mark—but it’s one that will last, and he kisses it before he pulls back up.
“I want you,” Avery says. “I’m so fucking stretched out, and I want to feel your dick inside me.”
Alejandro swears under his breath—in Spanish, in English. It’s a mess of sounds that are full of his need as his hands fumble for a condom. He’ll do this bare one day, he thinks as he snaps open the lube cap with his thumb. They’ll get tested, and then he’ll sink inside Avery and spill then use his cock to hold his come inside until he’s too soft to stay there any longer.
In spite of having lovers before, of having been married before, no one has ever made him feel the way Avery does. It’s fire running under his skin. It’s feeling his own heartbeat in the tips of his fingers in a repeating rhythm that’s proving he’s still alive.
The beat only gets stronger as he pushes Avery onto his stomach. He spreads his legs carefully then works the plug out. His hole gapes—it’s shiny and slick in the light from under the door, and he slides two fingers in and feels the way Avery closes around him.
He can’t stop his groan, and he doesn’t bother trying. The noises are dragged from his chest, and he doesn’t mind that Avery hears them. He wants to be weak. He wants to be anyone other than himself. He wants to give Avery pieces of his soul that no one has ever gotten to see.
“Please,” Avery says, and it’s starting to become Alejandro’s favorite word. He pulls his fingers out and adjusts himself, then pushes Avery up by the hips and thrusts forward.
He fits more perfectly this time. It’s still just as tight, and Avery groans as he fucks back against him, which sends his eyes rolling upward. God, god. It’s so good.
“Need you.” The words escape like a waterfall of secrets bursting through the barrier he’s been holding up for so long. His fingers are holding so tight it has to hurt, but Avery doesn’t complain. No, instead he gets his knees under him and pushes up on his elbows and meets Alejandro thrust for thrust. “Want you. Can’t get enough. Want this to be forever.” He’s not really sure what language he’s using. His brain is a mess of sounds, his body overwhelmed with sensation that he’s shied away from for too long. He’s so close, and there’s no way he’s going to be able to stop the orgasm that’s barreling forward.
He realizes that Avery’s hand is flying over his own cock, that his knees are shaking, that he’s only being held upright by Alejandro’s hands. And that sends him over the edge. He thrusts once. Twice. On the third, he holds it, pressing himself as deep as he can go. Avery’s back arches, and Alejandro catches him around the chest and pulls him up so he’s seated on his cock. It’s deep—fuck, it’s so deep. He feels like he might burst through the condom, and the idea of filling Avery like that sends another ripple of pleasure through him.
The moment feels frozen in time: no one breathes, the clock stops ticking. And then he tilts his head down and presses his open mouth to the crook of Avery’s neck and holds him there.
“I don’t want this to end,” Avery says.
The words sound wrecked and raw—terrified. Alejandro holds him a little tighter and shakes his head because this is such a fucking mess. It was not supposed to be this way. But it is what it is—and he knows damn well he has no power to fight the current.
“We need sleep.” He wants to tell him other things—that he has no plans of letting him go. That he’s not going to be able to breathe again until he knows there’s at least hope for more. But he can’t do that now. They need rest.
Everything else can wait.
He eases Avery down then slips out and pulls the condom off. His hands feel like they’re covered in a layer of invisible mess, and he needs to wash off, so he escapes to the bathroom and uses his soap and warm water to scrub the feeling away. He pretends like he can see it, a sort of coating over his skin, washing off and swirling down the drain. He breathes easier when it’s gone.
There’s a stack of flannels on the shelf, so he runs one under warm water and uses his rose