Page 139 of Eternal

“With your belt around my neck?” My voice cracks, but I don’t pull away

His breath brushes my skin and I’m drowning in it. “Exactly.”

I reach back, fingers grazing his thigh, trembling because this is stupid and terrifying and addicting all at once.

“Would you die for me, Damir?” The words come out before I can stop them. A sick, desperate test.

Because I’ve lived through so much that screamed ‘no one will save you.’

But if he would die for me? Maybe I’m not so alone. He stills, then tightens the belt a little more.

“I would,” he says, like it’s the only truth in the world. “You trust me?” His voice is so close I feel it in my bones.

I close my eyes, and I’m naked with all my fears and scars and twisted hopes. “Yes.”

The belt squeezes a little more.

I should panic.

I should fight.

But instead, I let go.

Because maybe this is how broken people heal.

Because maybe this is love, jagged, dangerous, and raw.

My breath shortens, and my fingers shake.

I tilt my head, because I want to trust him like this. I want to fall apart and be held at the same time.

“Breathe slowly,” he whispers.

I do, and I float, like I’m caught between something dark and something beautiful, like I’m breaking, but for once it’s okay.

“I feel like I’m floating,” I whisper, voice ragged. “Like I could pass out.”

“Say the word,” he says, “ Blue . Say blue if you want me to stop.”

My heart’s a wild thing I can’t tame. “I don’t think I’ll be able to speak.”

He smiles that fucking smile, the one that knows exactly what I want before I do. “Exactly what I was hoping for.”

I don’t say the word.

Because with him, falling isn’t falling.

It’s flying. And I trust him enough to dive.

“You trust me?” He asks again.

“I do.”

He loosens the belt merely enough.

My knees wobble, and he catches me, like I’m glass. He lays me across his lap, the belt still around my neck like a fragile promise.

He cradles me. “Whenever you feel too far gone,” he whispers, “I’ll bring you back.”

The belt tightens again, not suddenly. Slowly. Precisely. Enough so that I could feel it.

Not enough to pass out, but enough to want to . Enough that my lungs start to ache but in a relaxing way. His hand slides lower, across my hip, down my thigh.

And then back up, between my legs, knuckles brushing heat.

Not teasing. Not even trying to get me off.

Claiming .

My mouth falls open. I can’t make a sound.

Because there’s no air. Only him .

His fingers press gently into the soft skin of my inner thigh, holding me open, owning the way I tremble. The way I trust him. The way I want this.

“Look at you,” he murmurs against my neck. His lips graze my pulse point, or where it would be, if I had one right now. “You’re perfect like this.”

I whimper, or try to. But no breath means no voice. And I love that.

Love that I can’t say a word. Love that I’m giving him everything simply by staying still, by letting him guide me deeper into this place where pain doesn’t live, only quiet, and heat, and safety.

His hand strokes higher.

“You shouldn’t be thankful for me,” he whispers, voice rough now, cracking a little with how much he’s holding back. “I’m thankful for you. ”

The belt shifts in his hand. Not loosening. simply moving. “I’m so fucking thankful for you,” he goes on, kissing the corner of my jaw. “For trusting me. For being here. For looking so pretty with your neck in my hand. Letting me choke you like this.”

He tightens it again, and the world gets hazy. Warm.

No panic. No fear. Pure stillness .

Like I could stay here forever, right between our heartbeats.

I sink into the pressure, into his hands, into the way he holds me like I’m a gift he can barely believe he gets to unwrap.

His mouth finds mine then, a kiss that’s soft, so soft, which makes it all the more unbearable.

Like he knows how close I am to unraveling.

Like he wants to watch me come apart without ever taking more than I give.

And I give him everything .

Because this is the safest danger I’ve ever known.

The belt stays snug around my throat. And maybe that’s what I wanted. Not to be broken, only to be held together by him . Compressed into a single point of pressure where nothing else exists but his body and my pulse under his fingers.

His mouth doesn’t stop kissing me.

Not rushed. Not greedy.

Slow, deliberate presses, lips, jaw, neck, collarbone, like he’s memorizing me by contact alone.

His hips shift against mine, once.

I feel it, the friction of denim on fabric, the slow push of him into me. And something clicks in my body, low and desperate.

I move against him. Instinct. Need . Something wild and quiet, the way a prayer is whispered, not screamed.

He groans into my mouth.

And then he does it again.

Rolls his hips against me, controlled. Measured . Like he’s counting each movement, drawing it out.

His palm cups my thigh, guiding it higher around his waist, holding me close.

And my back arches, airless, caught between the choke and the grind and the fact that I feel everything . Every inch of him. Every breath I don’t take.

His forehead presses to mine. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he whispers. “You don’t even know.”

I can’t respond. But my body does.

I rock against him, small, helpless movements, trying to pull him closer, trying to dissolve into the rhythm.

He tightens the belt just a breath more.

“Stay with me,” he says softly. “ Feel me.”

And I do.

I feel the rub of his jeans, the heat building between us. I feel how hard he is. I feel how wet I am, soaked through my underwear, like my body’s gone on without me.

I feel the dizzy floating edge of something that almost release. But not quite. Not yet.

Because this isn’t about finishing. It’s about surrendering . Stars bloom behind my eyes. Pressure crests like a wave about to break. I can’t speak. Can’t breathe.

But I feel it, the snap, the soft explosion, the way my body gives in like a fault line cracking open under him. I come. Quiet. Violent. Shaking.

He feels it.

He follows.

His whole body shudders as he grinds into me one last time deep, and slow as he lets out a groan like it’s being dragged from his chest. Like he’s falling with me.

We stay locked like that for a moment, hips still, breath staggered, hearts pounding and then, slowly, gently, he loosens the belt.

Air rushes back in.

I gasp like the first breath after a long dive.

His arms slide under me.

He pulls me up, into his lap, into his chest. One hand still loosely holding the belt, the other pressed flat against my back like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

His forehead leans against mine.

And he kisses me.

Soft this time. Kiss after kiss, mouth to mouth, nose to cheek, like he’s giving me my oxygen back in pieces.

When he finally pulls back, there’s that look again, the one he only gives me.

“Did you like it?” he asks quietly, thumb brushing my jaw.

I tilt my head. Smile, hazy. Spent . “Mmm,” I hum, resting against him. “I did.”

Then he leaned back a little, brushing my thigh with his knuckles. “I wanna take you somewhere tonight.”

I blinked. “Yeah?”

He nodded once. “Your birthday’s soon.”

My chest tightened. I didn’t say anything. I smiled, softer now.

“Okay,” I whispered.