23. Lennox #3
I could feel sweat beading between us, our bodies sliding together in ways that should have been awkward but felt like coming alive.
Every sensation was amplified, every touch electric, every sound he made sending jolts of pleasure straight through me.
When his hand found its way between us, I nearly came undone completely.
“Not yet,” I gasped, grabbing his wrist. “Together. I want…”
“I know,” he breathed and kissed me with bruising force. “I know what you want.”
The outside lights streaming through the windows turned everything orange, painted our skin in warm tones as we moved together like we were trying to fuse into one person.
Every shadow and highlight played across the planes of his body, turning him into something almost otherworldly, all sharp angles and fluid grace, power and vulnerability wrapped in sun-kissed skin.
The cabin filled with our voices, gasps and moans and whispered declarations, like promises, like everything we should have said months ago but were finally brave enough to voice.
Oliver’s name fell from my lips like a mantra.
“Ollie.” Just like he liked it, broken and desperate and reverent all at once.
He answered with my own, voice cracking on the syllables as if saying it was almost too much to bear.
“Lennox,” he breathed against my mouth, and then again, “Lennox, fuck, I…”
“I know,” I whispered back, because I did. I could feel it in every tremor that ran through his body, could see it in the way his eyes went wide and dark and desperate. “I’m right there with you.”
And I was. Every nerve ending in my body was on fire, every sensation magnified beyond reason.
When Oliver shifted his angle, when he hit that spot that made stars explode behind my eyelids, I cried out loud enough that the sound echoed off the cabin walls.
He swallowed the sound with another bruising kiss, his tongue claiming my mouth with the same intensity his body was claiming the rest of me.
We were both close now, hanging on the knife’s edge of release, and the knowledge that we were doing this together, that after everything, after all the hurt and separation and stupid choices, we were here in this moment, was almost enough to tip me over.
“Together,” Oliver panted against my lips, and I nodded frantically, unable to form words around the intensity building in my chest. His rhythm was becoming erratic, desperate, and I could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in both of us.
When it finally broke, when the wave crashed over us both simultaneously, it felt like dying and being reborn in the same breath.
Oliver’s body went rigid against mine, every muscle locked tight as he buried his face in my neck and cried out my name like it was the only word he remembered.
The sound, the feel of him falling apart in my arms, was enough to drag me over the edge with him.
When Oliver finally collapsed against me, both of us trembling and spent and barely breathing, I felt like I’d been turned inside out and put back together in the right order for the first time in my life.
The missing pieces had all fallen into place, the jagged edges smoothed over by his touch and his presence and the simple, overwhelming fact that he was here, that he was mine, that somehow, we’d found our way back to each other despite everything we’d done to fuck it up.
We lay there in the aftermath, hearts gradually slowing from their frantic rhythm, sweat and cum cooling on our skin in the mountain air.
Oliver traced lazy patterns on my chest with his fingertip, circles and spirals and words I couldn’t quite decipher, and I watched the lamplight play across his shoulders, turning the sweat droplets still clinging to his hair into tiny prisms.
He was beautiful like this. Soft and unguarded, all his usual armor stripped away. The harsh lines of stress and pressure that had been etched around his eyes were gone, replaced by something that looked almost like peace.
“I’m never choosing anything over you again,” he said quietly, his voice still rough from exertion but steady with conviction. “Never. I don’t care what it costs me.”
I turned to look at him, this beautiful, broken, perfect man who’d just torn apart my entire world and rebuilt it in the span of an hour. His eyes were serious, intent, like he was making a vow.
“Promise me,” I whispered, my own voice barely audible in the quiet room.
He leaned down and kissed me, soft and sure and full of everything we’d almost lost. When he pulled back, his eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“I promise,” he said, and I believed him.
“I love you more than any medal, any record, any dream I’ve ever had.
You’re my dream now, Lennox. You’re everything. ”
The words settled into my chest like warm honey, sweet and golden and healing. I pulled him down for another kiss, deeper this time, tasting the promise on his lips and feeling, for the first time in weeks, like everything was going to be okay.
We were going to be okay.