Page 130 of Shut Up and Score
He comes with a choked gasp, spilling over my hand and stomach, his whole body trembling as he shudders beneath me. The sight—the sound of my name breaking on his lips—rips my own release out of me. I groan into his shoulder, hips stuttering as I fill the condom, burying myself deep as the world narrows to him and only him.
For a long moment, all I can do is breathe against his neck, my heart hammering like I just ran a hundred-yard sprint in ten seconds.
When I finally pull out, I take care of the condom and grab the towel from the floor, cleaning him gently. He lets me, quiet and pliant, his eyes hazy with something that looks a hell of a lot like the thing I’ve been carrying for him since we were kids.
I climb back onto the bed, curling around him without asking, fitting myself to his side. His skin is warm against mine, his pulse still fast under my palm where it rests on his chest.
He doesn’t speak. I don’t either. I just listen to his breathing, memorize the rise and fall of his chest, and let the truth settle in my bones.
It’s him.
It’s always been him.
The room smells like us. Sweat and sex and Micah’s sharp, clean soap clinging to the sheets. The sun’s lower now, slanting through his blinds in warm stripes that paint his bare chest gold.
He’s sprawled against me, head on my shoulder, one leg thrown over mine attempting to fuse us together. His fingers are tracing lazy circles over my stomach, and every brush of his skin against mine is a brand.
I can’t stop touching him. My hand drifts over the curve of his spine, memorizing each dip, each ridge. He sighs, soft and content in a way I’ve never heard from him, and my chest aches.
This isn’t the same as last night. Or this morning. Or even the way I chased him across campus, desperate to break through every wall he threw up.
This is…quiet. Whole.
“You okay?” I whisper, pressing a kiss into his messy hair.
He hums, nuzzling closer. “Yeah.” A pause, then quieter, “Yeah. I think I am.”
My throat tightens. I pull him further into me, our legs tangling, our hearts settling into the same slow rhythm. For the first time since that kiss two years ago, there’s nothing between us. No lies. No distance. Just him and me, breathing the same air, our skin still damp from everything we didn’t hold back. Everything I wanted back then and want even more now.
I tip his chin up, and he lets me kiss him—slow and soft, like sealing a promise. His lips curve against mine, the faintest smile.
"I still want your filthy mouth to talk dirty to me," I say against his lips.
He laughs into my mouth, low and rough. “You’re insatiable,” he murmurs, the words brushing my lips.
“Maybe,” I admit, grinning as I trail kisses along his jaw, down to the spot under his ear that made him shiver earlier. “But I’ve been waiting two years for this, Micah. You don’t get to hold back now.”
He shifts against me, our skin dragging together in a way that makes my pulse jump. His fingers tighten on my hip, and when he finally speaks, his voice drops, dark and sinful. “You enjoy it when I tell you what I’m thinking about doing to you?”
A groan slips out before I can stop it. “Yeah,” I breathe. “God, yeah.”
“Then listen, Golden Boy,” he says, lips grazing my throat. “Next time…I’m gonna have you on your knees before we even make it to the bed. Gonna make you beg for it.”
My whole body lights up at the promise, my cock twitching against his thigh. “Fuck, Micah…” I bury my face in his shoulder, half-laughing, half-wrecked.
He chuckles, warm and smug. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”
I lift my head, kiss him again, tasting the smile on his lips. “Exactly that.”
Micah’s smile fades into something quieter, softer. His thumb brushes along my jaw as if he can’t help it, memorizing me in this moment.
I swallow, nerves and hope tangling in my chest. “I don’t want this to end,” I whisper. “Not this time. Not ever.”
His eyes search mine, that guarded edge I’ve gotten so used to, finally, finally gone. He exhales as if he’s been holding his breath for two years. “You think I do?” he murmurs. His fingers curl at the nape of my neck, pulling me closer until our foreheads touch. “Colt… I tried so hard not to feel like this anymore. And I can’t. I can’t stop.”
The words wrap around me. My throat tightens, and I kiss him—slow, lingering, all of me in it. He makes a soft sound, like the fight’s left him completely, and rolls halfway on top of me, his weight a comfort I never want to lose.
“Say it,” I breathe against his lips, needing to hear it, to brand it into the space where all my doubts used to live.
