"More," I beg. "Please, Silas."
He pulls out further, pushes back in deeper. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. The rhythm builds, still slow but purposeful. Each thrust hits the spot and I can't control the sounds I'm making.
"Look at you," he breathes. "So beautiful. Taking me so perfectly."
"Harder. Please."
Something shifts in him, the restraint giving way. He pulls almost all the way out, thrusts back in hard. I cry out, nails digging into his shoulders.
"Yes, like that —"
He sets a steady rhythm, deep and purposeful. Each thrust draws sounds from me, gasps, moans, his name. His hand finds mine, pins it to the mattress beside my head, fingers interlaced. Being fucked and held at the same time.
"Close," I gasp. "So close —"
"Not yet." He slows and I whine. "Want to feel you come just from this. Can you do that for me?"
"I don't — I've never —"
"I think you can." He adjusts the angle, hitting my prostate with every thrust now, relentless and precise. "You're so sensitive. So responsive."
The pressure builds, different from before, deeper, something that starts at the base of my spine and radiates outward.
"Oh god," I breathe. "Oh fuck, Silas, I think — I'm gonna —"
"Let go. I've got you."
I come untouched, a sound tearing out of me that I've never heard myself make. My whole body arches, clenching around him, and the wave goes on and on while he fucks me through it, his rhythm faltering.
"Fuck, Dev — I'm —"
"Inside," I gasp. "Want to feel you."
He buries himself deep and comes with a groan that vibrates through both of us, his hands tightening around mine. I feel the pulse of him, the warmth, and it's intimate in a way no book prepared me for. Having someone that close. Being chosen that completely.
We lie tangled, breathing. He's still inside me, softening, and neither of us moves. His mouth presses lazy kisses to my shoulder, my neck.
"Holy shit," he says eventually.
"Yeah."
He laughs, shaky and warm. Pulls out carefully, cleans us both up with a tenderness that makes my throat tight.
Then he pulls me against him, my back to his chest, his arm around my waist. His chin rests on the top of my head. I fit against him the way I always fit against him.
"Good?" he asks softly. "I didn't hurt you?"
"No. You didn't hurt me."
"Dev?" His arm tightens. "You okay?"
"I'm perfect."
But I'm not.
I'm lying in the arms of the best person I've ever known, and the lie is sitting in my chest like a coal.
Twice. A while ago.