Page 111 of Detectives in Love
The second I’m bare, Xavier’s gaze drops between us, his eyes dragging over me. My cock’s flushed, leaking, twitching in the open air—and I feel suddenly, stupidly exposed. My chest tightens with the urge to cover myself, but before I can move, Xavier’s hand drifts down to his stomach.
He swipes through the mess he left there, then wraps that same slick hand around me, coating my cock in his cum.
I gasp at the heat of his palm, my cock jerking in his grip. The sight of it—his slickness on my skin, his fingers wrapped tight around me—sends a shudder through me, knocking the air from my lungs.
“Ah—” I choke out, my voice breaking as his hand starts to move. Slow, steady strokes, his grip just right. His thumb glides over the head, pressing down just enough to make my breath catch before sliding back down, spreading the wetness all along my length.
His other hand cups my balls, rolling them gently—and fuck, he’s too good at this.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my whole body tensing. If I look at him for just one more second—if I see the way he’s watching me, the way his hands move like he’s done this a hundred times—I might lose it right then and there.
I start moving with him—slow at first, rocking into his hand, my breath catching every time I slide through the slick heat of his grip. He strokes me in rhythm, and I thrust up to meet it, each glide sparking heat down my spine. My handsbrace behind me for balance as I grind into his fist, chasing the friction, desperate for more.
Finally, I open my eyes.
He’s locked onto my cock, watching every move—watching me thrust into his grip, his expression dark and hazy, lips parted like he’s feeling it too. His fingers tighten just enough to make me grunt.
He starts stroking faster. I match him, grinding harder, my moans spilling out between gasps. The pleasure builds too quickly, curling tight in my gut, pulling everything taut.
My rhythm falters. Muscles clench.
And then I’m gone.
I spill over his fingers, over his stomach, my whole body shuddering. My breath catches on the last few strokes as he draws every bit of it out of me—until I’m spent, trembling, undone in his hands.
The aftershocks ripple through me, leaving my chest heaving, my skin flushed and burning. I stay frozen, eyes shut, trying to remember how to breathe.
It takes a while before I can even move. When I finally open my eyes, Xavier’s still beneath me—completely wrecked, staring up at me with an intensity that twists something deep in my gut.
“We should clean up,” I murmur, voice rough as I shift, rolling onto my side. “Do you want to go first?”
Xavier doesn’t answer. He just lies there, still as stone.
After a moment, I glance over. His eyes are closed now, his expression unreadable. And fuck—somehow, my cum ended up on his chin. In his curls. Heat rushes up my neck.
Carefully, I reach out, trying to swipe it off his skin. But before I can, Xavier catches my wrist.
His grip isn’t tight—he’s not holding me back. Just holding.
And then, slowly, eyes still shut, he guides our joined hands to his chest.
So I just lie there next to him, my heartbeat slowing, my eyes growing heavy under the weight of sudden drowsiness. I take a deep breath, his scent filling my lungs, and my body sinks against his.
And before I know it, I’m asleep.
***
When I wake, sunlight spills brighter across the room. For a few seconds, I just lie there, blinking up at the ceiling, my mind thick with sleep.
Then it hits me.
We…did that.
This morning.
My chest tightens. The weight of it presses down all at once—the feel of his hands on me, the sound of his voice, the way we moved together until we were both shaking apart.
I shift, blinking fully awake—
