Love Him Breathless

by E M Lindsey

  Their clothes were a pile on the floor, and Antoine was thin and muscular, twitching at every pass of Fitz’s hand.

  “I’m yours,” Antoine said. It was the truth in this moment, and would be a lie by morning. He put both hands on either side of Fitz’s neck and dragged his thumbs up toward his jaw, tilting his head before he leaned in to drag his teeth along his Adam’s apple, then up toward his mouth. They kissed long, slow moments, deep and rhythmic thrusts, tongue against tongue. “How do you want to…”

  “I want you to fuck me,” Fitz said. “I want to feel you inside me.”

  He had denied himself that first time—the feel of Antoine’s cock—hot, throbbing, spilling. He thought he’d regret it if he let himself get too far, but he was wrong. He hated himself for denying that moment he could never take back.

  “Roll over,” Antoine told him. His firm hands, small and manicured, but still strong, guided him onto his stomach. He hissed at the contact when his painfully hard cock hit the cool sheets, but he suppressed the urge to thrust against them, to give in to his desperation for friction.

  Antoine disappeared for a moment, and Fitz heard him digging into the bags. He knew what was coming next. Antoine had made his expectations clear with the lube and condoms, freshly purchased for him. For them.

  There was the sound of plastic, and the quiet snap as he popped the cap. His warm hands returned, kneading at his backside, squeezing the cheeks of his ass and then gently pulling them apart to expose his hole. Antoine let out a quiet moan, then pressed the pad of his thumb against his pucker and pushed. It wasn’t enough to breech the hole, but it was enough to remind Fitz he was there, that there was more to come.

  “Please,” Fitz begged.

  Antoine shifted so he was between Fitz’s spread legs, and Antoine pressed a hand to the small of his back. “I’m here,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.” Another promise, soon to be a lie. “I want to taste you. Can I?”

  “Fuck,” Fitz said with a groan, because Chance had never, and men before and after him had offered, but never with such need. “Please.”

  Antoine’s body shuddered. Fitz felt it along his body, basked in it until suddenly Antoine spread his cheeks wider he was exposed again. And then there were lips, and then there was a tongue drawing a line from just behind his balls, all the way up to his hole. Fitz’s groan was caught in his throat, but by the time he found his voice to beg, the tongue was back, dipping into him.

  Fitz’s hands clawed at the sheets beneath him, his back arching, thrusting up against Antoine who held tight and didn’t back off. It was rougher than he liked, but he wouldn’t have traded it for the world. His eyes went hot with tears, and his mouth pressed against a pillow, open and panting.

  “You’re so,” Antoine said, but he trailed off with a groan and dragged a hand down the center of Fitz’s spine. He pulled back all the way, and Fitz heard the lube bottle, then felt two fingers prod at him. It had been so long since anyone had done this, since he’d had anything but a quick bathroom stall blowjob.

  It had been a year since Chance left, and that was a year without anyone touching him with real want or tenderness.

  “I’m ready,” Fitz gasped. He was glad he was on his stomach, glad he could hide his face. His emotions were too raw, too open. If he was a braver man, he would have given in and begged Antoine right then and there to stay, to never leave him, to give this a chance to become something. But he wasn’t. He thought he loved a man once, but not enough to ask for more. He’d let Chance slip through his fingers.

  He didn’t regret it now. The power behind what he felt for Antoine far eclipsed anything he had ever felt with Chance. But god—he knew, even now, he wouldn’t have the courage to ask Antoine to choose him.

  He breathed in, then let out a small groan as Antoine finally pushed both fingers inside. The stretch burned, ached, leaving him full and wild with need. His hips thrashed against the bed, his cock leaking a steady stream, barely able to handle the pressure of the mattress beneath him.

  He had never lost control like this. Never.

  And this was why he hadn’t let himself touch Antoine that night. It would have all been over before it got started.

  “I can’t wait to be inside you,” Antoine said. “I can’t wait to feel you around me.” He pulled his fingers out, and Fitz heard the condom wrapper, then heard him squirt more lube into his palm. The fingers were back, just a quick swipe, and then Antoine had him by the hips. His ass was hauled into the air, and he shuddered when he felt the tip of Antoine’s cock pushed against him. “Tell me you want this.”

