Jesse

I couldn't remember the last time I'd stripped while someone watched me. It had been years. Even then, it had never felt so intimate. Most of my previous partners had been chosen for convenience, each of us taking what we needed from the other for as long as it benefited us both. We'd seen each other naked plenty of times. They'd looked and touched and tasted, just as I had, but no eyes had ever glowed at me as if they couldn't look away, as if I might disappear if they did. As if they thought they might be dreaming.

I'd never been nervous as I'd stripped before. I'd never worried that the person watching might not like what they saw. Never grown anxious with the thought that they might no longer want me. This was different. He was different. He was everything I wanted, and I wanted to be everything for him in return.

When he swore my name in a whisper, all of my doubts disappeared in an instant, and when he asked me to hold him with a softness inhis eyes that was filled with need and hope and longing, I couldn't have denied him even if I'd wanted to. I didn't want to. Holding him was everything I'd never known I'd wanted.

His skin was warm as I slipped my arm around his chest. It burned and tingled as if sparks ran through my skin everywhere we touched. I tightened my arm and pulled his body firmly against my own, pressing my chest to his back and tucking my thighs up under his as I buried my face into his hair. I was so hard I could feel myself throb between us, the damp spot growing against his back with each passing moment as I leaked inside my briefs. The thin fabric was the only thing that separated our skin, preventing my length from sliding against him and settling into the dip of his ass.

I'd never been so hard in my life. I'd never been so close to coming from such a simple touch. It wouldn't take much. I could rock slowly and gently, letting myself settle even closer, the pressure of our bodies pinning me tightly.

Instead, I sighed into his shoulder, breathing deeply, and basking in the peppermint scent that had tortured me for so long. As much as I wanted to know what it felt like to slide my body into his, I wanted this more. I wanted to hold him. I wanted him to feel safe and cared for. I wanted him to know that he already meant more to me than the pleasure his body could offer. So much more.

In my wildest dreams I couldn't have imagined a scenario in which I ended up in his bed, holding him close as if he were mine. How long would he let me stay? How long would it be until he realized how much he had to offer? Before he realized he could do so much better than me? I didn't care. If all I got was a night, a week, a year, I'd take it, gratefully. I'd hold him close and maybe, just maybe, I'd find a way to keep him.

His hand shifted to rest on my forearm. His fingers curling tightly, digging into my skin as if he believed I was an illusion that might disappear if he let go. I pulled him closer, held him tighter, and his breathing began to slow. His heartbeat thumped slowly as he slept. If I tightened my arm around him and held my breath, I could feel its pulse. I felt my heart slow to match it, felt us come together in the darkness in a way I'd never known.

He seemed so fragile, so hesitant. I wasn't convinced that he'd still want me when we woke.

I held him and listened to his breath, lost myself in his heartbeat.

I held him until the sun rose.