22. Levi
I tighten the towel around my waist and step out of the bathroom, the steam clinging to my skin. The apartment is dead quiet now. No sirens. No shouting. No cops taking pictures of the bullet hole in the ceiling.
Just Dover.
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a heavy grey towel. His damp hair is messy, sticking up in spikes, and he’s staring blankly at the floorboards. He looks smaller than he does in his hockey pads. Vulnerable. It makes a knot tighten in my throat just looking at him.
While he was in the shower washing the plaster dust out of his hair, I did what I could to clean up the wreckage.
I swept up the shattered glass, kicked the broken splinters of the doorframe out of the walkway, and threw a sheet over the ruined couch.
It was the only way to stop my hands from shaking. I needed to move.
"Hey," I say softly.
Dover blinks, pulling himself out of whatever dark place his mind just wandered to. He looks up at me, and the sheer exhaustion in his eyes completely breaks my heart.
"Hey," he echoes, his voice a quiet rasp.
I sit down next to him. The mattress dips under my weight, and without a word, Dover shifts closer.
He leans his forehead against my bare shoulder, letting out a long, shuddering breath.
I wrap my arm around his back, pulling him flush against my side, and bury my face in his damp hair.
He smells like my soap now. Clean. Alive.
My heart is still doing a slow, heavy thud against my ribs. I close my eyes, recalling the suffocating terror of sprinting up those apartment stairs, hearing that gunshot echo through the concrete walls, and believing—for a fraction of a second—that the man I loved was dead on the floor.
I want to tell him. The words are right there, burning a hole through my chest. I love you, Dover. I love you so much it terrifies me.
But the timing feels selfish. He just survived an attack. He doesn't need the weight of a massive confession crashing down on him right now. So, I keep my mouth shut, but I squeeze him tighter, hoping my hands can communicate what my voice can't.
"You're shaking," Dover whispers, his hand reaching up to touch my bare chest, right over my racing heart.
"I'm fine," I lie, my voice thick. "Just... glad you're here."
He shifts, tilting his head up to look at me.
His eyes trace my face, searching, and before I can say anything else, he pulls me down into a kiss.
It isn’t like our usual kisses—there’s no heat or urgency in it.
It’s slow, deep, and desperately tender.
It feels like a reassurance. A promise that he’s still whole and that we’re still here.
I pull back from the kiss, but I don’t let him go. I can’t. My hands are still locked on his waist, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. A sudden, suffocating wave of protectiveness washes over me.
I take a deep breath, the air burning my throat, and decide to just take the plunge. “Stay here," I say, the words rushing out before I can lose my nerve. "Not just tonight, Dover. Move in with me."
Dover freezes. His eyes widen, staring at me as if trying to process my words.
"Levi..." he breathes out.
"I'm serious," I press on, my grip tightening on his hips.
"I don't want us to be alone anymore. I don't want to spend another night wondering if you're safe or driving across town like a maniac because someone is targeting you. I want you with me. Every day. I’m finally awake and accepting that we’re meant to be together.”
For a second, the silence in the room is deafening. Then, a sudden, beautiful light breaks across Dover’s exhausted face. He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t even take a breath to think it over.
"Yes," he says, a fierce, breathless laugh escaping him. "God, yes, Levi."
Before I can even process the rush of relief, Dover lunges forward. He catches me completely off guard, throwing his arms around my neck with so much momentum that we both go flying backward.
My back hits the mattress with a heavy thud, and Dover lands right on top of me. The sudden impact sends us both laughing—a wild, hysterical release of all the terror and adrenaline we’ve been holding onto for the last few hours.
He pins my wrists to the bed, his knees settling on either side of my hips. His damp hair falls into his eyes, a brilliant, beautiful contrast to the nightmare we just escaped.
"You're stuck with me now, big guy," he whispers, his eyes blazing with a heat that has nothing to do with hockey and everything to do with us.
In our frantic scramble, the knots holding our towels together completely give way. With a couple of impatient tugs, the fabric is kicked free, tossed carelessly over the edge of the bed to join the wreckage on the floor.
I reach up, my large hands gripping his hips, pulling him down against my bare skin.
The unspoken “I love you” is vibrating in the air between us, thicker and truer than it has ever been, completely erasing the ghost of Steven and the fear of the outside world.
