6. Kai
KAI
I open the door to my apartment, and Atlas doesn’t even let me close it behind us before he’s kissing me.
The kiss is desperate and urgent, like he’s been waiting to do this all day. He pushes me backward, his hands already reaching for the hem of my shirt. I stumble slightly, but then my hands are on him too—gripping his waist, pulling him closer.
“Fuck, Atlas. I’ve been thinking about this since yesterday.”
“Me too,” he breathes against my mouth without letting go. We’re all teeth and tongue and desperation.
He breaks the kiss just long enough to yank my shirt over my head.
His eyes are dark and focused entirely on me.
He runs his hands down my sides, the sensation electric, and my muscles tense under his palms. I groan and reach for his Henley, then pull it off with slightly less finesse than he managed.
“Bedroom,” I say, my voice rough with want. “Now.”
He doesn’t argue. His hands grip my waist as I guide him through the hallway, our bodies pressed together as we move. We kiss as we walk, stumbling slightly when I misjudge the doorframe. He laughs against my mouth, and I have to kick the door open wider before pulling him inside.
He breaks the kiss just long enough to glance around the room, then back at me with a grin. “No bookshelves in here. Guess we’ll have to improvise.”
“I think we’ll manage,” I say, already reaching for him again. He’s warm and solid, and I need him more than I’ve needed anything in a long time.
I push him gently toward the bed until he falls backward, pulling me down with him.
“Let me,” I say, my voice low and reverent. “Let me take care of you.”
“Okay.”
I start at his neck, kissing the sensitive skin there while my hands work at his jeans. He lifts his hips to help me pull them off, and then his underwear follows. In seconds, he’s completely naked beneath me, exposed and vulnerable and so beautiful I can barely breathe.
I pull back slightly to look at him. He’s watching me with an intensity that matches my own. His chest rises and falls with each breath, his skin flushed with arousal. I want to memorize every detail—the way his collarbone catches the light, the slight curve of his ribs, the soft hair on his chest.
“You’re so beautiful,” I say, and mean it with every fiber of my being. Not just his body, though that’s stunning. But him. The way he’s looking at me. The way he’s trusting me to look after him.
I lower my head and kiss his collarbone, then move lower. My lips find his chest, and I take my time there, kissing and licking and worshipping every inch of skin. His hands roam across my back, gripping me like he’s afraid I might disappear. I won’t. I’m not going anywhere.
“Kai,” he breathes, his fingers threading through my hair.
I hum against his skin, the vibration sending shivers through his body. I move lower, kissing down his stomach, my tongue tracing the line of muscle there. His breath catches as I get closer to where he needs me most.
I pause, looking up at him with a question in my eyes. I need to be absolutely sure.
“Yes,” he says immediately, his voice urgent. “Please.”
I take his cock into my mouth. He’s hard and warm, and the taste of him is intoxicating.
I work slowly, deliberately, my mouth and tongue working in tandem.
Yesterday I rushed it. The possibility of being caught made it exciting, forbidden.
But tonight? I’m savoring this—savoring him.
The way he responds to my touch. The way his hips twitch with each movement.
I watch him as I work, unable to look away. His eyes are closed, his head tilted back against the pillow. His expression is one of pure pleasure, and knowing I’m the one giving him that pleasure makes my own arousal spike.
“You feel so good,” I murmur, pulling back slightly, my fingers pressing against his rim. “You taste so good.”
I go back down, and this time I’m more insistent until I can feel the pressure building in his core. His hips start moving with me, setting a rhythm, and I let him lead. His hands grip my shoulders, his fingers digging in slightly as the pleasure builds.
“Kai, I’m close,” he warns, his voice breathless.
I don’t stop. If anything, I intensify my efforts, taking him deeper, working him harder. I want to feel him come. I want to taste it again. I want to know that I did this to him.
He comes hard, his back arching off the bed as pleasure washes through him. My name falls from his lips like a prayer as I swallow, taking everything he gives me.
When he finally comes down, I kiss my way back up his body, pausing at his chest. My lips find his nipples and suck each into hard pebbles.
My cock is rock-hard against his thigh. I know what I want, what I need, but I don’t know if he’ll want to give it to me.
I reach down to my cock and stroke it just how I like it. I keep my mouth busy exploring his skin until my lips meet his, and I kiss him with all the pent-up sexual energy still rushing though my veins.
