Page 57 of Caden & Theo

My stomach coils. My thighs tense. I’m so close, and the only thing I want is to come whispering his name like a prayer. But I grit my teeth, trying to hold back, the fire of it building behind my eyes.

“Theo,” I rasp. Just his name. Nothing else. My voice is wrecked.

He hums around me, and that’s it. I fall. Not loudly. Not dramatically. But inside, it’s a crash. A beautiful, blinding collapse.

When I finally open my eyes again, Theo is resting his cheek against my hip, looking up at me with a small, smug smile.

“Happy Draft Day,” he says, soft and cocky at the same time.

I huff out a shaky laugh. “You’re gonna kill me.”

He moves leisurely, kissing my stomach, my chest, then my lips, like he’s putting me back together. “I hope not,” he says, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “We’ve still got years to go.”

I pull him close and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. My hands slide down his back, fitting over the curve of his hips.“Come here,” I murmur, voice rough. “Climb up. Let me take care of you.”

Theo’s eyes turn molten. He hesitates for half a second—just long enough to confirm he heard me right—then moves, smooth and sure. He straddles my waist with a confidence that makes my breath catch. His knees press into the mattress on either side of me, and he shuffles forward and lowers himself slowly, settling across my chest.

The weight of him grounds me. His skin is warm against mine, and I let my hands roam against his skin, dragging my palms up his thighs before palming his ass. He shudders.

I tilt my head up, urging him forward, then dragging my mouth across his balls until he’s squirming. I love how responsive he is—always have. Every sigh, every twitch of his body, every subtle shift of his hips tells me exactly what he needs.

“You look so good like this,” I whisper. “Always do.”

Theo leans down, catching my eyes. His lips are red, eyes glazed. “Then don’t stop,” he says softly.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

His breath catches as he dips his hips forward and I mouth his cock, urging him deeper. I adjust his angle and mine, giving him more access, letting him move the way he needs.

We don’t rush it.

It’s messy, and hot, and good—better than good—and all the while, I keep my eyes on him. Every flicker of emotion, every soft curse, every whispered, “Caden,” makes something twist sweet and sharp in my chest.

I love him.

God, I love him.

And when he falls apart, his cum spurting deep in my throat, gasping against the bedhead, shaking with the force of it, I hold his thighs, cradling him through it, drinking him down.

He pulls out and collapses on top of me. We’re both slumped against the mattress, breathing like we just ran drills. We don’t say anything for a minute. We just lie here, pressed together, my hand on his back, his thumb brushing lazy circles over my hip like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he stops.

Eventually, he huffs a soft laugh. “Well. That was… celebratory.”

“Understatement of the year,” I say, grinning into his shoulder. “It kinda sucks we need to get moving.”

True. I nod in response and press a kiss to his lips. “We really do.”

We clean up in the bathroom, trading towel swipes and teasing smirks. My legs are still half Jell-O, and Theo’s hair is a mess—completely my fault. He tries to tame it with water, but I stop him. “Leave it,” I murmur. “It’s perfect.”

He rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t touch it again. We both know we’ve pushed our luck timewise. So we straighten our clothes, check for signs of anything obvious, and head for the door.

I glance back once as I open it. Theo does too. There’s something in his eyes—satisfaction, affection, disbelief. He leans in before either of us can overthink it, catching my mouth in a kiss that’s supposed to be quick but lingers anyway.

It’s instinct, not strategy. Just a tiny, helpless moment between us.

And of course, that’s when we hear someone clear their throat.

We both freeze.