⚠️ Mature Readers (18+) Only ⚠️
CHAPTER NINE
The silence in the apartment was disconcerting, a stark contrast to the usual chaos that defined our space. Normally, it’s a full-on assault to the senses with Dante’s playlists blaring with bass-heavy tracks from his room, Chris hollering at the TV over a football game, and the thick scent of rope fibers and musk that seemed to cling to every corner lately, a constant reminder of the games we played. But tonight? There’s nothing but the hum of the refrigerator and the scrape of my fork against the bottom of a greasy takeout container.
I glanced over at Evan. He was slouched against the counter, poking at his own food with a plastic fork, dressed in a faded band tee that hugged his shoulders and gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. He looked softer than usual. In a way that made my stomach do a weird little flip.
“Chris looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin when he left,” I said, breaking the quiet with a smirk. “Think he’s gonna survive Liam’s … hospitality?”
Evan let out a low chuckle, the sound warm and familiar, settling something restless inside me. “Oh, he’ll survive. Might not walk straight for a week, but he’ll be grinning ear to ear.”
I snorted, shaking my head. “Yeah, that tracks.” My gaze flicked to the clock on the wall. “And Dante? Do you know where he ran off to? It’s interesting not having him here playing puppet master over every damn move we make.”
Evan smirked, a small tug at the corner of his mouth as he shook his head. “Man had a whole damn mission planned. Dinner date at seven with some corporate lawyer type, then drinks at ten-thirty with a bartender he snagged on Grindr.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Two dates? In one night? Shit, he’s ambitious.”
“No kidding. I caught him stuffing a duffel bag with shit like he’s prepping for a covert op. Said he’s doing a full costume change in a dive bar bathroom halfway through—lawyer gets ‘sophisticated slut,’ and the bartender gets ‘straightforward slut.’ His words, not mine.”
I barked out a laugh, leaning back in my chair, the wood creaking under me. “Goddamn, he’s exhausting. I love the guy, but he’s a fuckin’ hurricane.”
“He really is,” Evan agreed, his voice softer now, his eyes catching mine for a beat too long.
The laughter faded, and the silence crept back in, heavier this time. It wasn’t just quiet—it was charged, electric, like the air right before a tornado. I looked at Evan, really looked at him. His hair was a mess, falling into his eyes in that effortless way that always got to me.
“So,” I started, my voice rougher than I meant it to be. I cleared my throat, trying to claw back some of my usual cocky edge. “Guess it’s just us. The boring ones, huh?”
It was a weak-ass joke, and we both knew it. Evan’s lips curved into a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He stared down at his food, poking at a piece of chicken like it held all the answers. “Yeah. Just us.”
My chest tightened, a knot of frustration and nerves twisting inside me. Stop being a fucking coward, I told myself. Just say it.
“Evan,” I said, sharper than I intended, my tone cutting through the quiet.
He looked up, caught off guard, his brow furrowing. “Yeah?”
“I…” My hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles whitening, palms slick with sweat. A week ago, I would’ve deflected. Thrown out some snarky bullshit about us being the pathetic leftovers while the others were out living it up. But a wave of clarity hit me, sharp and terrifying. I didn’t want to wait for Dante to orchestrate the next move. I didn’t need a command or a setup. I just wanted … him. Evan.
No ropes.
Just us.
I took a deep breath.
“I’m having fun. With the shibari, with Dante, with … all the shit we’ve been doing. It’s fucking insane. Mind-blowing.”
Evan nodded slowly, his expression cautious. “Me too.”
“But,” I pushed on, standing up from the chair, my legs shaky but determined as I took a step toward him. “The best part hasn’t been the kink. Not the submission or getting fucked up … in the best way.” I stopped right in front of him. My heart was slamming against my ribs, but I didn’t care. “The best part is you,” I admitted, the words spilling out, raw and real in a way that scared the shit out of me. “I fucking hate that I feel like I need an excuse—a rope, a game, some stupid dare—just to get close to you. I don’t want this to just be about playing a part, Evan. I want this because … because it’s us.”
Evan stared at me, his hazel eyes wide, searching mine like he was looking for a crack, a hint that I was fucking with him. For a split second, I thought I’d fucked it. Pushed too hard, made it too real, too soon.
Then his shoulders dropped, tension melting out of him as he let out a long, shaky breath, like he’d been holding it in for weeks. “Oh, thank fucking god,” he murmured, almost to himself.
