Page 20 of The Lies Of Omission (Without Limits #3)

One finger became two.

Two became three.

All while his mouth worked magic on my cock, now flushed and aching, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. I was floating—untethered, weightless, held only by the way he worshipped me like I was something sacred.

Lost in the drugging need of my body, the attention he was drowning me in. I barely heard the soft click that had my eyes springing open. Every muscle in my body tensed. I knew what was coming. I’d watched enough porn to know the sound of a lube bottle clicking open.

Sin reached for the lube, pouring it over his fingers. A heartbeat later, he ripped open a condom with his teeth— fuck that’s hot —and I swore I nearly came just watching him roll it down his thick, glistening shaft.

“You good?” he asked, pausing.

I could barely nod. My mouth had stopped working; thoughts caught in the war between need and fear . Generational trauma echoed in my ears—Astor men don’t bend. Astor men take. Own. Dominate. But all I wanted at this moment was to be his. Just for a little while.

Just to feel .

Slick, squelching sounds joined our labored breaths as Sin worked the lube inside me with one hand.

Then slicked himself with the last of the lube, hand stroking with a practiced rhythm as he lined up at my entrance.

I reached for him instinctively, dragging him down until our mouths met again.

His tongue slipped into my mouth just as the head of his cock pressed into me.

I whimpered against his lips as he pushed through that tight ring of muscle, gasping into the kiss, fingers tangled in his curls like lifelines.

“You ready?” he murmured again, kissing the corner of my mouth.

A smile ghosted across my lips, small and wrecked. “Y-yeah.”

He slid deeper, inch by inch, until he was seated inside me fully, his body shaking from restraint. And for the first time in my life… I let go.

When he finally started to move, it was slow. Measured. Like he didn’t trust himself not to fall apart.

Pain threaded with pressure, breathlessness, and then something more— heat that unfurled through me like flame meeting oxygen. It didn’t rush. It bloomed —sharp at first, then spreading outward, melting muscle and bone into need.

He kissed me through every shift of his hips, every sharp intake of breath, whispering my name like it meant something sacred. Like it could save him.

“Theo,” he breathed against my throat. “Theo…”

We moved together like prayer. Like confession. A revelation carved in sweat and skin. Every sound was a surrender. Every movement, a promise made without words.

His fingers locked around mine like a lifeline. And even though his rhythm remained careful, almost reverent, the tension in him vibrated just beneath the surface—like he was one breath away from breaking.

I felt him there. Right on the edge.

And maybe I was, too.

Because it wasn’t just his body in me—it was all the parts I tried so hard to keep hidden. The shame, the yearning, the fear. And underneath it all, love , unspoken but clawing its way up my throat with every thrust.

I buried my face in his shoulder, muffling a guttural sound that shook straight through me. “God, you feel—fuck—you feel like home,” I choked.

He turned his head just enough to see me.

My eyes clenched shut, jaw locked, body trembling as if the moment—the truth of it—was more than I could carry.

I wasn’t just close. I was coming apart with every stroke of his cock deep inside me.

And I knew this wasn’t just physical. Not anymore. It was a reckoning.

“Don’t fight it,” Sin whispered, his thumb brushing against my cheek, catching the first tear before it could fall.

But it fell anyway.

And then another.

Sin’s hips stuttered, his rhythm faltered, pushing me to breaking point. My breath hitched as tears spilled freely now. Silent. Relentless. Like something long-buried had finally cracked open.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “I didn’t mean for any of this?—”

“Shh,” he soothed. “Don’t say sorry. Just feel it .”

His body convulsed with the weight of release, his climax crashing through him into me, an all-consuming tsunami.

A raw, broken sound tore from my lips as I followed him over, thick ropes of cum branding our skin.

I was stripped bare, undone. I felt it in my trembling limbs, the desperate grip of my hands as I clung to him.

I cried quietly as I came—face pressed to his neck, mouth open in silent devastation—like all the pain I’d been carrying had nowhere left to go but out .

Sin held me throughout. He didn’t tell me it was okay. Because it wasn’t. Not really. But he let me fall apart in his arms anyway.

Once we were no longer boneless and floating, we didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. Our bodies stayed tangled, skin slick with sweat, hearts beating in a rhythm only we could hear.

His head rose and fell with the rhythm of my chest. My fingers trembled slightly as they drew slow, aimless circles down his spine.

I stared at the ceiling, wide-eyed, stunned by the quiet. The world outside was still there—the weight of expectation, of family, of history—but for a few suspended hours, it didn’t matter.

“I don’t know how to stop,” I murmured eventually, voice hoarse and thick with emotion.

“You don’t have to,” he breathed against my lips. “Not with me.”

I shook my head, turning so my lips brushed his temple. “You don’t know what this costs me.”

Sin looked up at me and met my bloodshot eyes. “I don’t care about the cost. I care about you .”

My eyes fluttered closed, tears still streaking down my face, and his arm tightened around my waist as he rolled us onto our sides.

“You’re not alone, Theo.”

He ran his fingers through my damp hair, letting his words blanket me. I didn’t answer. Couldn’t have found the words even if I wanted to.

Sin wasn’t bothered by my silence, he just pulled me closer. I buried my face in his chest like maybe I could hide from the truth of what we were. Because this wasn’t a love story. It was two broken boys meeting in the wreckage of what they were supposed to be.

It was power traded for freedom. It was war. And in that bed, in the dark, we weren’t victors or survivors.

We were just two boys bleeding quietly, trying to make something human out of the ruin that was our lives.