Page 201 of The Fall
Blair slides a hand between our bodies and wraps his hand around me. One stroke, two, and I’m teetering on the edge.
His thumb swipes over the head of my cock, and I shatter. My orgasm tears through everything, wrecks thought and breath until all that remains is Blair’s body locked tight to mine. I clench around him, drawing him deeper as I spill between us, hot and slick on our stomachs.
He thrusts harder, his rhythm dissolving into instinct. Every muscle in his arms flexes above me, and he follows, hips stuttering, a broken sound torn from his throat as he empties into me.
The world doesn’t return all at once.
First sensation: Blair’s forehead against mine, our breath tangled and hot in the space between us. Second: my hand still clasped in his above my head, both of us trembling.
His lips brush kisses over every inch of me within reach: temple, collarbone, the hollow of my throat. “I love you,” he whispers, over and over and over again, while starlight spills across our tangled bodies and all our tomorrows wait on the other side of this perfect darkness.
When the morning comes again, gold-washed and new, I reach first for Blair before reaching for anything else in the world. My hand fits perfectly around his cheek.
He catches my hand in his, turning it over and pressing his lips to my palm. He’s propped above me, the sheet pooled at his waist like pale water. His hair falls messily forward.
“I could watch you sleep for hours,” he says.
“You should try sleeping in sometime.”
“Not when I have this view.” He kisses my fingers one by one.
Outside, palm fronds rustle against each other. Slowly, the light filtering through the blinds changes, no longer clear gold but murkier and charged. The storm moves in fast, driving fat raindrops against the glass. I count seconds between thunder and lightning—three, then two, then they are simultaneous.
Blair buries his face in the curve of my neck and hooks his leg over mine. “Looks like we’re trapped,” he says.
“Guess we’ll have to make our own fun.”
“I know exactly what we’re doing.” His eyebrows bounce twice.
I expect his lips on mine, his hand sliding down my chest, and my cock getting attention. Instead, he rolls out of bed and pads away, one hand smacking his bare ass cheek as he whoops.
I stare after him, watching him reach into his backpack and pull something out with a triumphant flourish.
On his way back to the bed, he scoops up his t-shirt from where it landed sometime yesterday and tosses it at my face. “You’ll need that.”
The mattress bounces as he plops down beside me. When I peel his shirt away, he’s holding up a deck of cards with pride.
“Uno?”
“StripUno. I came prepared.” He settles cross-legged across from me, completely naked and completely unself-conscious.
“We’re already naked,” I point out, taking in the lean muscles of his thighs, the trail of dark hair leading down from his navel.
“That’s what the shirt is for. Put it on.”
“What about you?”
He drags the sheet lazily across his lap and shoots me a wink.
I groan and flop backward. How is it possible to get so much harder when he’s being the world’s biggest dork?
I sit back up and pull his shirt over my head. His eyes track the movement, lingering on where the hem hits me mid-thigh. “Alright, deal.”
“Ready to lose?”
“Oh, pretty confident, aren’t you?”
“In my Uno skills? Absolutely.”