Right here, tangled in the sheets, there is only us.
The laughter fades into a heavy, charged silence as Dover looks down at me. The adrenaline that had my heart pulsing in terror just an hour ago twists into something entirely different—something fierce, electric, and desperate.
I reach up, my palms sliding over the warm skin of his lower back, pulling him down until there is no space left between us. Dover lets out a low, shaky breath against my lips, his hands moving from my wrists to bury themselves deep in my damp hair.
When he kisses me this time, the gentleness from before is completely gone.
It is bruising, urgent, and hungry. It feels like we are both trying to wash away the memory of the gun, the plaster dust, and the hatred that tried to tear us apart.
Every brush of his lips against mine is an assertion that he is alive, that he is whole, and that he belongs right here.
"Levi," he groans against my mouth, his fingers tightening in my hair.
I shift my weight, rolling us over until I am hovering over him, framing his face with my hands.
He looks up at me from the pillows, his cheeks flushed and his eyes dark with a vulnerability that makes my chest ache.
I kiss my way down his jaw, tracing the frantic pulse in his throat with my tongue, making him shiver beneath me.
Every touch feels heightened, fueled by the terrifying realization of how close I came to losing him.
I grip his hips, anchoring him to the mattress, reminding myself with every press of his skin against mine that he is safe.
He arches into my touch, a breathless sound escaping him that echoes in the quiet bedroom, completely erasing the outside world.
My mouth seeks out Dover's hard and twitching cock, feeling the heat and tension pulsing beneath my lips.
As I lower my head, I let my tongue trace a slow, deliberate path from the base of his balls all the way up to the sensitive tip, savoring every inch of his arousal.
The salty-sweet taste of his precum lingers on my tongue, a testament to his excitement.
Dover shudders beneath me, his body trembling with anticipation and pleasure at each movement of my mouth and tongue.
I pause for a moment, meeting his eyes and holding his gaze, wanting him to see the desire and intent in mine, before I slowly take him deeper into my mouth, enveloping him in warmth and wetness.
His eyes roll back in pleasure, and his hips thrust upwards with increasing urgency.
I suck on him harder, drawing a sharp curse from his lips as he loses control for a moment.
His fingers become tightly tangled in my hair, gripping me with desperation as I continue to take him deeper into my mouth.
While I focus on pleasuring him, I realize that I’m grinding my hips against the bed, seeking out much-needed friction for my own aching arousal.
Despite the growing need in my body, I refuse to let my mouth leave him, determined to keep him on the edge.
I want to feel him climaxing down my throat, to taste every bit of him, and to savor the sensation of his release as it happens.
I feel myself teetering on the edge, about to lose control and erupt against the bed at any moment, completely powerless to hold myself back.
The tension in my body is overwhelming, and I realize that resistance is futile.
Just as I surrender to the sensation, Dover suddenly begins to release, hot and insistent, down my throat.
The unexpected rush makes me grunt involuntarily, my body shuddering with pleasure.
In that intense moment, I make a sticky, undeniable mess of the covers beneath me.
And when the final wave of fatigue and relief sweeps over us, we drop into the tangled sheets, utterly spent.
I rip the dirty sheet from under us before crawling up the bed and lying down.
I draw Dover up against me, his head resting solidly on my chest. I hold him close in my arms, pull the blanket over our bare shoulders, and kiss the top of his head, for good measure.
“Tomorrow’s a new day, and I can’t wait to explore the future with you,” I say, my voice trembling with anticipation and hope for all that is yet to come.
The words hang in the air between us, filled with promise and possibility, and I feel my heart swell with emotion.
Overcome, I swallow the lump in my throat, trying to steady myself against the overwhelming tide of feeling.
I reach out, my hand trembling slightly, and press a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips, savoring the warmth and reassurance that his presence brings.
“Yes,” I whisper softly, my answer carrying all the certainty and commitment I feel in this moment.
As the quiet settles around us, I listen intently to the even, restful beat of his breathing, the steady rise and fall of his chest is a comforting rhythm that soothes my racing thoughts.
The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of us in this peaceful cocoon.
Finally, I allow my eyes to close, surrendering to the serenity that envelops me.
I know, with a deep and abiding certainty, that he is exactly where he belongs—right here beside me.
And I realize that I, too, am exactly where I am meant to be.
We are together, and that is all that matters.