18. Taran

CHAPTER 18

TARAN

The drive to Pinecrest was quiet, the kind of silence that let thoughts run wild. The road wound through the pines like a ribbon, sunlight filtering through the trees in soft, golden streaks. I couldn’t shake the image of Wynter and Rory the night before, arranging the memory corner. Such a brilliant idea. Wynter’s solid presence steadied Rory in a way that left no room for doubt that Royce would always have a place in our lives.

The memory lingered, filling my chest with something warm. It had been a long time since hope felt like this—tangible. But it wasn’t the only moment from last night playing on repeat in my mind.

After Wynter left, Rory went upstairs to bed and the house had grown quiet, but I’d had a feeling Rory wasn’t asleep. The way he’d bid Wynter goodnight felt like it carried weight, as though he had questions he wasn’t ready to ask. I gave him some time before I went to check on him.

He looked up at me when I pushed his door open, his gaze open and curious.

I perched on the edge of his bed. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Nah,” he shrugged. “Just… thinking.”

“About?”

“Wynter?”

He nodded slowly, his fingers fiddling with the edge of the blanket.

“What about him?”

“He’s… he’s a good guy, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, Rory. He really is.” I kept my tone light, careful.

He twisted the blanket tighter, his shoulders hunching just a little. “You and him… you like each other, right?”

The question hit like a punch to the chest, but I wasn’t about to lie to him. “Yeah. I like him a lot.”

Rory didn’t say anything right away, his fingers still tugging at the fabric. Finally, he glanced up at me.

“What do you think about Wynter spending Christmas day with us?” I asked. “He doesn’t really have anyone else to celebrate with since he came back.”

Rory’s face softened, the lines of worry smoothing just a little. “I think it’d be okay. Christmas is about family, right? And… maybe he needs one.”

“Maybe we all do,” I said, my voice quiet. “Thanks, kiddo.”

That memory settled over me now, filling the quiet of the drive with something brighter than the sunlight streaming through the pines. By the time I pulled into the lot at Pinecrest, the sun was well above the horizon, the air crisp and full of the clean scent of pine.

The cabin stood ahead, a picture of rustic charm, bathed in golden light. Birds cheeped and chirped in the trees, their song carried on the still morning air. My breath fogged as I stepped out of the vehicle and started toward the door, boots crunching softly against the frosted ground.

I hesitated for half a second before knocking, my knuckles rapping against the wood.

It didn’t take long for the door to open.

And there Wynter stood. Barefooted and tousled, like he’d just rolled out of bed. Flannel pajama pants hung low on his hips, and a snug henley stretched across his chest. The morning light played tricks, catching on the warm tones of his skin and the unruly waves of his hair.

I swallowed hard. Damn, he looked good. Comfortable. At home. The kind of sight that made me want to step closer, to feel the warmth he carried in every inch of him.

“Taran.” His voice was rough, like it hadn’t yet woken up. His eyes searched mine, curious, maybe cautious.

I stepped over the threshold when he moved aside, the cabin smelling faintly of coffee and wood smoke. The warmth inside was immediate, chasing away the chill from the drive. I shrugged off my coat, hanging it by the door, then peeled off my scarf and gloves, setting them on the small bench nearby. The outer chill lingered in my clothes for a moment, but the heat of the cabin was already working its way through. Wynter watched me, quiet but attentive.

I pulled off my boots and left them by the door, my socks brushing against the polished wood floors. The cozy cabin was all glowing light and soft, worn furniture, the kind of space that felt more like a home than just a place to stay. Wynter turned back toward me, his gaze still on mine, and I didn’t let the silence linger.

“You love my boy.”

The words came out steady, measured. His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face.

“When Rory asked, ‘What if I don’t want you here?’ you didn’t hesitate. You told him you’d respect his choice, that loving someone means letting them make the choices they need to.”

I stepped closer, closing the small distance between us, my voice lower now. “That’s how I know you love him.”

His breath hitched, just a little, and for a moment, he didn’t move. Then he nodded, slow and deliberate. “Rory is the easiest thing to love.”

There was more in his eyes, though, something pulling at the edges of him, like he was holding back. I waited, not pushing, just… waiting.

He let out a soft breath, his shoulders relaxing like he’d come to a decision. “But it’s not just Rory.” His gaze lifted, meeting mine, raw and unguarded. “I love you, Taran. I’m in love with you. You’re strong, kind, so deeply good… and sexy. God, you’re so sexy.” A self-deprecating laugh escaped him, soft and hesitant. “I’ve been in love with you for longer than I realized. It scared me. Still does. But it’s the truth.”

