Page 32 of Finding Gideon (Foggy Basin Season Two)

Gideon

I didn’t even realize how close Malcolm had gotten until I could feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek.

“I’m not rushing you,” he murmured.

“I know.” I turned my face toward his, let my eyes rest on his mouth. “But I want to.”

His gaze swept over my face like he was checking every signal twice. He was a vet, not a mind reader, but he could’ve fooled me.

“We can stop anytime, Gideon. Say the word, and I’ll hold you instead.”

“I don’t want to stop,” I said, and my voice didn’t shake.

Malcolm nodded. He kissed me—gently, reverently—but I felt the restraint behind it. The carefulness. He kissed like a man who could lose himself in it but wouldn’t. Not until he was sure I wouldn’t get lost, too.

“Is this what you really want?”

“Yeah.” I smiled, nerves and want tangled in my chest. “I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you.”

That unlocked something in him. He kissed me like he’d been holding back for years, like kissing me was the thing that might save him. When he pulled back, his pupils were blown wide, and his voice dropped low. “Gideon…”

“Take it off,” I said, tugging at the hem of his T-shirt. “I want to see you.”

He helped me take off his T-shirt and toss it aside. Heat rolled off him, the solid expanse of his chest right there in front of me. Broad and strong, muscles shifting under skin dusted with dark hair that trailed down to his stomach. My fingers itched to touch, to map every inch.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” I said.

His chest rose on a rough breath. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

Malcolm’s hands moved to my shirt next, and together we stripped each other down, laughing a little when I got stuck in my jeans, groaning when his belt buckle refused to cooperate.

“Can’t believe I’m being outmaneuvered by denim,” he muttered.

“Maybe you need more practice.”

“Oh, I plan to get plenty.”

When we were naked in bed, he leaned over me, his hands braced on either side of my head. His cock brushed my thigh—hard and hot and heavy—and I felt my breath catch.

“Before we go further,” he murmured, voice low, “I should say—I’m negative. Last test was earlier this year, and I haven’t been with anyone since before moving here.”

Relief curled warm in my chest. “You know I’ve never been with anyone before, but if you’d feel better, I’ll get tested too.”

I wasn’t sure why saying it felt so big, like trust made tangible, a vow offered in the dark. A step closer to the kind of closeness I craved with him.

“There’s no need, baby.” Malcolm kissed my knee, then the inside of my thigh, his stubble catching on my skin and sending shivers down my spine.

The words and the tenderness behind them sank into me just as much as his touch did, making my breath catch and my heart ache—in the best way.

“I’ve got lube and condoms in the drawer,” I said.

He pulled a bottle from the drawer beside the bed.

I nodded, a little breathless. “I read everything.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice dipped low, teasing. “Tell me what you learned.”

I swallowed. “That it’s not supposed to hurt. That lube is essential. That talking is important. And…” My hand found his wrist, needing the anchor. “That I want this—with you. I want you inside me.”

That stilled him, like he was taking in the weight of my words. His palm slid across my cheek, warm and certain.

“You have me.”

His hands weren’t clinical, even though he was a doctor. They were reverent. Curious. He smiled, soft but a little undone. “Anything you want to try? Or avoid?”

“I just want you,” I said. My voice shook, not from fear but from how much I meant it. “But slow. At first.”

He nodded, slicked up his fingers, and kissed me again before shifting lower. The first press of his finger at my hole made me tense. He noticed instantly.

“Breathe, Gid.” His voice was low and sweet. “It’s just me. Just us.”

I let out the breath I’d been holding and nodded. He pushed in slowly, his finger warm and slick, easing past tight muscle. It burned, but not bad. More pressure than pain.

“Doing okay?” he murmured.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s just… different.”

He worked me open with such care I almost couldn’t stand it. One finger, then two, fucking me slow and steady until I was squirming. He kissed across my hip, then my stomach.

“Fuck, look at you,” he said. “You’re going to ruin me.”

I laughed, breathless. “Better not come before you even get inside me.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He slicked the condom over his dick—long and thick and flushed at the tip—and stroked himself once, twice.

“You ready?”

“God, yes.”

He lined up and pressed in. My body clenched instinctively, and I bit my lip, my hand on his shoulder like an anchor.

“Slow,” I panted.

“We’ll go at your pace,” he promised. “Nothing matters but you right now.”

It was too much at first. Too big. Too full. My breath hitched sharply, and I clutched at his arm like it was the only thing keeping me grounded.

He kissed my cheek, murmuring low against my skin. “Easy, baby. I’ve got you. You want me to stop?”

