Page 109 of Under Construction

His words unleash something in Chris, who snarls low in his throat and slides in completely, bottoming out. Chrisleans forward, bracing his weight on Dennis’s bent thighs as he presses deeper.

Dennis’s hands grip at his shoulders, fingers clawing for purchase, head tilting back as he’s caught between pure ecstasy and being pried open so fully.

"Move, please," Dennis begs against Chris’s lips, trying to buck and roll his hips but he’s folded too tightly beneath Chris. All he can manage are small jerks and twitches, his body straining against the press of his own thighs. "Fuck me properly," he slurs, still dizzy from the orgasm and the relentless way Chris has been fucking him through it. "Make me yours, own me, show me you want me."

"Shit,fuck, you're amazing," Chris pants, eyes rolling back as his thrusts build momentum. "You know I want you, only you, want to be the only one who gets to feel you like this."

Each thrust draws sharp cries from Dennis’s throat.

"I can't stop," Chris groans, "Can't ever stop with you, you got me so close, princess, fuck."

"Then fill me up," Dennis pleads, "let me feel you come inside me."

Chris's rhythm falters, his muscles locking when he drives deep one final time. A broken sound escapes him, then he releases, pulsing inside Dennis, each throb adding to the wetness already there.

The thought crashes into Dennis like a tidal wave—Chris, finally inside him after weeks of fantasies, pumping him full of his cum like he needs Dennis, like he’s claiming him completely.

It’s too much. Dennis’s arms lock around Chris’s neck, pulling him close. His teeth sink into the curve of Chris’sshoulder as a second orgasm tears through him—violent, raw, almost unbearable.

His spent cock jerks, spilling again between them, the pleasure excruciating, a lancing sting that splits down his body, leaving him trembling, undone in Chris’s arms.

Chris pants above him, his groans and curses mixing with gasping sounds of disbelief once the rushing in Dennis’s ears subsides.

Dennis has very little left to give, but he does what he can, guiding Chris’s mouth back to his and swallowing his low moans. Slowly, his body begins to loosen, legs slipping from where they’d been pinned, unfolding to splay around them as his muscles go slack.

Dennis’s hole pulses and clenches uncontrollably around Chris’s cock, and still, Chris refuses to pull out, shuddering with every squeeze, his body jolting and jerking as if he can’t leave.

Neither moves away, wanting to stay joined. Chris's weight presses Dennis into the mattress, and he's content to be pinned here forever.

After a while, Chris eases them onto their sides, still buried deep. Their kisses turn leisurely. Luxurious. Sometimes just brushing lips, sometimes licking along the dried, chapped skin there—dehydrated from lovemaking—gentle tongues and drunken touches so different from their earlier passion.

Chris's fingers drift over Dennis’s features—tracing his hairline, following his eyebrows, sliding down the slope of his nose. Dennis catches his fingertips with soft kisses whenever they pass his lips.

"Call me baby again," Chris mumbles, words melting together as exhaustion takes over. "Wanna hear you say it."

Dennis smiles, nuzzling Chris's nose, feeling his breathing slow.

"Baby," he whispers. "You're my baby, baby, baby," he says, testing the shape of the words in his mouth. Savoring how they feel on his tongue.

"Stay, don't leave me," Chris murmurs against Dennis’s throat, face buried there. His hand grips the back of Dennis’s thigh, hooked around his waist to keep them joined. "I need you to stay... please."

"I'm already here," Dennis says, stroking Chris's hair, but Chris's breathing has evened out into sleep's rhythm, words fading as consciousness slips away.

Dennis lies awake, pondering Chris's sleep-heavy ramblings. Chris's arms hold him tighter than usual, and somehow, tomorrow feels uncertain.

Because even with all the love expanding through Dennis’s chest, there's something delicate about them, as fragile as the stars flickering weakly above Chris's balcony.

As breakable as the secrets Chris keeps.

30The Morning After

Something shifts after that night. Something unspoken. Dennis prides himself on being logical—and logic says you can't equate falling in love with the world changing. He's seen enough of Jason's rose-tinted love goggles—and lord knows Jason owns them in every design and shade—to know better.

But he feels it. Present. Tangible. Undeniable. Even if they never talk about it.

Because Dennis gets it. Chris didn't mention his mother's words at lunch, and that's fine. Dennis won't push.

He's focused onnow. On having Chris. On loving him and getting to be with him. That's what matters.

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