The room felt smaller, the air heavier with everything he’d just laid bare. My heart kicked hard against my ribs, a rush of warmth flooding through me. I stepped closer, my hands finding their way to his face, thumbs brushing over the sharp line of his cheekbones.

“You don’t have to be scared,” I murmured, my own voice thick with emotion. “I love you too, Wynter. I’ve been trying to hold back, to do what’s right for Rory, but I can’t fight it anymore. I can’t fight you anymore.”

His eyes widened, then softened, the faintest sheen of unshed tears catching in the light. I didn’t wait any longer. I leaned in, pressing my lips to his.

Wynter’s lips parted under mine, hesitant at first, then surer, like he’d been waiting for this as long as I had. His hands found my waist, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt , holding on like I might disappear. The kiss deepened, communicating everything I hadn’t said, everything I’d been afraid to feel.

I pulled back just enough to rest my forehead against his, my breath mingling with his in the quiet space between us. His eyes fluttered open, and the emotion there—unfiltered—knocked the air out of me.

“Wynter,” I whispered, his name a promise on my tongue.

His gaze flicked to my lips, then back to my eyes. “I’ve never—” He stopped, his voice catching. “I don’t know if I’ll get this right.”

“You don’t have to know everything.” My hand trailed down to his neck, my thumb brushing the rapid pulse there. “Just trust me.”

He nodded, a faint tremor in the movement. I kissed him again, slower this time, giving him the space to feel, to want, to take. His hands slid up my chest, tracing the planes of muscle like he was memorizing me, and every touch sent a spark through my body.

“Bedroom?” I asked, my voice thick with desire and the weight of everything I felt for him.

He nodded, swallowing hard before taking my hand and leading me down the narrow hall. The cabin’s rustic charm was everywhere, but I barely noticed, my focus locked on him. He pushed open the door to a room bathed in soft light from the windows, the bed neatly made but inviting.

Once inside, I guided him to sit on the edge of the bed. I knelt in front of him, looking up to meet his wide, uncertain gaze.

“Wynter, we go at your pace. You stop me anytime.”

His hands framed my face, his touch featherlight, reverent. “I don’t want to stop. I just—” His voice cracked, and he took a shaky breath. “I want you to know, this is everything to me.”

I kissed his palms, his words settling deep in my chest. “It’s everything to me too.”

When I leaned in again, the kiss was different—more confident. His hands threaded through my hair, pulling me closer, and I followed, easing him back onto the bed. The mattress dipped under our weight as I settled over him, his body warm and pliant beneath mine.

Every inch of him felt new, uncharted, and I wanted to explore it all. My hands roamed over his chest, his sides, his hips, learning the shape of him, the way he reacted to every touch. His breath hitched when my lips found the column of his neck, and he arched slightly, pressing into me.

“You’re beautiful,” I murmured against his skin, and the soft flush that crept up his neck was enough to undo me.

He let out a quiet laugh, breathless and shaky. “I think that’s supposed to be my line.”

“You can say it later.” I kissed the hollow of his throat, savoring the way he shivered. “Right now, I just want you to feel how much I love you.”

His hands gripped my shoulders, his fingers digging in as he pulled me closer. “I already do.”

The confession was a whisper, a promise, and I knew I’d spend every moment from now on proving to him just how much he meant to me.

Wynter’s breath came in shallow gasps as my hands explored the curve of his waist, the strong lines of his chest under the snug fabric of his henley. I tugged the hem, giving him a questioning look. He nodded, his eyes wide but full of trust.

Slowly, I pulled the shirt up and over his head, letting my fingers skim his skin as it was revealed. He shivered under my touch, his muscles tightening. I let my hands linger, tracing the faint scars and freckles scattered across his body like a map of his life.

“You’re perfect,” I murmured, leaning down to press my lips to his collarbone.

A shaky laugh escaped him. “Perfect? I’m not sure about that.”

“You don’t have to be sure.” I kissed a path to the center of his chest, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat beneath my lips. “I’m sure enough for both of us.”

His hands slid down my back, pulling me closer, and I let myself sink into him, the warmth of his skin, the way he fit so perfectly against me. I took my time, letting my kisses and touches grow more deliberate, more assured. His breaths turned into soft, almost soundless moans, and I swallowed each one like it was a gift.

The moment my fingers brushed the waistband of Wynter's pajama pants, I paused, my heartbeat drumming in my ears. I searched his face for any sign of reluctance, but instead, he arched his hips upward. It was a wordless invitation that sent a jolt of anticipation zipping through my veins.

