Page 78 of Smoke Signals

He falls asleep fast. His breathing slows within minutes, and I lie on my back staring at the ceiling.

My brain refuses to stop moving.

People leave.

The thought slides through my brain like it already knows the way.

Lance’s face flashes across my mind without warning. My brother laughing across the kitchen table, his voice on the phone the last time we spoke. The hospital room. The empty space afterward.

I turn my head and watch Stellan sleeping beside me. I stare at the way his chest rises and falls steadily, wondering if this peace will last or if he'll pull away soon, leaving me grasping at empty sheets.

I should have known better than to let myself get this attached, to start to build something around someone who might walk out the door without a backward glance.

I close my eyes, but images flicker behind my lids; conversations we haven't had yet, the ones where he says it's over and my heart races, palms growing damp against the fabric beneath me. I should have known better.

After a while Stellan shifts beside me, and his hand slides across the sheets until it finds my waist. I freeze for a second, part of me terrified this touch means goodbye, but another part clings to it, desperate for the stability only he provides.

"You're thinking too loud," he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

I blink in the darkness. "Sorry," I whisper, my throat tight because apologizing feels safer than explaining the fear that he's already halfway out the door.

He pulls me closer before I can finish, his body curving around mine, solid and unyielding. His lips brush slowly across the side of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine, and I inhale sharply.

"You're tense," he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear, fingers splaying across my stomach.

"I'm fine," I lie, because admitting the truth means facing how much power he holds over me, how one wrong word from him could shatter everything.

He hums softly and his mouth moves lower along my collarbone, slow and deliberate, each kiss pulling a quiet sigh from my lips as heat builds under my skin. His hand slides along my side, tracing the curve of my hip through the thin sheet, and I lean into it. My body betrays the chaos in my thoughts, craving the way he makes the world narrow to just us in this bed.

"Come here," he whispers, voice dropping lower, laced with that quiet command I can't resist, and I let him pull me closer.

He shifts, his leg sliding between mine, and the contact sends a spark through me.

"You're not fine," he breathes, his thumb stroking my cheek, calloused from work but gentle now. I lean into that touch, my heart beating a little faster, part of me wanting to push him away.

I open my mouth to argue but instead I press my lips to his, soft at first, tasting the salt on his skin. He responds immediately, his hand cupping the back of my neck, deepening the kiss making my pulse quicken, drowning out the whispers of doubt.

Our mouths move together, unhurried, tongues brushing as the heat steadily builds. I feel his heartbeat under my hand, matching mine and thoughts flicker through my mind.

How lucky I am to have him here despite the risk.

He breaks the kiss first, trailing his lips down my jaw, nipping lightly at the skin, and I tilt my head back, exposing my throat. A low sound escapes me, not quite a moan but close as his teeth graze sensitive spots, sending warmth pooling in my stomach.

"Let me help," he says against my pulse point.

I nod, words failing me because his hands are everywhere now; sliding under my shirt, palms flat against my bare back, pulling me flush against him, his body a reminder that he's still here, still choosing this.

"I need you," I whisper, the words slipping out honest and raw, laced with the unspoken plea to stay, and he smiles.

His hands grip my hips hard, fingers digging into the skin there with enough force to leave faint marks, and I feel the shift in him; the way his body takes over, communicating what words can't. He rolls us slightly so I'm on my back, his weight pressing me into the mattress.

I look up at him, his eyes locked on mine as he leans down to claim my mouth again. The kiss is rougher this time, teeth nipping at my lower lip before his tongue pushes in, demanding.

My hands slide up his back, nails scraping lightly over his shoulders, and he growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating through our chests where they press together, sweat already starting to slick our skin in the warm room.

He breaks the kiss to trail his mouth down my neck, sucking hard enough to bruise, marking me as his and I arch up, a gasp escaping as heat floods my veins. His hand moves between us, palming my cock, stroking firmly, and I buck into his touch.

“Stellan,” I breathe.