  “I have never wanted anything more.” The honesty tripped off his tongue like a lie, but it wasn’t. Antoine didn’t seem bothered though. He just held on to his hips a little tighter, then pushed. Fitz’s body resisted him, the way it lacked softness and kindness. But he thrust back anyway, and breathed, and tried to relax until he felt that first ring of muscle give.

  “Shit,” Antoine gasped. He slowed down then, his fingers easing just a little bit. He petted his hands up and down Fitz’s sides, brushing against his ribs. Then he had him by the hips once more, and the slide was easier. Fitz pushed up high on his elbows, but he didn’t dare look back. His head hung between his shoulders, eyes fixed on a wet spot on the pillow where his mouth had been.

  His entire body was cold save for the places Antoine held him, and those spots burned like the fire which had scarred him. He wanted this to go on forever, and he wanted it to end. His balls were heavy and his dick was desperate to be touched. Squeezing his eyes shut, he thrust backward, and he heard Antoine gasp.

  The grip on him tightened just a little more, and then Antoine began to fuck him with abandon. The room was silent save for the sound of skin slapping, and the punched-out moans Fitz knew were coming from him, and Antoine’s quiet gasps as his dick grew, and throbbed, and leaked warm into the condom.

  Fitz wanted nothing more than for Antoine to sink into him bare, to mark him from the inside, to keep a piece of him. But this would be fine. It had to be. He circled his hips, then pushed up further and thrust back hard.

  It was enough. It was what Antoine needed, and Fitz could live with it. He groaned loud, hands spasming against Fitz’s skin, and he was coming.

  Fitz didn’t waste any more time. As Antoine stuttered up into him, Fitz curled his hand around his dick and stroked—quickly and furiously. He was already on a knife’s edge, and he didn’t need much to tip over.

  Falling to his elbows as he came, Fitz felt his orgasm ripped from the center of him, spilling onto the sheets. His head swam, and his breath felt locked in his chest as he gasped for air. He came down slowly and became aware of soft hands petting him, easing him to his side. When Antoine pulled out, he was gentle about it. He didn’t go far, just enough to dispose of the condom and let Fitz sink under the covers where there wasn’t a wet spot.

  There was plenty of room for both of them still, so long as Antoine pressed himself along Fitz’s back, and he seemed happy to do it. They shared the same labored breathing, and Fitz could feel the pounding of Antoine’s heart where he lay against him.

  “Okay?” he finally asked. He was on edge, primed to accept Antoine’s rejection, or his displeasure. When Antoine laughed and mouthed at the back of his shoulder, Fitz felt tension in his body ease.

  “I’m good. You?”

  “Not bad.” Fitz was so much more, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Instead, he reached behind him and he found Antoine’s hand, tugging at him until he was octopussed around Fitz’s body. “You mind?”

  After a beat, Antoine breathed out a sigh. “No. This is nice.” He kissed the back of Fitz’s neck, let his fingers trail over the different planes of textured skin, let him explore the thickness of his arm, and the stiffness in his fingers. He felt only pressure, but he liked it. “Will you tell me about Chance?”

  Fitz felt himself go tense all over again. “Who…”

  “Ronan mentioned him,�
�� Antoine said. “I think he thought I knew.”

  Fitz squeezed his eyes shut, more out frustration than pain. “There’s not a lot to tell. We were together. I fell in love and he didn’t, so we split up.”

  “But you didn’t end things,” Antoine pointed out.

  Fitz shrugged. “No. We tried, but we kept getting pulled together. Everyone thought it was a bad idea.”

  “Can you blame them?” Antoine asked with a quiet laugh.

  Fitz pinched him lightly on the back of his hand. “Yes, I can. I’m a grown adult capable of looking after my own heart. He didn’t do irreversible damage. It’s…it’s not the end of the world to have your heart broken.”

  Antoine went quiet then and pressed his forehead to the middle of Fitz’s back. “I wouldn’t know about romance. I’ve said I love you, but I’ve never really been in love. I know what it’s like to lose people you care about, though, and even after all this time, it’s still hard to breathe when I think about them.”