His arousal is already rebuilding. I can feel it in the way his body responds to my touch.
“I want you inside me,” he says, his voice steadier now but still filled with need. “I want you to fuck me, Kai.”
The words send a jolt of desire through me. I pull back to look at him. “Are you sure?”
“I want this,” he tells me, his eyes locked on mine. “I want you.”
I run the head of my cock over his hole, and he takes a breath, relaxing his body.
“If you think we’re doing this without prep, you have another think coming,” I say.
“I don’t need it.”
“Sure, sure.” I ignore his pleas and reach for the nightstand drawer and pull out a condom and lube. I throw the condom on the bed, then coat my fingers with probably more than enough lube.
He arches his back and closes his eyes as I start. The sounds coming from him have me on edge, desperate to speed this up, but I also don’t want to hurt him.
When he’s fucking my fingers and reaching for me, I know it’s time. I roll the condom down my shaft, then coat myself generously with lube. I position myself between his thighs, and I look at him one more time, silently asking for permission.
He pulls me toward him, so I enter slowly, carefully, watching his face for any sign of discomfort. I see none—just pleasure and the overwhelming sensation of him stretching around me as I slide deeper.
“Okay?” I ask, my jaw clenched with the effort of holding back. He feels incredible. Tight and warm and perfect.
“More than okay,” he breathes. “I need you to move.”
I start with slow, deep thrusts. The moment is not frantic or desperate. It’s intimate and perfect. My forehead rests against his, and we’re breathing the same air, sharing the same space.
My brain keeps offering ideas I shouldn’t have. Forcing my mouth to share what is too early to share. Instead, I whisper, “You’re perfect. You’re so perfect.”
He wraps his legs around my waist, pulling me deeper. The angle changes, and I can feel him tense slightly as I hit that spot inside him that makes his eyes go wide.
“There,” he gasps. “Right there.”
I adjust my rhythm, hitting that spot with each thrust. My pace increases gradually, building toward the orgasm. He grips my shoulders, and his nails dig in slightly. I don’t mind. The pain is just another sensation, another way of knowing this is happening.
“I’m not going to last,” I say, my voice strained. I can feel the pressure building, the pleasure coiling tighter in my core.
“It’s okay,” he tells me. “Come for me.”
I thrust deeper, faster, losing the rhythm I’d been maintaining.
I’m chasing the pleasure now, chasing the feeling of him around me.
His body tenses, and I can feel him coming, his muscles contracting around me.
The sensation pushes me over the edge, and I come hard, his name on my lips as my body goes rigid.
For a moment, there’s nothing but pleasure and him and the overwhelming rightness of this moment.
I collapse on top of him, sweaty and breathless, my weight pressing him into the mattress. He doesn’t seem to mind. He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight, and I let myself rest there for a moment, feeling his heartbeat gradually slow beneath my chest.
After a few minutes, I carefully pull out and dispose of the condom. I return to bed and wipe him off, then pull him against my chest, my arms wrapping around him from behind. He fits perfectly against me, like we were made to fit together. Like this is exactly where he’s supposed to be.
I press a kiss to the back of his neck, breathing in the scent of him mixed with sex and sweat. It’s intoxicating.
“Do you want to stay the night?” I ask gently. Wondering if it’s too early for this. If I should try to be more casual. After all, he’ll be going back to Denver soon.
He turns to look at me, and in the soft light of the bedside lamp, I can see the vulnerability in his expression. The hope. The same hope I’m feeling.
“You want me to stay?” he asks.
“Yeah. I want to wake up with you.”
He settles back against my chest, letting my arms tighten around him. “Okay. I’ll stay.”
I hold him like that, listening to his breathing gradually even out as he starts to drift toward sleep.
My mind is racing, though. Because for me this isn’t just sex.
This isn’t just a hookup or a distraction.
It feels truly real—like it could change everything I expected to find when I moved to Pine Ridge.
I press another kiss to his shoulder, and he makes a small sound of contentment.
We lie there in the quiet of my apartment, the world outside forgotten, and I think about how rare this is.
How rare it is to find someone who shows up like this.
Who’s willing to be vulnerable. Who’s willing to be seen even at his darkest of times.
Atlas is asleep within minutes, but I stay awake a little longer, just holding him and wondering about the viability of a long-distance relationship. If Atlas would even be willing to try.