Page 34 of Finding Gideon (Foggy Basin Season Two)

Malcolm

The door shut behind us with a solid click.

Finally, home. Finally, just us. Gideon didn’t even wait for me to drop my keys before his hands were on my face, his mouth crashing into mine in a kiss so hungry it stole the breath from my lungs.

I stumbled back a step, laughing into his mouth, but he didn’t let up.

His fingers slid into my hair. Mine found the hem of his shirt.

Somewhere between the wall and the hallway, he tugged it over his head. I didn’t even get a chance to look before he was kissing me again, open-mouthed and breathless, and I was walking backward blindly toward the bedroom.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he muttered against my jaw.

“Only all day?”

He grinned, bit at my neck. “Okay. Every hour.”

He shoved the bedroom door open, then we were tumbling onto the mattress. My hands roamed—his shoulders, his back, the ridges of his ribs. Every inch of him felt familiar and still somehow new. Like I could know him a hundred different ways and still not know enough.

This was ours now. Not just the bed. The whole room. His scent had settled into my pillow. His shirts were slung over my chair. His toothbrush leaned against mine in the cup by the sink.

His thigh slid between mine, his hips pressing down, and I gasped at the friction, the sheer contact.

The contrast between my dark skin and his lighter skin, his hands gripping my thighs like he never wanted to let go, was something so achingly beautiful.

Like proof that two opposites could fit, could belong.

I must’ve been quiet for too long, because Gideon leaned down, brushing his nose against mine. “What?” he whispered.

“Just thinking how good we look together,” I said, my voice low, unsteady with truth.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “We do.” His smile curved soft, tender, as he kissed me again.

It would’ve been easy to get lost in the kiss. In the way he moaned into my mouth, in the way he moved. But something tugged at the edges of that pleasure. A quiet insistence.

There were still things he didn’t know.

I hadn’t told him I loved him.

And I hadn’t let him all the way in—not like I wanted to.

He kissed down my neck, fingers slipping under my waistband. “You good?” he murmured.

I nodded. Then stopped.

He stilled. Lifted his head, eyes searching mine. “What is it?”

I hesitated, heat crawling up my throat at the weight of everything.

“I want you to… fuck me.”

For a beat, he went still, breath catching—not from shock, but from something softer, heavier. Then his mouth curved slowly, eyes warm. “Yeah?”

I nodded again, slower this time. “Yeah. I mean—I want to give you that. Give us that.”

His whole face lit with awe… with affection. It was as if he was seeing me for the first time all over again.

He kissed me. Gentle, then deep, like he was saying thank you with his mouth. My fingers trembled slightly as I tugged the rest of my clothes off. He followed, shedding his clothes one piece at a time, his eyes never leaving mine for long.

When I laid back against the pillows, he reached across to the drawer, pulled it open, and held up the plug. It was small, black, silicone—nothing intimidating. But the sight of it still made my pulse jump.

He caught it. “Too fast?”

“No. Just... nervous,” I admitted, heartbeat thudding in my throat.

“Okay. We’ll go slow.” He set it on the nightstand along with the lube, then leaned in and kissed me again. “You’ll tell me if anything doesn’t feel right.”

I nodded.

The bed dipped as he moved between my knees. His palms slid up my thighs, warm and grounding. Then he bent down, lips brushing my inner thigh, and whispered, “You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”

My breath caught. His voice was low, reverent. The kind of voice that made a man feel worshipped.

He kissed my hip, my stomach, my ribs—like his hands and mouth were working in tandem to calm the nerves buzzing through me.

“Still okay?”

“Yeah,” I breathed. “Feels good.”

“Just going to start with a finger.”

I nodded, hips shifting slightly.

The pressure was slow. Careful. He rubbed soothing circles on my thigh with one hand as he worked the other. The stretch made me gasp, not painful, just... different. I focused on his face —his concentration, the way he was reading every twitch of my muscles like a roadmap.

“Doing good,” he murmured. “You’re taking me so well.”

My heart stuttered. That kind of praise? From him ? It sent heat spiraling low in my belly.

He added more lube. More kisses. Slipped in another finger. I moaned, thighs trembling, hands gripping the sheets.

When he reached for the plug, I watched him coat it slowly, deliberately, like he was letting me see every step so nothing caught me off guard.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

I swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah.”

The plug was narrower than his fingers but firmer, and the pressure made my breath hitch. He didn’t rush it. One hand stroked my thigh, the other worked gently. Gideon eased it in with soft praise and low murmurs that felt like they were etched directly into my skin.

“You’re doing so good for me.”

My fingers curled into his shoulders. The burn gave way to fullness. He clicked something and a low hum thrummed through me, startling and warm.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

His grin was all pride and want. “That’s the lowest setting.”

I groaned. “You’re evil.”