Gently, almost reverently, I slid the soft fabric down. As more of him came into view, the sight stole my breath away. He twitched under my intense scrutiny and a rosy blush spread across his cheeks.

"God...you're breathtaking," I murmured huskily against his skin, pressing a trail of kisses to the neat thatch of hair on his groin. I swiped the length of his shaft with my tongue.

His body shivered beneath mine as I took him in my mouth. His head fell back against the pillow with a low moan that vibrated through me like a melody. My name spilled from his lips in ragged whispers and each sound he made only spurred me on further.

I let myself get lost in the sensation; the velvety feel of him against my tongue, the salty taste that was uniquely Wynter, the musky scent that filled my senses. His hands tangled in my hair as he guided me rhythmically; slow and deep then fast and shallow. I was already craving more of him.

Our eyes locked and there it was—raw desire mirrored back at me from those stormy blue-green orbs. "Taran..." He gasped out between ragged breaths, "Don't stop..."

Every gasp, every moan became our shared language—an erotic symphony filling the room with its intensity.

I licked and sucked, licked and sucked, driving him closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

“Tar… Taran, if you don’t stop… I’m gonna come.”

I slowly released his dick from my mouth one inch at a time until it was all out with a pop.

“You okay?” I murmured.

He tilted his head down, meeting my gaze. “Better than okay,” he said softly. But there was something in his expression—a flicker of uncertainty. He hesitated before speaking again. “I, um… I’ve never really thought about… roles.”

The words came out carefully, like he wasn’t sure how I’d take them. I smiled, crawling up to him and then leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “That’s okay. We don’t have to figure everything out right now.”

His lips quirked into a half-smile. “I know, but… it’s been on my mind. I guess I’ve always imagined what it would be like to… you know… be with you. And when I thought about it, I saw myself…” He trailed off, his cheeks coloring.

“Topping me,” I finished for him, a teasing edge to my voice. His eyes widened slightly, and I laughed softly. “Wyn, it’s okay. You can say it.”

“I just… I’ve wanted that for so long,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady. “Not because I thought it was the only way, but because I wanted to be the one to take care of you like that. To show you how much you mean to me.”

Something warm unfurled in my chest at his honesty. I cupped his face, brushing my thumb along his cheekbone. “You’ve always taken care of me, Wynter. In ways you probably don’t even realize.”

He leaned into my touch, his eyes searching mine. “What about you? What do you… prefer?”

I let out a soft laugh. “I prefer to bottom,” I admitted, watching his reaction closely. “Always have. But that doesn’t mean I can’t—or won’t—top, if that’s what you want. This isn’t about one of us bending to the other’s preference. It’s about finding what works for us. Together.”

His brow furrowed slightly, like he was turning my words over in his mind. “You don’t mind?”

“Wynter,” I said, my voice firm but gentle. “You’re the only person I’ve wanted in a very long time. If topping is what makes you feel connected, I’ll give you that. And if, one day, you decide you want me to take the lead, I can do that too. As long as we’re honest with each other, we’ll figure it out.”

He smiled then, slow and breathtaking, his hand resting on my chest. “I never thought I’d get to have this. To have you.” His voice dipped, quieter. “It feels… surreal.”

“Well,” I said, leaning down to capture his lips in a soft kiss, “you better get used to it. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

His laugh was low and warm, his arms sliding around me as he pulled me closer. “Neither am I.”

Wynter shifted beside me, propping himself up on one elbow. His fingers trailed absently over my chest, his touch featherlight but grounding. He looked thoughtful, like he was turning something over in his mind.

“There’s… one more thing,” I said, breaking the quiet. His eyes flicked to mine, curious but open. “I haven’t—uh—I haven’t been with anyone in over eighteen months.”

His fingers stilled against my skin, but his expression didn’t change—no judgment, just quiet attention.

“I got a full physical before retiring,” Wynter, “and they gave me a clean bill of health. No surprises. But I’ll still get tested again soon, just to be sure. For us.”

Wynter’s lips quirked into a small, soft smile. “You didn’t have to say that, but I’m glad you did.”

I reached up, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. “I want this—whatever we’re building—to be as open and honest as it can be. No assumptions, no doubts.”

He nodded, his fingers starting to move again, tracing the line of my collarbone. “Do you… want to use protection?” he asked, his tone careful but not hesitant.

I considered the question for a moment before answering. “That’s up to you, Wynter. I trust you completely. Whatever you’re comfortable with, that’s what we’ll do.”

