“You like that,” he said.
“Everything,” I said. “I like everything you do.”
His toes curled against my calf. I felt them flex, felt the tension in his legs, the way every muscle in his body was coiled tight. He was close. I could read it in the shallow rasp of his breathing, the flush spreading down his chest, the desperate way his hand moved along our cocks.
I kissed him again, slower and deeper, swallowing his sounds. His tongue met mine, and the kiss turned messy, all heat and hunger and the building pressure that had us both trembling.
My own body was strung tight, every nerve on fire, every touch electric. His hand moved, and I gasped into his mouth, breaking the kiss to press my forehead against his.
“Close,” I managed.
“Me too.”
We moved together, rhythm falling apart into something frantic. His fingers tangled inmy hair. Mine gripped his hip hard enough to bruise. Our bodies pressed together with nothing between us but heat and friction and the desperate grip of his hand.
His breathing went ragged, and mine matched it. The tension coiled tighter and tighter until it was unbearable.
Then his back arched, body going rigid beneath me, and I felt him fall apart, cum spilling over his hand, ribbons landing on my stomach and his. The slickness between his cock and mine grew heated, and Bennet’s hand moved faster.
The sound pushed me over the edge. I followed him down, vision whiting out, every muscle in my body locking up before releasing all at once.
We collapsed together, breathing hard, hearts pounding in tandem, cum and sweat spreading and smearing between our pressed bodies, cocks pulsing and toes curling. We breathed deeply, silently, not breaking this moment with unnecessary words. All we needed was right here and now.
And nothing could take that away.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
bennet
The gym was already dimmingtoward evening when we got there. Rubber and metal and the faint sharpness of disinfectant hung in the air. We’d walked over together from the Bel House, close enough that our shoulders brushed once or twice, accidental but not really. I kept my hands in my pockets so I wouldn’t do something stupid, like reach for him without thinking.
The locker room was busy. Voices bounced off the tile. Lockers slammed. I changed fast, eyes down, movements efficient. I knew Jason was a few feet away. I knew exactly where he was without looking. I could feel it, the way you can feel a heat source even with your back turned. I wanted to glance over my shoulder, just once, catch the moment his shirt came off, see the familiar lines of him exposed in a place that wasn’t private. I didn’t. I told myself it was better this way.There would be other chances. I let that thought sit without examining it too closely.
Out on the floor, Jason slipped into instructor mode without any announcement. He showed me how to adjust the seat on the machine, nudged my foot into the right position with the side of his shoe. When I picked up the weights, he corrected my grip, fingers light around my wrist. The touch was brief, professional if anyone had been watching, but it stayed with me long after he stepped back.
“Like that,” he said, calm, encouraging.
I nodded and started my set, counting under my breath. My focus kept slipping. I could feel him watching me, his attention steady, not judging. Every so often, he’d murmur something soft, a low “good” or “yeah, right there,” and it went straight through me. My muscles burned. My breath went shallow. I liked knowing he was seeing me try.
When we switched, I stepped aside with a towel and pretended to be invested in wiping my hands. Jason took my place, and I let myself look. There was no one close enough to notice. He moved with an ease that felt earned, not showy. His shoulders shifted under his skin as he worked, back muscles tightening and releasing in a rhythm that made my mouth go dry. I followed the line of his arms without guilt, without shame. Why would I feel ashamed? I told myself I was allowed this. I told myself to take it in while I could. The thought passed through me like a shadow and was gone before I could decide whether it meant anything.
We finished with ab crunches on the mats, side by side. The exertion left us both flushed, sweat slick on my spine, my shirt clinging in a way that made me too aware of my own body. Jason laughed when I lost count and started over, breathless and bright. The sound did something to my chest. I wanted to stay right there, on the floor, breathing the same air as him, suspended in that loose, spent feeling.
Back in the locker room, the crowd had thinned. The noise dropped to a distant hum. I peeled my clothes off and stood in my underwear, skin cooling fast. This time, I didn’t look away. Jason was a few lockers down, unhurried, pulling his shirt over his head. His body was familiar to me now, but seeing it here still felt like a small shock. He caught me watching, and his mouth curved, pleased, almost cocky. He rolled his shoulders once, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.
We headed for the showers together, tile cold under our feet. The space was empty, steam hanging faintly in the air from earlier. I reached for a stall and felt Jason’s hand close around mine before I could step inside. The contact sent a sharp, immediate pull through my gut.
He leaned in, close enough that I could smell soap and sweat and him. When he kissed me, it was brief, just a press of mouths, but my whole body reacted like it had been waiting for permission. He shifted, clearly intending to follow me into the stall,confident and sure in a way that made my pulse jump and ache at the same time.
“No,” I said, too quickly, then softer. “Not here.” I swallowed, aware of how thin my voice sounded. “Um. You’ll walk me home, okay?”
He grinned, easy and unbothered, and nodded.
He did walk me to the Thinkers’ House some twenty minutes later, although I had spent most of that time in the shower, naked and aware of him on the other side of the wall, whistling and singing. When he heard my shower going off, he splashed me with water over the wall, simply reminding me that he was there and aware of me, too.
Some part of me had to admit the point of pride when I entered the house with Jason next to me. Rowan was in the living room, a pillow in his lap and a notebook on top of it, scribbling notes for the next campaign. “Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Dud the Cave Troll?” he asked as I shut the door. “I could smell you from a mile away.”
“Dud clean. Shiny knight make Dud shower,” Jason said in the troll’s deep, excited voice.