Adrian
I was reaching for my apartment card when I paused, my hand hovering just above the sensor.
Maxen is home.
Home.
That word can mean so many different things, depending on who's saying it.
For me, home isn't just four walls. It's not furniture or fancy lights.
It's a bond.
A space where you belong.
Where the silence isn't empty but comforting.
This apartment used to feel like just a building—clean, sharp, efficient. A place to rest after a long day.
But now that I have someone to come home to, someone to share the space with—it's more than an address.
It's a home.
I stepped inside quietly. Soft lighting warmed the hallway, and a faint trace of his cologne hung in the air—clean, woodsy, grounding.
It made my heart ache in the best way.
I need to ask him to move in. Properly.
He's already here most nights. His things are everywhere. His coffee creamer is in my fridge. I fold his socks without thinking.
But I want him to know—he's not just here by default.
He's chosen. Every time.
I walked through the living room, expecting to find him on the couch, maybe flipping through a book or scrolling his phone. But it was quiet.
I smiled.
The bedroom light was on, and the bathroom door was closed, and the sound of running water spilled softly into the room.
I began to undress, planning to join him—until a soft moan caught my ear.
I stilled, listening.
Another moan. Lower. Needier.
Curious, I opened the bathroom door slowly, just a crack.
He didn't hear me. He was lost in his own world.
He had my shower gel in hand, holding it close to his nose as steam curled around him.
His other hand was slowly tracing his chest, teasing his nipples. His head leaned back under the spray, his lips parted, breath shaky.
I was struck—both jealous and completely undone by the sight of him.
I stepped in silently, wrapped my arms around his waist from behind, and whispered into his ear, voice low:
"Oh, what a sight to be greeted by. I'm glad my scent can bring you to the edge... but I'm a little jealous, Xen. Thought I might've been replaced."
He startled, just for a second. But as soon as he realized it was me, he relaxed, leaning further into me with a needy moan.
"Never," he breathed. "Nothing can replace you."
That did something to me.
I gently placed his hand on the wall and let mine trail down to his hard length, stroking him slowly, steadily—until he gasped and bucked forward.
I stopped, earning a frustrated whimper from him.
He panted, "Adrian…"
I smirked against his skin and began trailing kisses from his neck to his shoulder blades, down his spine.
Then I knelt behind him, cupping the firm roundness of his ass in my palms.
"Xen," I murmured, "has anyone ever eaten your peach before?"
His voice trembled. "What?"
"I mean it," I said, kissing one cheek gently. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to. But answer me—has anyone ever?"
"No," he whispered, his voice caught between nerves and arousal. "You don't have to—"
"I want to," I said firmly, meeting his eyes over his shoulder. "Every part of you is beautiful. From now on… this peach—this hole—belongs to me."
He whimpered at that, pushing himself back against me, silently begging.
I spread him gently and leaned in.
One slow, deliberate lick.
His body trembled.
I teased and tasted him, taking my time, while one hand reached around to his weeping cock. I used his pre-come as lube, stroking him in rhythm to the way my tongue worshipped him.
It didn't take long. His moans grew louder, more desperate—until finally, he came hard, my name tumbling from his lips in a broken, breathless cry.
His legs buckled slightly. I caught him, steadying him in my arms before turning him around to kiss him deeply, hungrily.
He reached down, trying to undo my pants, eager to return the favor.
But I stopped him gently.
"Not yet," I whispered against his lips. "I'm not done with you."
The water was starting to turn cold, so we cleaned up quickly.
But I knew tonight was far from over.
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TO BE CONTINUED...
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