16. Eli
Eli
It’s been a month since I told CJ some of what I have been through. I let him tell Deck and Finn, and they immediately took his side. A strange warmth settles in my chest. Being protected feels foreign, like someone else’s skin, but I don’t hate it.
Apparently, I now require twenty-four-hour supervision. Their words, not mine. Part of me wanted to argue, and I did tell them they were being ridiculous, that I was overreacting. The words felt thin even as I said them, a cold ripple moving through me, betraying the lie.
They ignored me completely. So now, I rarely go anywhere without one of them. I won’t tell them that having them close feels safer than I want to admit.
The nightmares come less often these days. I sleep through most nights without jolting awake, gasping for air and searching every corner for threats that aren’t there.
I sleep because I know CJ is nearby in the apartment, in the room next to mine.
My thoughts screech to a halt.
Naked.
CJ is sleeping naked in the room next to mine.
Jesus Christ.
Heat rushes through me so fast it makes my vision blur. My breath catches, sharp and embarrassing. I’m so hard as I let my imagination run away with me. I push my hand beneath the waistband of my sleep pants and wrap my fingers around my cock.
“Fuuuck,” I groan. As my hand slides along my length, a shiver runs down my spine.
My breath hitches as I visualize those blue eyes, a crooked smile, a scar, that dimple, and those hands. God, those hands.
I remember the way they felt against my skin, my cock, the warmth of his touch, his scent, his taste, the feel of his tongue against mine, fighting for space.
My hips lift instinctively, the memory too vivid, too consuming.
I stroke myself harder, chasing the feeling, my hips lifting from the mattress to seek more friction. I close my eyes and let the fantasy take hold.
My breath comes fast and uneven. Every nerve feels awake, desperate.
Those hands wrapped around me, firm but careful, steady and patient. Every touch drives me closer to the edge. My pulse pounds in my ears as heat coils low in my stomach, tightening with every stroke as my hips snap upward.
In my mind, CJ is smiling down at me. “Come for me, Baby Boy.” His voice low and rough.
My orgasm crashes through me, making my whole body shake.
“CJ…” His name falls from my lips like a prayer.
Moans tear from my throat; The release feels like falling apart in the best possible way. It steals the breath from my lungs, and I groan, my head falling back against the pillow as I ride out the high.
Slowly, my breathing cools, and the intensity fades, leaving me sprawled across the bed, panting hard.
For a moment, I just lie there. Then the reality of what I’ve done catches up with me. I came with CJ’s name on my lips, his eyes in my head, his hands in every fantasy.
“Holy fuck,” I whisper, staring at the ceiling and trying to process what just happened.
Who am I kidding? I know exactly what happened. I’m completely gone for him. A laugh slips out before I can stop it.
Shaking my head, I climb out of bed, grab a shirt to wipe myself clean, and pull on a pair of boxer briefs. Still smiling to myself, I cross the room and open the door.
* * *
My breath stops. The sight of him hits like a shockwave.
For a second, neither of us moves. CJ stands on the other side of the door, one hand resting against the frame. His hair is messy, like he’s run his hand through it a hundred times, and his eyes lock with mine.
I clear my throat. “CJ?”
His jaw moves slightly before he looks away. “Sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” I ask, frowning. He looks unsettled, and that scares me more than anything.
He looks back at me and huffs. “I don’t actually know.”
That surprises me. The honesty tastes strange, unfamiliar. CJ always knows what to do, what to say. He’s the person everyone looks to when something goes wrong. He is reliable. But right now? He looks almost as lost as I feel.
“You okay?” he asks.
The question makes me want to laugh. Normally, I would give him the standard line: “I’m fine.” But I can’t say it. Not anymore, not with him.
I look down. “I’m…” The word catches, so I try again. “I’m confused.”
CJ doesn’t react; he just waits. That’s one of the things I love about him. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t try to fill the silence. He just waits.
“I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
I shrug, feeling useless. “Want things.” My stomach rolls. Wanting feels dangerous, like stepping into open air. “I spent a long time making sure I didn’t want anything,” my voice drops, “because wanting things meant someone could take them away.”
CJ’s face tightens, not at me, but at the person who made me think like that: Adrian.
“I don’t want to be scared all the time anymore,” I whisper. The honesty surprises me because I haven’t even admitted it to myself yet.