“Just thorough.”

The vibration settled into a steady pulse, not overwhelming, just enough to make me clench around it. Gideon kissed my knee, then moved up to straddle my hips, eyes locked on mine.

“Are you still with me?”

“Always.”

He leaned in and kissed me—sweet, deep, lingering.

And I knew, without question, I was safe.

And I was his.

The toy thrummed inside me, each pulse a slow, deliberate reminder that I was open. Filled. Waiting.

Gideon moved like he had all night to worship me—his mouth trailing down my chest, across my ribs, his tongue dipping into the skin above my hip. His hands never stopped moving. One stayed on my thigh, stroking, soothing. The other skimmed my torso like he was trying to memorize the terrain.

Every press of his lips sent a ripple through my body. Every hum from the plug made my cock twitch.

I was hard—aching, actually—and the temptation to stroke myself was real. But I didn’t. Couldn’t. It would’ve been over too fast, and that wasn’t how I wanted to come tonight.

Not from the plug or from my own hand.

I wanted it to be Gideon. Inside me. Claiming me. Holding me open and close at the same time.

“God, Mal,” he murmured, his voice husky. “You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are right now.”

I wanted to answer, but words came out more like breath than sound. My hips arched off the bed when he kissed above the plug, his breath warm against the place where I needed him most.

“Still good?” he asked, gaze searching.

I nodded, panting. “Yeah. Just... Gideon.”

He smiled like he knew exactly what I meant. Then he reached for the base of the plug, twisting it slightly to increase the vibration.

I nearly sobbed. “Jesus.”

He laughed softly. “Not quite.”

The motion of the toy stirred something deep inside me—pleasure that built slow and intense, a heat that curled through my gut and down my thighs. My whole body was responding to him. For him. I felt pliant, yes—but not small. Not powerless.

Chosen.

Cherished.

His.

When Gideon finally slid the toy out, I shivered, muscles fluttering in protest at the loss. But then I saw him—reaching for the condom, pouring lube into his hand, stroking himself slowly while looking at me like I was the only thing that had ever made sense.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, voice low, reverent.

“Gideon. Please.”

He braced one hand beside my hip, the other guiding himself to my entrance.

“Breathe for me.”

And then?—

He pushed in.

I gasped, not from pain, but from the sheer intensity of it. The stretch. The slide. The way he filled me so carefully, so completely, my breath caught in my throat.

“Oh my—” My head tipped back. “Fuck, Gideon…”

He stilled once he was fully inside, his forehead pressed to mine. His breathing was ragged. His eyes were molten.

“I know you’re strong,” he whispered, “but I love you like this too. Soft. Open. Mine.”

My chest cracked open with that. Every part of me felt seen. Not just my body—but my everything.

“You can always be this way with me,” he added, voice shaking. “Anytime. Always.”

Emotion tightened my throat. I reached up, cupped his face. “Don’t stop. Please.”

He moved then—slow, measured thrusts that rocked me gently into the mattress. His hands mapped my skin like he was grounding himself in the present. Like this was the only moment that mattered.

The rhythm built gradually. He pressed deeper, his hips rolling, thrusting, his mouth finding mine between quiet gasps and whispered praise.

So good. So perfect. Just like this.

His words wrapped around me as much as his arms did.

I felt everything.

The drag of his cock. The heat of his body. The pressure of his weight where our skin met. The sound of my name in his mouth.

Tension coiled low in my belly, slow and sure, that familiar ache building until I could barely breathe.

“Gideon—” My voice cracked. “I’m—can I?”

His hand slipped between us, fingers curling around my length. One stroke. Two.

I shattered.

Pleasure ripped through me like a tide, pulling me under, making me arch, making me cry out as I clenched around him.

He followed a heartbeat later, groaning my name as he buried himself deep one last time, trembling through his release.

We stayed like that for a moment—bodies tangled, hearts thundering in sync.

Eventually, he withdrew, tied off the condom, then returned immediately, cleaned us both up and gathered me into his arms like he couldn’t stand the distance for even a second.

I let myself melt into him.

His fingers traced circles on my back. Our legs tangled. His nose pressed to my temple.

A sudden sting pricked at my eyes, unexpected, sharp.

Tears welled, but I didn’t hide them.

He noticed. Of course he did.

“Hey.” His thumb brushed my cheek. “Are you okay?”

A watery laugh slipped out. “Yeah. Just…”

He waited.

“I didn’t know I could feel this safe with someone.”

His gaze softened. He kissed my temple, then the corner of my mouth. “You’re safe with me.”

A beat passed.

“And not just here,” he added. “You’re safe with me everywhere. In every way.”

The words settled deep, wrapping around me like his arms did. The room could have vanished, the night could have gone on forever, and I would’ve been content—because in his arms, I already had everything I needed.