Page 46 of Room to Spare (The Fixer Upper #2)

“That’s good to hear because I was hoping you’d let me try out this new bed with you,” he murmured, the words both promise and permission.

Their lips met, not in the frantic clash Jules had imagined all day, but in something slower, more deliberate.

Keaton kissed like he was memorizing them, like each press of his mouth was mapping territory he never wanted to forget.

Jules melted into it, hands sliding up Keaton’s back, feeling the shift of muscle and bone beneath their fingertips.

Jules traced the scar on Keaton’s shoulder, the result of a job site accident years before they’d gotten together. Keaton’s fingers found the constellation of freckles across Jules’s collarbone, his lips following the path his touch had blazed.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Keaton breathed against Jules’s skin, the words vibrating through them. His hands slid down their sides, thumbs pressing into the hollow of their hipbones, drawing a soft gasp from Jules’s parted lips.

Jules arched into the touch, their body responding with an honesty their words sometimes couldn’t match. “Need you,” they whispered, eyes half-lidded, a flush spreading across their chest. “Need to feel you.”

The press of skin against skin drew twin sighs from their lips, the contact electric and grounding all at once. Jules’s legs wrapped around Keaton’s waist, drawing him closer, their bodies finding the familiar rhythm that still somehow felt new every time.

Keaton’s mouth traveled down Jules’s neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just beneath their ear, pulling a trembling moan from deep in their throat.

His hands mapped the contours of their body with practiced precision, knowing exactly where to touch, how much pressure to apply to make Jules writhe beneath him.

“Please,” Jules gasped as Keaton’s tongue traced the hollow of their throat, their fingers threading through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against their skin.

Keaton smiled against their collarbone, his breath hot as he worked his way lower. “Patience,” he murmured, his voice a vibration against Jules’s sternum. “I want to taste every inch of you first.”

His mouth continued its deliberate journey downward, tongue tracing the dip between Jules’s ribs, teeth scraping gently across the tender skin of their stomach. Jules’s breath hitched, their body arching off the mattress as Keaton’s hands gripped their thighs, spreading them wider.

The first touch of his tongue between their legs had Jules crying out, fingers clutching desperately at the sheets.

Keaton took his time, alternating between gentle licks and more insistent pressure, his hands holding Jules’s trembling thighs apart as they fought to close around his head.

Jules had to clench their eyes closed when Keaton took their entire length to the back of his throat, swallowing around his shaft.

Their balls tightened with the need to come, but as badly as they needed release, this wasn’t how they wanted to climax.

“Keaton,” Jules panted, their voice breaking on his name. They pushed his head away from their cock. “I need more. Please.”

He looked up, his eyes dark with desire, lips glistening. “Tell me what you need,” he said, his voice rough with desire. “I want to hear you say it.”

Jules swallowed hard, their chest heaving. “Your fingers,” they managed, cheeks flushing deeper. “Inside me. Please.”

Keaton’s smile was almost predatory as he reached for the nightstand drawer, extracting a bottle of lube.

Jules hadn’t even realized there was anything in the drawers, but they were grateful their boyfriend had thought ahead.

The snap of the cap echoed in the quiet room, followed by the slick sound of Keaton coating his fingers.

Jules watched, transfixed, as he warmed the gel between his fingertips.

The first press of his finger against their entrance had Jules gasping, their head falling back against the pillow. Keaton worked slowly, carefully, his other hand stroking Jules’s thigh in soothing circles as he eased one finger inside.

“More,” Jules breathed, their hips lifting to meet his hand. “I can take more.”

Keaton added a second finger, curling both just so, finding that spot that made Jules see stars. They cried out, back arching sharply, hands fisting in the sheets. Keaton worked them open with deliberate patience, scissoring his fingers, stretching them in preparation.

By the time he added a third finger, Jules was incoherent with need, their body slick with sweat, trembling on the edge of release. “Now,” they pleaded, reaching for him. “Need you now. Please, Keaton.”

He withdrew his fingers slowly, smiling at Jules’s whimper of loss. Reaching again for the nightstand, he retrieved a condom, tearing the wrapper with his teeth. Jules watched through heavy-lidded eyes as he rolled it on, their tongue darting out to wet their lips.

Keaton positioned himself between Jules’s thighs, the blunt head of his cock pressing against their entrance. He paused, eyes locked with theirs, waiting for permission.

“Please,” Jules whispered, their hands sliding up his arms to grip his shoulders. “I need you inside me.”

Keaton reached for the lube again, slicking himself generously before returning to position.

He pushed forward slowly, giving Jules time to adjust to the stretch, watching their face for any sign of discomfort.

Jules’s mouth fell open on a silent gasp as he breached them, the sensation of fullness overwhelming in its intensity.

“Tell me what you want,” Keaton murmured, his voice rough with restraint as he braced himself above Jules, one hand tangled in their hair, the other tracing patterns down their side.

Jules’s answer was to guide his hand lower, their eyes never leaving his. “Everything,” they said, the word both plea and demand. “I want everything with you.”

Jules gasped as Keaton pushed deeper, their body yielding to the familiar pressure.

Keaton moved with deliberate control, setting a rhythm that had Jules clutching his back, their breath coming in short, desperate pants.

The connection between them transcended the physical—each thrust, each shared breath reinforcing the bond they’d built over months of learning each other.

“Just like that,” Jules whispered, their voice breaking as Keaton shifted, hitting the spot that made their vision blur. “God, Keaton, you feel so good.”

Keaton’s pace increased, his restraint slipping as Jules moved beneath him, meeting each thrust with eager desperation. Sweat glistened on his brow as he watched Jules’s face, memorizing every expression of pleasure that crossed their features.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed, one hand sliding between their bodies to touch Jules where they needed him most. “So perfect for me.”

Jules’s back arched off the bed, their body tightening around Keaton as pleasure built within them. They were close—so close—the tension coiling tighter with each precise movement of Keaton’s hips, each skilled touch of his fingers.

“Let go,” Keaton urged, his voice strained with his own approaching release. “I’ve got you, Jules. Let go for me.”

The permission was all Jules needed. They cried out Keaton’s name as their release washed over them, their body trembling with the force of it. Keaton followed moments later, his rhythm faltering as he found his own completion, Jules’s name a reverent whisper on his lips.

They collapsed together, breathing hard, limbs entangled in a sweaty, satisfied heap. Keaton pressed his forehead to Jules’s, their breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath.

“I love you,” Jules murmured, their fingers tracing lazy patterns on Keaton’s back. “Thank you for being here tonight.”

Keaton smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to their temple. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

As they lay together in the stillness of Jules’s new apartment, the worries that had plagued them earlier seemed distant and manageable.

Tomorrow would bring its own challenges, but tonight, wrapped in Keaton’s arms, Jules knew they were home.

It wasn’t about the four walls around them, but the man behind.