And now I could think of nothing else.
I slicked up a finger, then brushed it over my hole, stifling a whimper.
It’s not my finger—it’s Theo’s.
I pushed the tip of my middle finger inside, biting back the moan that threatened to trip off my tongue. Deeper. Deeper, until it was as deep as it could go, and my dick was like stone in my hand.
Fuck me, Theo. Fill me. Stretch me. Let me feel you.
The words lit a fuse, and suddenly I was on fire.
I rocked up off the sofa, my hands synchronised, working together. When I got too close, I backed off, slowing the pace, not wanting the exquisite friction to end. I tried to keep a lid on the noise, but now and then a low moan escaped, and I’d freeze, listening for any sign that Theo was awake. When all I got was silence, I went back to it, fucking myself with my finger, working my shaft faster, the slick sound way too loud in the quiet flat.
Behind my eyelids, Theo leaned over me, his hair falling over his eyes, sweat glistening on his chest, the muscles on his upper arms bulging as he drove himself deeper into my body,his staccato breaths punctuating every thrust, his gaze locked on mine, lips parted.
I can feel you coming.
I tilted my head back into the pillow and shot hard, my finger locked inside my tight hole. Warmth spattered my stomach and chest, and I opened my eyes, panic racing through me.
I can’t get any of it on the sheets.
I pulled my finger free and sat up, my dick still jerking in my hand, pulsing out the final drops. I scanned the sheet below me, my breathing ragged, searching for any errant wet spots that might betray me.
It seemed whatever gods looked out for guys like me were on my side.
I sat there, my chest heaving, forcing myself to breathe evenly, one ear on Theo’s bedroom door.
No light shone through the gap at its base. No noise.
I didn’t know if I was relieved or disappointed.
I got up off the sofa, my legs trembling, and crept into the bathroom to perform a quick clean-up. I debated not flushing the toilet but decided I didn’t want to leave any trace of my nocturnal activity.
When I returned to the safety of the sofa, I pulled the sheet and blanket up to my neck, and took deep breaths, willing myself into a calmer state.
The quiet felt heavy, intimate, and yet alive.
The only sounds in this flat are the rhythm of two people breathing in separate rooms.
The thought made my chest ache.
Theo
I couldn’t sleep.
I’d hoped the long walk would have done the work for me, but the moment I turned off the light, my body had refused to shut down.
I could still feel the echo of the night, the weight of the rehearsal, Max’s words looping through my head.
Control isn’t safety. Sometimes it’s loneliness.
I’d tried to drown it out with order—folding clothes, straightening the bedside table, brushing my teeth twice—but it hadn’t helped. The moment I lay down, the quiet became too loud.
I rolled onto my side, my gaze fixed on the faint glow leaking through the gap under the door.
Cameron’s light.
I’d told myself I didn’t care if he stayed up drawing. But the truth was, part of me liked knowing someone else was awake in the flat. That there was another heartbeat in the silence. The thought made me uneasy, however.