of my head.
His arms are shaking, and it’s not just from muscle tension.
He looks so scared and lost, like he’s trapped in the dark and can’t find anything to help him see or find his way out.
Or maybe he’s keeping his eyes closed on purpose, afraid that if he opens them, there will be nothing waiting for him.
I’m here, Captain. You don’t have to look for me. I’ll find you, I promise.
My hands slide down his back, and when they reach his buttocks, I press gently, welcoming him inside me as he welcomes me inside him.
He is struggling with himself, not with me. I can stand by his side and help him face everything that brings him pain, whether it is.
I am not afraid. I may not have muscles, but I have something stronger than any weapon or force: my love, and it belongs only to him.
Jamie holds his breath, looking like he’s afraid of hurting me, losing control, or maybe even breaking me. I move closer, reassuring him that it’s okay, that I want him to make love to me just as he asked. I want him to see I’m here for him, that I’m not going anywhere.
As he slides inside me, heat spreads through my body, and desire begins to shake me. My thoughts are clear. I just want to feel him, to love him, and make him love me in his own way, even though he thinks he can’t. He doesn’t realise he’s already loving me.
I press on his buttocks again, wanting him to let go and see that everything is okay, that what we’re doing feels right. That we, together, are right. And that there will be no one else in the world for me.
When he starts to move — slowly but with new confidence — I let him set the pace and cradle his face in my hands.
His blue eyes are wide open now, and I am the only one he sees.
I draw him closer and press my mouth to his, breathing into him, pouring my feelings into the space between us — showing him that I am safe, that he will not hurt me, and that I will not hurt him.
I lift my legs to give him more, to give him everything, and when he feels me completely open for him, he sinks into me, crying loudly into my mouth. His moan ripples into a warm shiver that runs down my spine.
“Doctor,” he whispers. “God… you are… perfect. You’re so fucking perfect.”
He rubs his face against mine, surrendering to me. What he’s giving me is pure love. I can feel it — some things can’t be faked — and this isn’t about sex.
He braces his arms and pushes again, deeper this time, then pauses, needing a moment not to be overwhelmed. He draws a long, shaky breath, then collapses onto me, his mouth crashing into mine, his tongue urgently searching for contact. He needs that connection; he craves it.
His hand glides down my arm until he finds my fingers, and we intertwine. His slow, sinuous thrusts are a gentle torture, drawing us into another world we know we’ll never truly return from.
Then he captures my other hand and pins it with the first, bracing himself on our joined fingers as his abs tighten and his hips rock over me. When he finally lifts his gaze to mine again, his eyes say everything words never could.
I know you love me, Captain. Don’t say it if you are not ready; you don’t have to.
He lowers himself until his body covers mine, resting his forehead against my own.
“You are my first,” he exhales, as if finally releasing a long, painful burden.
“You are the only one I have ever wanted.”
His thrust comes again, harder this time, and I bend to the pressure of his cock inside me.
“You are the first in everything.”
Another, deeper thrust.
“And you will be the last.”
He silences me with his tongue, and I surrender to him, to each thrust, to his need to empty himself inside me.
The first. The only one. The last.
The words echo in my mind with a power I’ve never felt before. They pound and shout, carving themselves into me, refusing to fade away. He’s written them on my skin, and nothing can wash them off.
His movements grow frantic and unsteady, his grip on my fingers tightening as if he’s afraid to let go.
His fear seeps into me, his pain pressing down on my heart. His past bleeds into my present until his guilt feels like my own.
His hips slam into me, his breath breaks apart, and then Jamie collapses, shivering and out of breath.
Slowly, he releases my fingers but keeps my hands in his. He shifts to the side, half his body still draped over mine, his face buried in the mattress, his breath lost in the sheets as my heart races.
I find his hand again, needing him to know — without words — that my heart belongs to him.
He rests his palm on my chest for a few moments, then turns his head to find my eyes. Desire still burns there, along with a quiet sense of fulfilment.
He takes my hand and moves it from my chest to his, pressing my palm over his heart. He covers it with his own and holds it there.
Same race. Same pace.
I lean in and press my lips to his.
Same breath. Same need.
The first. The only one. The last.
God, Captain.
You are my first love. You’re the only man I will ever love. And you’ll be the last to break my heart. When you’re finished with me, there will be nothing left but ashes.