Before I could process it, he reached out, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing over my skin with a tenderness that damn near buckled my knees.
“I was scared shitless I was reading it wrong. Thought maybe … maybe you just liked the Dom shit. The guy who takes control.”
I leaned into his touch, my eyes fluttering shut for a moment, letting the warmth of his palm anchor me. “I just like you. I was just happy that the kinky shit Dante started got you to … look at me that way.”
“I’m so glad I got to see you in a new light. Believe me.” Evan’s smile broke wide, bright and unguarded, and fuck, it was beautiful. “So … what does that mean? Are we …?” He stumbled over the words, his usual confidence faltering.
“Boyfriends?” I finished for him, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might crack a rib.
“Yeah,” he whispered, barely audible over the buzz in my ears. “That. Do we wanna be boyfriends?”
I didn’t hesitate. No sarcasm, no deflection, just pure, unfiltered truth. “Yeah. I really fucking want to be your boyfriend.”
He didn’t say another word—just tugged me closer, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, and kissed me. His lips were soft, warm, moving against mine with a tenderness that made my veins burn. His breath mingled with mine, hands tangling in my hair, not to pull or control, but just to hold me there, like he never wanted to let go.
When we finally pulled apart, he didn’t let go. His forehead pressed against mine, and he laced our fingers together, his grip firm but gentle.
“Come to bed with me?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion.
“Yeah,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s go.”
We walked to his room, our hands still entwined. Some ropes were there, coiled neatly in the corner, a silent reminder of the games we’d played, but we walked right past them. Tonight, we didn’t need them.
Undressing was slow, like this time we were savoring every second. I tugged his shirt over his head, my fingers brushing over the hard planes of his chest as I dropped the fabric to the floor. I pressed a kiss right over his heart, feeling it thud against my lips, strong and steady. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of my sweatpants, pushing them down. The smirk on his face when he realized I was free-balling was maddening. When we fell onto the mattress, it wasn’t a scramble for dominance or a fight for control. It was just … us. Tangled together, skin on skin, breathing the same air.
We made love. And yeah, I’m calling it that because that’s what it fucking was. Love.
It was gentle in a way I didn’t even know I needed until right then. Evan shifted over me, his weight a comforting press. His lips trailed down my neck, soft and slow, then along my jaw, up to my eyelids, kissing every inch like he was mapping me out. He murmured things I’d never heard from him before, his voice low and intimate. “I’ve always liked your laugh, you know that? That stupid, snarky one,” he said, his lips brushing my ear.
His hands roamed my body, not grabbing or claiming, but exploring, like he was memorizing every dip and curve. He slicked his fingers with lube from the bedside table, working me open with a patience that made me tremble, his eyes locked on mine the whole time.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper as he pressed a second finger inside, stretching me slow and deliberate.
“Yeah,” I gasped, my hands clutching at his shoulders, nails digging in just a little. “Keep going.”
He took his time, curling his fingers just right until I was panting, my hips rocking against his hand, desperate for more. When he finally pulled his fingers out and positioned himself, the blunt press of his cock against me made my breath hitch. He pushed in slow, inch by inch, letting me adjust, his eyes never leaving mine.
I didn’t have to beg for it. Didn’t have to earn it with compliance or submission. I just let myself open up to him, physically and otherwise, and he filled me with a tenderness that shattered every wall I’d ever built.
“You feel so fuckin’ good, Milo.” He said, as I felt the warmth of his balls right under my hole, letting me know he’d bottomed out. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, his voice strained, his hips flush against mine. “Feels so goddamn perfect.”
“I love the way your cock makes me feel so full, Evan.” My voice was raw, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him deeper. “Fuuuuck ... Evan.” my ability to form sentences was evaporating.
He began to thrust, setting a slow, rolling rhythm that had me seeing stars. Each pump was deep, measured, hitting that spot inside me that made my toes curl and my breath come in sharp, desperate gasps. His hands slid under my back, pulling me closer, our chests pressed together, sweat slicking the space between us as we moved together.
“Oh, fuck, Evan,” I moaned.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, lips brushing mine as he rocked into me, pace steady but unrelenting.
“I know,” I breathed back, my hands sliding down to grip his ass, urging him harder, deeper, until there was no space left between us, no room for anything but this.
When I came, it hit me like a tidal wave, my whole body shaking as I spilled between us, his name on my lips like a prayer. He followed right after, burying his face in my neck with a choked groan, his hips stuttering as he filled me.