  Fitz knew Antoine was talking about family—an entirely different sort of heart, an entirely different sort of pain. But he supposed it fit, in its own way. “It wasn’t like that with him. Parker thought I should have gone after him—but he wasn’t worth it.” It was a sharp, painful truth, but one he needed to say out loud. It felt something like closure, and with that release, he could sink further back into his lover’s grasp without the burden of his ex hanging over him.

  Antoine hummed softly, sounding close to sleep, and he squeezed tight on Fitz’s arm. “Maybe it wasn’t love then.”

  “Yeah” Fitz said, burying his face in the pillow. It smelled like Antoine, and he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. “Maybe you’re right.”

  Fitz was up with the sun, lying on his stomach with Antoine twisted against his side. Their legs were tangled together, faces inches apart, sour morning breath mingled between them. He blinked fully awake, then shifted, but Antoine just curled into himself a little more and his breathing evened out.

  Fitz managed to extract himself from the bed without waking him, grabbing sweats on the way out, then paused in the bathroom to empty his bladder and wash his face. When he finished, Antoine was still dead to the world, so he put on his running shoes and headed out. He made a quick stop by the boys’ cabin and found Owen asleep on the sofa, and Dmitri nowhere to be found, but he assumed he was either in the bedroom or already on morning patrol with Ronan. He backed away, then headed toward the shores of the lake to catch his morning jog before everyone else was up.

  His body still hummed in the places Antoine had been, his ass sore, his hips faintly bruised, lips chapped. He felt the echoes of the way Antoine held him after, the places he’d kissed along his shoulders and neck, the line across his stomach that Antoine held tight to until long after they slept.

  It didn’t feel like nothing. It didn’t feel like it was fleeting. It didn’t feel like something he could give up.

  His feet pounded against the rocks as he ran, a stitch in his side telling him he was pushing it, but he kept going. He went until the pain was too overwhelming, and as he grappled for a nearby boulder, he heard a faint sigh to his right.

  “When Chance left, you swam until you vomited.”

  Fitz rolled his eyes, even though he was mostly seeing spots, and he held his hand out for the water he knew Ronan had. “I was pissed off.”

  “And now?”

  “Not pissed off.” He flipped the latch and took a few gulps, the water blessedly temperate, and it went down easy. Swiping his hand across his mouth, Fitz focused his gaze and glanced across the lake toward the cabins, but they were as still as ever. “Dmitri find you?”

  “I figured he was still asleep.” Ronan sounded worried, and Fitz turned his head up to look at his friend.

  It was strange sometimes, to look at them all now as adults, grown up and firmly seated in their careers. He struggled with Parker sometimes, trying to reconcile the man who saved lives and took care of the citizens as the same kid who got so stoned he thought his prosthetic arm was a log and tossed it on the fire when they were seventeen.

  Not that Parker was much better to this day, but he cared more. And he loved more. Ronan insisted what they had wasn’t as intense as it looked, but he saw the way Parker hovered, and the way his fingers twitched like wanted to reach out every time Ronan stumbled or fell.

  “Are you going to ask him to stay?” Ronan used his cane to ease himself down on the rock next to Fitz, and Fitz didn’t miss the way his legs trembled a little. He wondered if maybe he wasn’t the only one who pushed himself a little too far that morning.

  “No.”

  “So, it is like Chance then?”

  Fitz fought the urge to punch his friend in the mouth. “I didn’t mean,” he started, and he saw a smile light up in Ronan’s eyes and he tried not to groan.

  “We all knew you didn’t really love him.” Ronan leaned into Fitz’s shoulder just a little. “I think Antoine’s different.”

  “Not really,” Fitz said, though he knew that wasn’t the truth. He leaned over his thighs, resting on his forearms, and he closed his eyes. “He’s a different person, and this feels…this isn’t the way I felt when I was with Chance. But he’s leaving. He has no interest in sticking around a place like this.”

  “And you won’t go with him.” It was a statement, not a question, but Fitz felt it like an accusation.

  “I like it here. My family’s here, my job is here. You and Parker.” He felt his defenses rising, and he forced himself to take a breath. “Why would I leave?”

