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My hands roam him with possessive need. I rip his remaining clothes off and lose my own so fast I’m naked before I can comprehend I’ve done it.

It should scare me how much I want this.

How much I want him.

It doesn’t. We know each other well, and though I’ve never fucked Poet or any man before him, I wasn’t a virgin when we met. Being inside someone isn’t new to me. Neither is being inside him, with my tongue and my fingers, until he is writhing beneath me, pupils blown wide, chest heaving with laboured breaths, his low moans pushing me to a point far beyond arousal.

I’m dizzy with need. And Poet is single-minded and stubborn enough to make the ocean change her mind. But he doesn’t joke when he says I am a big man, and there is a difference between knowing he can take me and assuming he can tonight, and it’s the most natural thing in the world to me to want him like this and still take care of him.

We are face-to-face, our bodies aligned. No condom, we don’t use them anymore. “You will tell me,” I whisper, “if it is not right.”

Poet curls a hand around the base of my skull, already flexing to take me. “I will.”

I believe him. Holding his hooded gaze, I grip the base of my cock and slowly push inside him, watching him through the instant haze in my vision as he takes me in. Breathing, through the shock of tight heat clamping around me.

Do not come.

I groan with the effort of obeying my own command, tremors already wracking me. “You feel so good.”

Poet makes a rough sound. “Give me more.”

I’m halfway in. I push again with more purpose, until I bottom out, and I see the moment the sheer size of me overwhelms him.

He grips my shoulder, eyes watering, a rare curse falling from his kiss-reddened mouth.

“You are okay?”

“Hmm.”

“Po?” I cradle his jaw, thumb rubbing his cheekbone. “Stay with me. Aš čia. Myliu tave.”

He forces calm into his breathing and awareness comes back to him. “You’ve said that to me before.”

I’m here. I love you.

“Taip. Yes. After the fire.”

“I remember.”

“Do you?”

“I think so—fuck.” His eyelids flutter again and he shifts his hips, adjusting the angle where we’re joined. “There it is.”

“And like this?” I roll my pelvis, once, twice. Three times and more as we become a slow, climbing rhythm, the steady beat of my cock inside him, and a ride I never want to get off.

Base instinct surges in me again.

Poet widens his legs, challenge hot and fierce in his eyes. “Harder.”

Yes.

My brain is too messy with white noise to comprehend what he’s saying. What he means. But my body doesn’t need instructions.

I haul him down from the pillows and snap my hips, fucking him harder than he ever has me. The bed jumps, hitting the cabin wall, and the sound spurs me on as I press my chest to Poet’s and let him feel what this does to me. Let every sound ripping from my lungs rattle him to the bone.

It is so good. I have never felt pleasure like it. It’s not better than him fucking me, it’s simply something else. And yet I know even as he submits to me like this, I am still getting off on the strength of him. Even as he lets me pull out of him and tip him onto his stomach.

He’s never fucked me like this. From behind. He will not, because he can’t see my face or reliably feel if I am okay. But he doesn’t stop me nudging his thighs apart and driving inside him again. He presses his chest to the mattress and grips the edge of the bed. “Do it.”