What are we doing, love?
I blink, fighting the urge to shake my head like a dog. To dislodge the misfired déjà vu that sweeps through me when I kiss him again, melding my body tighter to him as he kisses me back, and Christ I love how this feels. How my heart races and my blood zips.
He’s still breathing hard. I pull back to look at him again and brace my arm above us, pressing my forehead to his. I could do this forever. And I want to tell him that. But I need to hear that gasp he makes when I touch him. That tortured, strangled groan when he comes. It blows my mind I’ve only heard those sounds once in my life. It makes no fucking sense.
Sol’s leg is hooked around my hip. He slowly lowers it and his lips part. “Jack?—”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Gods, no. I?—”
I don’t let him finish. And I know it’s wrong. I know whatever he’s about to say matters. But a beat of panic flares in me, barbed and bright, a charged fear that if he speaks, this fragile momentum will fracture into something I don’t have the language for yet.
So I seal his mouth shut.
Again.
As if his voice isn’t the only sound I heard when I was so far from being alive only he could show me the way back.
“Tell me to stop.” I murmur the words into the back of my hand. That’s how close we are, breath tangled, bodies flush. “Tell me to stop. Or how to do this better.”
Sol doesn’t answer. But conflict rages in his shimmering gaze, emotion dancing on the battlefield, even as his hips shift and his hands slide up my back, fingers digging in, those ragged breaths still stacked and short, as if his body has already left whatever he’s thinking in the dust.
I try again, to put my own mental chaos into words. “Tell me tostop,” I repeat, third time’s a charm, eh? “I don’t want to talk about anything else—Sol, I just want to feel good. I wantyouto feel good. You gonna let yourself have that?”
A heavy pause expands, thick and dangerous.
A lifetime, but a brief one.
Sol nods, slow and deliberate, and this time, I let him speak.
“Yes.”
That’s it.
All I need to hear.
Everything accelerates. Propels forward. Clothes shift, heat builds, and the universe narrows until there’s nothing but a press and grind that has my head spinning clean off my shoulders.
I’m achingly aware of how right this feels. Of how certain my body is of every move I make.
My hands roam with intention.
I crowd Sol on the bed and he lets me, pupils blown wide, his gaze fixed on my face as if I’m the only solid mass left in his world. I learn again how much he likes my rough touch, my bigger frame pinning him down, and my teeth bruising his flesh.It makes me think of the bruise on his shoulder, but I know I didn’t cause that, if only because I find better places to bite him.
“Jackie—fuck.” Sol’s rare curse is barely audible. The way his body flexes, chasing friction, is so much fucking louder.
I have his sweatpants shoved down his thighs. His cock is free and hard, and I feel the heat of it before I touch it. Before I hold it in my hand and apply enough pressure that his whole body jerks, and he curses again, his hand flying to my wrist.
He’s shaking.
I simmer down, giving him a second. But that’s brief too. Sol hauls me back in and I grit down on a groan as he slides a hand below my waistband and finds my dick.
Our arms entwine, curving around each other. He tightens his fingers and I don’t know how I’m going to focus enough to bring him pleasure while he’s holding me like this. How I’ll ever think beyond the searing heat of him gripping my cock.
He hasn’t shaved in a few days.
I like it. I nuzzle his jaw as I contemplate a reality I can’t ignore. One I probably should’ve thought about before now, but my brain doesn’t work like that anymore.