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Ethan moans quietly as his hands slide up my chest to my shoulders, and then his arms wind around my neck.

“So good,” he whispers against my mouth.

“Have you ever felt like this before?” I murmur against his.

He shakes his head, causing our slips to squish together even more.

“How does being gay feel right now?” I ask, sliding my lips to his jawline. I slowly kiss up to his ear.

He exhales shakily and tightens his grip on me.

“Free.” He presses his chest against mine and tilts his head down into the crook of my neck. I nuzzle his hair and breathe him in. His scent is musky, sweaty, perfect…

I feel my cock hardening, and his as well against my thigh, but I also hear him falling back asleep.

Even as the sun starts to rise, I close my eyes and start to drift back to sleep, too.

There’s something so different about this moment compared to the intensity of how badly I want to claim him every second, dominate him, own him, contrasted with how soft he feels in my arms, how gentle his touch was when he was cleaning my wounds.

It’s easy right now to let everything go, and just be here and now.

“So you hate horror movies, but you’re essentially living in one?” Ethan asks as we stand in the kitchen together. He’s leaning against a counter, and I’m over the stovetop, stirring butter into a pot of noodles.

“I think my life is more like a soap,” I say. “I don’t hate horror movies; I just think they’re for people who can’t get real heart-pumping action in real life.”

Ethan smiles softly. “That’s most people.”

“Lemme guess, you like that shit?” I raise a brow.

He rolls his eyes. “No. I’ll watch it, but I don’t gravitate toward it myself.” He pauses and looks toward the window, where the dull sunlight is peeking through the curtains. “Whatdoyou like to watch?”

I grab the seasonings and cheese from the nearby counter and start pouring them into the pot. “I don’t have a lotta time to watch stuff,” I admit. “When I do, I guess…medical dramas.”

He snorts. “Really?”

I glare at him. “What?”

“I just wouldn’t have taken you for someone who’s into that.”

I add in the grilled chicken and spinach. “Alright, what did you take me for?”

“Racing, maybe. Like theFast and Furiousmovies,” he says thoughtfully.

“I’ve seen ’em, yeah. You into that?” I start to plate everything, which is mostly just dumping the pasta onto two paper plates.

“Not particularly,” he says quietly. “But Lena is really into those movies.”

I pause what I’m doing for a second, ignoring the ache of jealousy. There’s no reason for me to care about her anymore. They’re broken up, and we’re together.

“Really? Wouldn’t have expected that,” I mumble.

It’s quiet for a long moment, the tension suddenly rising.

“Dante, would you really have hurt Lena?” Ethan asks.

“I never threatened to hurt her,” I insist.

“You did threaten her, though,” he retorts. “What else could that have been about?”