CJ takes a slow breath. “Eli.”
I look up.
“You know you don’t have to be afraid of me wanting something from you, right?”
My throat tightens because that’s not what I’m afraid of. “I’m scared I’m going to mess this up.” The words come out before I can stop them.
CJ’s eyebrows pull together. “Mess what up?”
I gesture between us. “This.”
Silence. Then CJ takes a step closer: slow, careful, like I’m something he doesn’t want to startle.
“You haven’t done anything wrong, Eli.”
I almost laugh because he says it so easily, like it’s obvious, like I should know it already.
I shake my head. “You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me.”
That catches me because he genuinely means it. I stare at him, not knowing how to articulate it.
“I don’t know how to be someone’s good thing.” The words feel too raw, too exposed.
CJ’s expression breaks slightly. Then he steps closer. Not touching me, just waiting.
“Eli,” my name is quiet on his lips. “You don’t have to be anything except yourself.”
My lips close the distance, and I kiss him, hoping I don’t somehow ruin this. CJ’s hand slides to the back of my neck, holding me there like he’s reminding me I’m safe, like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
His lips brush mine as his tongue teases the seam of my lips. I open for him as his kiss deepens. CJ has a way of kissing that makes everything else disappear, rolling into my mouth and exploring every single millimeter.
My tongue dances with his, and he pulls me tight to him.
He turns me and pushes me gently against the door.
His thigh moves between my legs. My hips start to move against his thigh, my breath coming in short bursts as the friction sends sparks through every nerve.
I chase the feeling of him, and he meets me there, moving with me like we’ve done this a hundred times.
My body reacts to him, every nerve awake as CJ’s lips trail down my neck. I lose myself in the feeling of him, in the way he holds me like I’m worth keeping.
His lips move to the spot just beneath my ear, and a quiet sound of need slips from me before I can stop it. He kisses his way to the other side, slow and deliberate, then moves down to my collarbone. Every touch makes me feel wanted.
Chosen.
His hand moves between us, and I feel the intention behind every touch. He isn’t taking; he’s learning. Being touched like this feels new, terrifying, perfect.
My breath catches at the way he looks at me: like I’m precious, like I’m worthy.
“CJ,” I moan.
His eyes never leave mine as his hand moves between us, pulling my briefs down until they sit just below my hips. He pulls his cock free and wraps his hand around both of ours.
Oh my god, his fingers.
His hand grips us together, and my world narrows to just him.
He holds me like he knows exactly what I need: no fear, no hesitation.
His eyes hold mine, his forehead pressed to my temple, our breath mixing as I catch the familiar scent of coffee and toothpaste, something so ordinary, yet so intimate. His hand stays steady as he strokes us.
“Baby Boy,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “Look at me. Stay with me.”
My vision blurs. His voice pulls me back from the edge, steady and sure.
We move together, lost in the moment, both of us chasing the same thing. My body shakes as I groan his name, the release feeling like I’m breaking open in his hands.
Everything narrows down to him: his hands, his voice as he calls me Baby Boy.
His.
Mine.
The feeling builds and tightens until he strokes us both to climax. My hands grip his shoulders tight as my cum coats his hand, which he uses as lube to stroke himself over the edge.
“Eli…”
My name leaves his lips as he throws his head back, his cum hot as it lands on my chest. The sight of him unraveling steals my breath.
The intensity running through me leaves me breathless, clinging to him as the overwhelming need settles into something peaceful.
My mind can’t process anything except CJ. The world disappears. CJ pulls me closer, his forehead resting against mine.
“Baby, come back to me, Eli.”
And I do. His voice grounds me, bringing me back every time. My breath steadies, the lingering panic loosening its grip, replaced by something warm and certain.
We stand like that for a while, just breathing each other in.
He leans back slightly. “We need a shower,” he says with a grin.
He steps back, and I take him in. The man standing in front of me feels impossible.
Strong.
Steady.
Mine?
Can I hope for that? Am I going to ruin this?
Hope feels dangerous, but I can’t stop reaching for it.
CJ reaches for my hand, and as we walk toward the shower, one thought settles in my mind: I’m not giving up this man. I deserve happiness. I deserve whatever this is with CJ.
And I am going to fight like hell to keep it. I’ll fight for this. For him. For us.