  “Because he’s worth it?” Ronan offered.

  Fitz rose and dragged his hand through his hair, knocking loose the elastic that wrapped round the bun. He let it fall to his feet, and he finger combed through his knots just for something to do. “Nothing good ever happens out there, Ro. Nothing.”

  “Simon seems happy. You don’t have live and die in this place, Fitz. Not if you don’t want to.”

  “You’re one to talk.” Fitz took a step back, and he saw across the lake that the door to the cabin was open and Owen was walking with Antoine toward the docks. Part of him wanted to run back over there, but the other part of him wasn’t brave enough. “It’s not like you have big dreams.”

  Ronan’s laugh was soft, and a little strained. “It’s different for me. It always has been. Parker and I are happy the way we are. And it doesn’t matter. I haven’t seen you smile at anyone the way you smile at him. It’s worth trying, don’t you think?”

  Fitz clenched his jaw, and part of him wanted to say something cruel, to mock Ronan for hiding away in his stupid fucking cabins, and using Parker as a buffer because he wasn’t brave enough to venture further than the shores of the lake. But he knew regardless of any truth in his words, they’d do nothing but drive a further wedge between the two of them.

  And Ronan was his family, just like his sister, just like Parker, and he wasn’t in the habit of driving people away just because they knew how to hit where it was most tender.

  “I’m sorry,” Ronan said after a beat. “I love you.”

  The words hit Fitz like a physical blow, and he looked over at his friend slowly. Years, they’d been on the precipice of falling apart, but neither had taken the step. “Ronan…”

  “I know I’ve been…I know I was never the same after the fire,” he started. “I never figured out how to forgive myself, even when you forgave me. Parker let me take it out on him, but I almost lost you. So, I’m sorry. You’re my family, and the reason I’m harping on this is because I can see he makes you happy.”

  Fitz swallowed thickly. “It is what it is.”

  “Well, I want it to be better. And I want you to have the life you deserve, and it’s not wasting away here alone. Okay?” Ronan pressed.

  After a beat, Fitz nodded. “Okay.” He let out a sigh, then bent down to grab his hair tie. Across the lake, there was a faint splash, and he glanced up in time to see Owen setting one of the kayaks in the wa
ter. He was too far to really tell, but Antoine seemed nervous.

  “Hollywood’s gonna learn to row a boat?” Ronan mused.

  “What the hell,” he murmured, something uneasy settling in the pit of his stomach. It hit him after a second. Antoine couldn’t swim, and he was also climbing into the kayak with Owen, and neither of them were wearing lifejackets. It wouldn’t be a big deal if they stuck close to shore, but Fitz was on edge.

  “You okay?” Ronan pressed.

  “Yeah. He looks good out there,” Fitz answered quietly. He watched as Owen pushed them off the dock and marveled at how he really could see a future like this, if he let himself.

  “You could always ask him about staying.”

  At that, Fitz laughed. “The dude owns a condo in San Francisco. He’s like, some high-powered consultant guy who fixes tourism for a living. Why the hell would he give that up for Cherry Creek?”

  “You won’t know until you ask,” Ronan pointed out.

  Fitz grunted a non-reply, but before he could form a real one, his gaze stuck on Owen who had taken them too far from shore. He was laughing…and rocking the Kayak. Fitz hurried toward the edge of the lake and cupped his hand around his mouth. “Knock it off, Owen! That isn’t funny!” They were close enough now that Fitz could see the half-panicked look on Antoine’s face as he gripped the sides.

  Owen just laughed harder, and rocked harder.

  “Relax, it’s not cold,” Ronan said. “He won’t go hypothermic if he…”

  With a massive splash, the kayak tipped, and both bodies dumped into the water. On instinct, Fitz acted. He dropped his water bottle, waded into the water, then dove. His arms burned as he swam, head ducking, coming up to hear spluttering. Owen was shouting something, but Fitz wasn’t paying attention.

  Get there, get there. His mind was screaming at him as hard as his body. His clothes were weighing him down, so he ripped at the elastic of his pants and kicked them off. His legs moved faster, but he knew the minutes were ticking by. The kayak was several feet away now, and Antoine was under the water.