Page 35

TWENTY-THREE

SEBASTIAN

T he silence between us is charged, electric, as Derrick's words echo in the air, "I want everything with you.

" His body is a warm weight on my lap, his breath mingling with mine.

I can feel his heart pounding against my chest, or is it my own?

I can't tell where he ends and I begin. His eyes, those deep brown pools, search mine, filled with a hunger that matches my own.

But there's more than just desire, there's a vulnerability that makes my heart ache.

I shift slightly beneath him, my hands firm on his hips, thumbs tracing the jut of his hipbones, grounding him, anchoring him to this moment.

This isn't just about fucking anymore. This is about claiming, about making him mine in every way possible.

I want to brand every inch of his skin, every crevice of his heart.

I lean in, closing the distance between us, capturing his mouth in a slow, deep kiss.

It's a promise, a declaration of intent.

His lips are soft, pliant, opening up to me like a flower seeking the sun.

He lets me in, granting me access to his warmth, his taste, his very essence.

His breath hitches, mingling with mine, as our tongues dance in a rhythm that's uniquely ours.

The kiss deepens, becomes more urgent, more passionate, as if we're trying to pour our souls into each other.

His fingers dig into my shoulders, holding on tight, as if he's afraid to let go, afraid to lose this connection that's sparking between us like a live wire.

The room fades away, leaving only us, lost in this moment, lost in each other.

Our clothes come off gradually, a quiet, wordless sequence.

Derrick peels my pants off, his fingers brushing against my skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

I run my fingers along his bare back, feeling the muscles ripple under my touch.

The contact lingers, rich in tactile sensation, skin on skin, heated breath, the rasp of fabric sliding away.

When we're finally bare, I pull back, just enough to look at him.

Really look at him. His dark skin is flushed, a warm amber glow spreading across his chest and up his neck, his curls a wild halo around his head, untamed and perfect.

The lamplight catches the contours of his body, highlighting the gentle curves and sharp angles that I've memorized with my hands but never truly appreciated with my eyes.

A constellation of small freckles decorates his left shoulder, I've never noticed them before.

I want to trace them with my fingertips, connect them like stars.

He's beautiful, fucking beautiful. The kind of beauty that makes my throat tight, that makes me want to capture him on canvas, to immortalize this moment when he's laid bare before me, not just physically but emotionally.

He's mine. All mine. The possessiveness surprises me; I've never wanted to claim anyone like this, never felt this desperate need to hold onto someone as if they might dissolve into smoke.

It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once this vulnerability.

I've spent years building walls, keeping people at a distance, but Derrick has slipped through every defense without even trying.

"Ton corps, ton c?ur, tout est à moi ce soir," I say, my voice a low growl. Your body, your heart, all of it is mine tonight . I want to say forever, but I hold back the declaration. For now, tonight is enough. My mouth collides with his and I devour his mouth.

Derrick whimpers, his body arching into mine. "Please," he begs, gripping my dick, stroking in time with the licks of my tongue in his mouth. He's trembling, his body coiled tight with need.

"You want me inside you, Princesse. To fuck you.

To claim you. To make you all mine," I say, lifting him off my lap and positioning him on his back on the couch.

He spreads his thighs for me, opening himself up completely.

The sight of him laid bare for me is intoxicating.

Every delicious inch of his body is on display, just for me.

"Yes. Everything," he pants, his chest heaving with each breath.

"Chaque partie de toi m'appartient," I say as I reach beneath the couch to find the lube we stashed there weeks ago.

Every part of you belongs to me . The bottle opens with a click, and I lube my fingers, circling his hole.

He's tight, so fucking tight, but he opens up for me, one finger at a time, until he's moaning, squirming, begging for more.

"I need you, Bast. Fuck me," he pleads, his voice hoarse with desire.

I shush him with a hot, sloppy kiss, positioning myself at his entrance. I notch my dick at his hole and push deep inside him. He's so tight, so warm. It takes every ounce of self-control not to cum right then and there.

"Tu es à moi," I say, thrusting into him. You are mine .

"Yes!" he cries out, his body arching to meet mine.

I set a punishing pace, fucking him hard and deep. With each thrust, we both climb higher. His fingers claw at my back, leaving marks that I'll wear with pride tomorrow. This is us, raw and real and fucking perfect.

"Stroke yourself, let me see you cum for me," I command, and he obeys, his hand wrapping around his dick. The sight of him stroking himself, his body writhing beneath mine, is enough to send me over the edge.

I can feel my release building, a heat that starts at the base of my spine and spreads through my entire body. "Reste avec moi. Ne pars jamais," I shout as I cum, my body shaking with the force of my orgasm. Stay with me. Don't ever leave.

Derrick looks up at me then, wide-eyed and wrecked. I see it then, his fear, his trust, all of him, laid out before me.

"Sebastian", he gasps.

"I know, Princesse. Cum for me," I say

Derrick cums with a silent cry, his seed spilling over his hand, slicking the way between us. I collapse on top of him, kissing him thoroughly, claiming every inch of his mouth, just like I claimed every inch of his body.

We lie there for a moment, our bodies slick with sweat, our hearts pounding in sync. I can feel his heartbeat against my chest, a steady rhythm that matches my own. This is more than just sex. This is a connection, a bond that goes deeper than the physical.

I roll off him, pulling him into my arms. He nestles against my chest, his body fitting perfectly against mine as I lay back. I can feel his breath on my skin, the rise and fall of his chest as he drifts off to sleep.

As I lie there, holding him, I think about what this means.

What we mean. The weight of his body against mine feels like a missing puzzle piece finally slotting into place.

I can't let him go. Not now, not ever. This is where he belongs, with me.

In my arms, in my bed, in my life. This is real.

This is us. Not some fleeting connection or temporary comfort.

Something deeper, something that's been building since the first moment I saw him look at me with those earnest brown eyes.

Whatever happens, the media attention, the team dynamics, the distance, I want to fight to keep this.

To protect what we've found together. I've been alone for so long, my life a carefully constructed fortress of isolation.

My paintings, my hockey, my carefully guarded privacy, all walls I built to keep others at a distance.

But Derrick, with his sunshine smile and gentle persistence, has somehow scaled every defense.

He is and has become my everything. The first person I want to see when I wake up, the last voice I want to hear before I sleep.

I'm done fighting. Done pretending I don't need this, that I don't need him. Done acting like I'm better off alone. My fingers trace lazy patterns on his skin as he sleeps, mapping the territory I now claim as mine. For the first time in a long time, I'm ready to let someone all the way in.

For now, I'm content to hold him, to feel his body against mine, to listen to his steady breaths. Tomorrow, we'll deal with the rest. Tomorrow, we'll figure out what this means, where we go from here. For tonight, this is my entire world. This is everything.