Page 35 of After the Rain
The sound of our bodies meeting—wet, desperate, consuming—filled the room, matched only by the sounds he made: gasps, groans, whispered fragments of my name.
“I want to feel you come,” I said, reaching between us to stroke his cock. “I want to feel your body fall apart around my cock.”
He was already close—his body tightening, hips stuttering, eyes glazed.
“ Ezra— ” he cried, breath breaking. “I—fuck—I’m?—”
“Let go,” I said, thrusting harder. “Give it to me.”
He came with a shout, thick ropes spilling across his stomach and chest, his hole tightening around me so hard it dragged me over the edge. I came with a groan, burying myself deep inside him as my whole body trembled with the force of it.
For a moment, the world disappeared—just the heat of our bodies, the wild beat of our hearts, the breathless tangle of limbs.
After, I collapsed beside him, pulling him into my arms, our bodies sticky with sweat and come and something that felt dangerously close to forever.
Wade traced lazy circles over my chest, his breathing still uneven. “What do we even call this?” he murmured.
I kissed his temple. “Home. We call it home.”
The next morning brought the surreal pleasure of waking up in Wade's bed, his arm around my waist, morning light filtering through curtains I'd helped him choose during a stolen afternoon of domesticity.
He was still sleeping, his face peaceful in a way I'd rarely seen during our months of careful friendship.
I watched him wake slowly, golden morning light cutting across the bed as Wade blinked himself into awareness. His eyes found mine with immediate warmth, no hesitation—just the soft glow of someone exactly where he wanted to be.
No awkwardness. No regret. Just that quiet, shared knowing: we chose this. And we’d choose it again.
“Good morning,” he murmured, voice still gravel-thick with sleep, his face soft and stunning in the early light.
“Good morning yourself.” I reached over to touch his cheek, letting my thumb graze the stubble there. He leaned into the touch like he didn’t want it to end.
There was a pause, long enough for us both to hear the rhythm of each other’s breathing. Then Wade leaned in, slow and sure, and kissed me. Just once. Then again, deeper.
The second kiss lit something between us, warm and patient—but hungry too. When his body shifted over mine, I didn’t hesitate for a second to open up beneath him.
But Wade paused, bracing himself on his forearms as he looked down at me, lips flushed, breath uneven.
“I want to do this right,” he said quietly. “Last night… we didn’t really think about anything except finally having each other. But this time…”
He trailed off and leaned over to his nightstand, opening the drawer and rummaging around until he found a small, bottle of lube. He held it up sheepishly, like he wasn’t sure if it was presumptuous.
He slicked his fingers and reached between my legs, his touch gentler now, slower.
His fingers circled my hole with reverence, spreading the lube, teasing me open with a patience that made my whole body melt into the mattress.
He took his time, one finger at first, then another, watching every twitch of pleasure that passed across my face.
“You feel so good,” he whispered, almost reverent. “I can’t believe I get to touch you like this.”
I moaned softly, my hips rocking into his hand, aching for more.
“Wade…”
“I’ve got you,” he promised, leaning down to kiss the corner of my mouth, then my jaw, then the sensitive spot just below my ear.
When he finally lined himself up and began to slide in, I felt everything—every stretch, every inch, every beat of his heart pounding in sync with mine. His cock filled me so perfectly, gently but with purpose, and I exhaled a shaky breath as he bottomed out.
“Jesus, Ezra,” he groaned, forehead resting against mine. “You’re so tight. So fucking perfect.”
We stayed still for a moment, just breathing, letting our bodies learn each other again—but this time softer, more grounded. Then he began to move, slow and deep, every thrust a deliberate act of devotion.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, urging him closer, needing him deeper.
His rhythm built gradually, dragging his cock along that perfect place inside me again and again, sending waves of pleasure through my body that made my toes curl and my back arch.
“Just like that,” I gasped, my hands gripping his shoulders. “God, Wade—don’t stop.”
His mouth found mine again, swallowing every moan, every gasp. “You feel so good,” he said between kisses, his voice a broken whisper. “Your hole’s so warm, so fucking sweet around me.”
I moaned louder, lost to it, lost to him.
There was no rush. No frenzy. Just the kind of slow, aching intensity that built and built, every movement pushing us higher until my whole body trembled beneath him.
Wade's hand slid between us, wrapping around my cock, stroking me in rhythm with every thrust. It was too much—in the best possible way. The stretch of him inside me, the tenderness of his mouth on my skin, the heat of his palm guiding me toward the edge.
When I came, it was with his name on my lips and tears pricking my eyes, my whole body clenching around his cock as pleasure ripped through me like sunlight breaking open.
He followed moments later, groaning deep in his chest as he spilled inside me, holding me so tightly I thought we might never come apart.
When it was over, he stayed inside me, his weight comforting, grounding. He kissed my temple, my shoulder, the center of my chest.
We didn’t speak for a while. We didn’t need to.
Eventually, we untangled and made our way to the shower—where Wade proved he wasn’t quite done worshipping me yet. But that was a different kind of sweet chaos, full of laughter, slippery hands, and the kind of trust that couldn’t be faked.
Cooper's appearance in the kitchen created a moment of gentle testing as he observed Mr. Mitchell at their breakfast table.
"Did you have a sleepover, Mr. Mitchell?" Cooper asked, climbing into his usual chair with matter-of-fact curiosity. "That's cool. Can you help me with my cereal?"
The easy acceptance reassured both Wade and me that our relationship didn't threaten Cooper's security. If anything, he seemed pleased to have his favorite adult figures together in one place.
The school drop-off routine became charged with new intimacy as Wade and I navigated our first public interaction as lovers. Our careful professional distance was undermined by shared glances and barely suppressed smiles that made our connection obvious to anyone paying attention.
Mrs. Garrett's suspicious stare from across the parking lot confirmed that people were indeed watching.
"Call me later?" Wade asked quietly as Cooper ran toward the school entrance.
"Try to stop me," I replied, and his grin was worth whatever scrutiny we'd face.
That afternoon, Dr. Williams called me to her office with news I'd barely dared to hope for.
"The school board has voted to dismiss all complaints against you," she said without preamble. "Lack of evidence, overwhelming community support, and clear evidence of targeted harassment rather than legitimate professional concern."
The relief was so overwhelming I had to sit down.
"Your job is secure, Ezra. The board recognizes that this was an attempt to weaponize prejudice against a popular teacher, and they're not having it."
I called Wade immediately, unable to contain my excitement.
"This calls for celebration," he declared, his joy and relief matching my own. "Dinner, champagne, and a proper night together without worry hanging over us."
"I love the sound of that."
"I love you," he said simply, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
As I left school that afternoon, feeling professionally vindicated and personally hopeful, I looked forward to celebrating with Wade and Cooper. The future felt bright and possible in ways it hadn't since our troubles began.
But as I drove toward Wade's house, I didn't notice the car following at a distance, or the camera lens trained on my every move. Victory, it turned out, could make enemies more desperate.
And Mrs. Garrett wasn't finished with us yet.