His gaze held mine, steady and warm. “I trust you too, baby,” he said quietly, like he was sealing a promise. “And if you’re okay without… I am too.”

A murmur escaped my lips, a plea for Wynter. "I need you... inside me."

His eyes widened, a soft gasp slipping past his lips. "God, Taran... I've wanted this. Dreamt of it. I'm afraid of messing up."

I quelled his fears with a reassuring smile, my voice just above a whisper. "Whatever you do, however you do it... it'll be perfect."

He gave me an uncertain nod and I took that as my cue to stand up, peeling off my clothes one by one in anticipation of what was to come.

Wynter's gaze roamed over my exposed body, awe flickering in his eyes. "You called me beautiful," he murmured, "but that title belongs to you."

Heat flushed through me at his words and my heart pounded against my ribcage like a bass drum.

Our tongues explored the expanse of skin presented before us; licking, sucking, nibbling on necks and shoulders while our hands caressed every inch available.

When our lips met again, there was no urgency now—just the slow press of our mouths, as if we had all the time in the world. His breath mingled with mine, warm and deep, a silent promise of what was to come. I felt his hands on my skin, hot and sure, as he reached for the lube, the slick sound of it filling the quiet space between us.

Wynter moved behind me, and I could feel the heat of his body pressing against my back. I reached down, taking myself in hand, my breath catching at the slow stretch of anticipation. When he lined himself up, I felt that first brush—slow, deliberate, the tip of him inching inside. My muscles clenched, trying to adjust to him, but he was patient, waiting until I gave him the nod.

“Fuck, you feel good,” I muttered, my words a little more breathless than I meant.

He chuckled, his lips grazing my neck, low and husky. “Keeping my fingers crossed that you’ll say that every time.”

I grinned, a bit dazed already. “It will always be true.”

I pushed my ass against his groin, silently giving him the nod to continue moving. Wynter slid the rest of his dick in to the hilt, his groin grounding against my ass.

His thrusts started slow, almost tender, like he was testing the waters, but it didn’t take long before the rhythm built—each movement deeper than the last, filling me in a way that left me gasping. My fingers tightened around my dick, my focus scattered by the overwhelming sensation of him inside me.

“I don’t think… I didn’t… oh fuck… I can’t think straight when you’re doing that,” I said, my voice breaking as I moved against him.

“I didn’t expect you to,” he shot back, his teeth grazing my earlobe. “I just want you to feel it.”

I did. God, I felt every inch of him, every thrust. His hands were gripping my hips now, pulling me back into him, and I couldn’t hold back the soft moan that slipped from my lips.

“You… you feel like a fucking dream,” I gasped.

Wynter’s laugh vibrated through his chest, sending a shudder down my spine. “And you’re good for my ego,” he teased, a grin clear in his voice.

The pace picked up, faster now, harder, and I couldn’t hold in the moan that came next. "Fuck, Wynter, you're—you're breaking me apart," I gasped, my hand moving faster on myself, following the rhythm of his thrusts.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he murmured, his voice like gravel against my ear. “I’ll put you back together. In every way you need.”

And God, he did. My world was spinning—every thrust, every whispered word, every laugh shared between us, felt like something new and wild. I could hardly keep track of where the pleasure began and the absurdity ended.

And then, in the rush of it all, I couldn’t help it. “You’re like a fucking machine, I swear,” I said, half-laughing, half-breathless. “Did you secretly join the army to learn how to fuck?”

Wynter grunted, a low, throaty sound that shot heat straight to my cock. “If I joined the army for this, Taran, I’d have made Sergeant Major before I retired.”

I burst out laughing, too out of breath to hold it in. “Oh, please—Sarge, you’re killing me.”

He chuckled. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through my body, and I didn’t have words left anymore. I just clung to the sheets, breathless, my body trembling as I neared the edge.

“Fuck, I’m close,” I whispered, my voice thick with need. “I?—"

Before I could finish, the world broke apart in a rush of heat and light. I came, my fingers slick on my skin as I spilled over myself, a curse slipping out between my teeth.

Wynter followed soon after, his release crashing into me, the deep growl he let out sending shivers through my entire body.

We stayed there, tangled together in the sheets, panting and laughing softly, our bodies a sweaty mess. I leaned back into him, smiling lazily.

“I love you.”

He kissed the back of my neck, his hands still on my skin, gentle now. “I love you too,” he murmured, his voice so full of sincerity it made my heart ache. “And for the record, the army taught me how to follow orders, but it never taught me how to fall in love with you.”