“No,” I panted, shaking my head. “Don’t you dare stop. Just—slow.”

His hand smoothed over my chest, steadying me as he eased in another inch. My body fought it, then gave, opening around him by degrees. Every new stretch lit me up with fire and ache until it started to melt into something deeper, heavier.

“Fuck, Gideon,” he groaned, his voice thick. “You’re taking me so fucking well. So tight around me. Jesus.”

“Keep going,” I whispered, desperate now. “Please, Mal. I need it.”

He pushed in further, filling me in ways I hadn’t even imagined, until finally—finally—he bottomed out. The stretch was still intense, but it was all him, all the way inside me, and it felt like I’d carved out a space in my body that had always been waiting for him.

“Goddamn,” he rasped, forehead pressed to mine. “You’re perfect. You feel like heaven.”

“Move,” I begged, the word breaking on a gasp.

He pulled back slow and drove in again, deeper this time, and my vision went white around the edges.

“You feel this?” His voice was rough, filthy, exactly what I needed. “Feel how I’m inside you? Filling you up?”

“All of you,” I groaned. “Every inch. “You’re so deep— fuck , don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He fucked me like he’d been waiting for this, for me, for so long he couldn’t hold back anymore. His rhythm grew uneven. My hips rolled up to meet his.

“Gideon,” he growled. “I’m close.”

I was already there, jerking myself roughly, and when I came, it hit me so hard I saw white. My whole body arched. My hole clenched tight around him, and with a strangled cry, Malcolm spilled inside me, biting down on my shoulder as he came.

We collapsed in a messy heap, panting, sweaty, trembling.

“Holy shit,” I said.

“That’s the medical term,” he muttered, still catching his breath. “God, you were… amazing.”

“Next time,” I said, eyes still closed, “I want to top.”

Malcolm chuckled, low and wrecked. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want to feel you underneath me.”

He pulled me in closer. “Baby, you can have me any way you want.”

We stayed tangled in each other for a while, skin sticky, hearts still racing.

Malcolm was heavy on top of me, but I didn’t care. His weight felt good . Grounding. Like he’d finally settled into the space I’d quietly saved for him.

Eventually, he shifted enough to slide out, murmuring an apology I barely heard over the soft, satisfied hum I made.

“Back in a sec,” he whispered, kissing my temple.

He padded to the bathroom, and I stared at the ceiling like it might offer some explanation for what just happened.

Because holy shit .

A few minutes later, he returned with a warm cloth and a small smile. “Stay put, I’ve got you.”

“God, yes.” I groaned as he gently wiped me down. “This part right here? Might be the hottest thing you’ve done all night.”

He grinned. “That’s a high bar. You called me ‘Doctor Malcolm’ when you came.”

I choked. “Did not.”

“Oh, you did. Very respectfully too.”

“Shut up.” I yanked the pillow over my face. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

I peeked at him. “Fine. I tolerate you. Barely.”

Malcolm laughed, climbed back into bed, and dragged me against his chest, my back pressed to his front. His arms locked around me like he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

God help me, I didn’t want him to.

“Are you okay?” he asked after a beat. His voice was quieter now, thoughtful.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think… I’m more than okay.”

“You were perfect,” he said, nose brushing behind my ear. “Brave, open, so damn sexy I almost forgot my name.”

“You didn’t seem to forget your vocabulary,” I muttered, cheeks burning. “Who knew the good doctor had such a filthy mouth?”

He chuckled, low and warm. “I’m a man of many talents.”

I shifted to face him. “Speaking of… Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He traced a finger along my jaw. “I never expected this . You. Us. But now that it’s real? I’m not letting it go.”

“I don’t want you to.”

Everything unsaid swelled in the silence between heartbeats.

Then Malcolm, the smug bastard, added, “And just so we’re clear… Next time, when you top, you better not go easy on me.”

“Oh? You want it rough, huh?”

“Surprise me.”

I grinned. “Careful, Doc. I’m younger, hungrier, and still have something to prove.”

Malcolm leaned in, kissed me slowly. “Prove it tomorrow. Tonight, we cuddle.”

We did. He pulled the blankets over us, legs tangled together, one of his hands flat on my back, the other holding mine under the covers.

And in the quiet that followed, I realized something.

I wasn’t running anymore.

I’d found someone who saw me—every awkward, terrified, messy part—and didn’t flinch. A man who’d let me come apart in his arms and still held me after.

Maybe it didn’t have to be a fantasy.

Maybe this was what healing looked like.

And maybe—just maybe—it started with letting someone stay.