Epilogue
Torin
One Year Later
Torin had spent months dreading this moment—standing in front of Garett, knowing his time here was supposed to be ending. But now that it was here, he felt something unexpected. He wasn’t afraid.
The home was warm despite the early spring chill outside; the fire crackling in the stone hearth filling the space with flickering golden light. It smelled like pine, wood smoke, and the faintest trace of leather—Garett’s scent, something that had long ago stopped reminding him of power and control and started feeling like home.
Garett sat on the worn leather couch, legs spread in a way that was utterly relaxed, utterly in command, but his eyes were sharp, tracking Torin as he paced. He would not make this easy on him. But then again, nothing between them had ever been easy.
Torin stopped just short of where Garett sat, his heart hammering against his ribs. “My contract’s up in a week.”
Garett inclined his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “I know.”
Of course he did. Garett always knew. He'd likely been mentally preparing, just as Torin had been bracing himself for their inevitable farewell, the silence amplifying the weight of their unspoken emotions.
Only, it wasn’t inevitable.
Torin inhaled deeply, pushing past the last traces of doubt. “I don’t want to leave.”
That got a reaction. It was subtle—the way Garett’s fingers flexed on the couch’s arm, the way his breath seemed to pause—but Torin saw it. Felt it.
He took another step closer, his voice steady now. “I don’t want to leave you.”
Something shifted in Garett’s expression, something raw and barely restrained. But he still didn’t move. He was waiting—waiting for Torin to finish this, waiting to see if he meant it.
So he did what felt right.
Torin lowered himself to his knees, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. Because this wasn’t about submission. It was about trust.
Garett’s breath hitched, his hands clenching into fists before he forced them to relax. “Torin—”
“I know what I’m saying,” Torin interrupted, looking up at him. “I know what I’m asking.” He swallowed hard. “I want to stay. I want to be yours. Your sub.”
The silence between them stretched, thick with something neither of them had dared to name before. The fire crackled, the wind whispered against the cabin walls, but all Torin could hear was the rapid thud of his own heart.
Then, finally, finally, Garett moved.
His large hand cupped Torin’s jaw, his thumb dragging slowly over the curve of his cheek. His touch was gentle, but there was no mistaking the weight of it, the promise in it. “Say it again.”
Torin exhaled shakily, tilting his face into Garett’s palm. “I want to be yours. I’m staying and not leaving.”
Garett’s grip tightened ever so slightly, his expression torn between hunger and something deeper—something achingly tender. He shifted forward, lowering himself so their faces were only inches apart, his breath warm against Torin’s lips.
“You’ve been mine for a long time, sweetheart,” Garett murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve just been waiting for you to realize it.”
Torin let out a shaky laugh, his chest tight with something too big to name. “I have. And I don’t want to waste another second pretending otherwise.”
Garett’s eyes searched his, looking for any trace of doubt. When he found none, his resolve broke. He closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to Torin’s in a kiss that was more than just a claim. It was an answer. A promise.
Torin melted into him, fingers curling into the fabric of Garett’s shirt, holding on like he never intended to let go. Because he didn’t.
When they finally broke apart, Garett pressed their foreheads together, his thumb tracing slow circles along Torin’s jaw. “You’re sure?”
Torin smiled, breathless and at home. “More than I’ve ever been about anything. I enrolled in the university and was accepted.”
Garett exhaled, something easing in his posture, in the set of his shoulders. Then, with the smallest smirk, he brushed his lips over Torin’s again. “Good. Because I don’t plan on letting you go.”
Torin shivered at the promise in those words, at the sheer certainty in them.
He didn’t want to be anywhere else.
Not now. Not ever.
The End