Archive of Our Own

It had only been four days.

Four fucking days.

But Theo felt it in his bones—in the way the sheets didn’t cling to him like punishment anymore, in the way his body moved without protest. No cramping in the truck’s front seat. No blood crusted under his fingernails. No waking up with his spine twisted from sleeping half-shifted behind a gas station.

Just… warmth. A bed. A boy.

Liam.

Domesticity had never been something Theo craved. He’d always told himself it was a lie people told to feel safe. Like locking your door would stop a monster from breaking in. Like clean sheets and a roof made up for everything else.

But Liam…

Liam made it worse. Because he didn’t ask for anything. Not really. After that first night, after “stay” had left his mouth like it cost him something, he didn’t press. Didn’t prod. Didn’t ask for Theo to talk about it. No declarations. No soft-eyed confessions. No gentle lectures about how Theo should try being human for once.

He just let him… exist.

And that? That was more dangerous than any feeling.

Because they fell into a rhythm—one Theo didn’t understand but couldn’t seem to stop.

The first full day had been quiet. Liam came back from Scott’s with a grimace and a pack of mixed snacks from the dollar store, muttered something about pack drama, then curled up next to Theo on the couch like it was the most normal thing in the world. They watched some trash horror movie—Theo made fun of it relentlessly; Liam snorted into his sleeve and let himself be pulled closer. The only line they crossed was Liam’s hand under Theo’s shirt. Just resting. Just warm. And Theo’s mouth on Liam’s throat, slow and sharp, never going further. Not that night.

But the next day?

The next day broke them open again.

It started in the kitchen.

Liam had said something—something normal and boring and safe, about the eggs Theo had burned. And Theo had replied like an asshole, smirk curling, words cutting. Something about how Liam would be lucky to choke on his cock before he choked on breakfast.

He hadn’t even meant it to land like that.

But Liam froze. Then turned.

And then shoved him against the fridge.

“Say that again,” he said, voice rough.

So Theo did.

And it didn’t take long after that.

One breath. One beat. Then Liam dropped.

Down to his knees.

Right there on the cold tile, lips already parted, hands clawing Theo’s sweats down, breath hot against the base of his cock. No teasing. No pretense. Just Liam’s mouth—wet and hungry and desperate, taking him to the root like it was instinct.

Theo swore. Loud. Head thudding back against the fridge.

Liam sucked him off like it was a goddamn act of worship. Like he didn’t care that his knees were bruising or that Theo kept fisting his hair and forcing him down harder. Gagging, choking, tears slipping down his cheeks—but never stopping. Never pulling off. Not until Theo was shaking, balls drawn tight, cock twitching between his lips.

He came in Liam’s mouth. Rough. Brutal.

And Liam swallowed every drop.

Theo had stared down at him—red-cheeked, slick-chinned, his eyes glassy and blown wide—and something in him had snapped.

He dragged Liam up by the hair. Spun him. Bent him over the kitchen table.

And then fucked him like he was trying to erase everything soft in the world.

Liam sobbed for him.

Begged.

Whined.

Tried to hide his face against the wood like it would muffle the sounds—but Theo didn’t let him. Grabbed a fistful of curls and yanked his head back. Fucked him deeper. Harder. Until Liam was shaking, legs spread wide, hole stretched and slick, body catching on every thrust.

He didn’t even last. Theo had barely wrapped a hand around his cock when Liam came untouched, painting the table with thick, hot ropes, crying out Theo’s name like a curse.

They barely made it to the shower later.

And the shower wasn’t any better.

Theo had him pressed to the tile within seconds. Liam’s legs over his shoulders, the spray hitting his back, Theo’s mouth on his chest, on his throat, on his cock. His tongue worked him over until Liam was half-sobbing again—sensitive and overstimulated and already hard all over.

Theo had spread him open there too. On his knees, water pooling around him, Liam clutching the metal bar like it could anchor him. Theo’s tongue buried in his hole, fucking him open slow, licking into him like he belonged there.

And Liam let him.

God, he let him.

The next night, it was Liam’s turn again. He pulled Theo onto the bed, shoved him down, and straddled his chest like he had a fucking point to prove. Theo smirked—until Liam fed him his cock.

Held his jaw.

Fucked into his mouth slow and deep and steady until Theo gagged, eyes watering.

“You always shut up best like this,” Liam whispered, voice hoarse.

Theo nearly came from that alone.

He made Liam pay for it later—bent him in half, fucked him with one hand around his throat, the other fingering him open while Liam moaned through a second orgasm. Didn’t stop until Liam was wrecked and limp and covered in his own come.

They kissed too.

Messy. Bruised. Desperate.

But also…

There were quiet moments.

Moments that crept in between the fucking and the fighting. Theo on the couch, Liam curled into his side like a cat. Their fingers tangled. Their breaths synced. One time, Theo kissed him just because. No buildup. No sex. Just leaned in, tasted Liam’s mouth, and pulled back.

And Liam smiled.

Soft. Sleepy. Like he liked Theo even when he was a bastard.

Which was stupid.

Because Theo was a bastard.

He didn’t say anything the next time Liam tried to hold his hand. Just curled his fingers back. Shoved Liam away. Called him clingy. Cruel, like always.

So Liam punched him.

Right in the mouth.

Theo staggered back, tasted blood. Laughed.

“You hit like a girl,” he spat.

But Liam didn’t back down. Just stared at him, eyes dark.

And Theo knew—knew—he deserved it.

Still, it was nice. Too nice.

The kind of nice Theo didn’t know what to do with. Regular meals. Warm showers. A soft bed. And Liam—always Liam. Flushed and open. Cocky and kind. Angry and loud and warm in a way that made the house feel like something more than walls.

Theo was starting to crave it.

Crave him.

And that—that was the problem.

Because four days shouldn’t feel like enough to undo years. Shouldn’t be enough to make him feel like he didn’t know how to sleep alone anymore. Shouldn’t leave him staring at Liam’s back while he slept and wondering how he was supposed to leave when the time came.

But it was.

Four days.

Five nights.

And somehow, that was enough to ruin Theo all over again.

Day five.

The house felt colder without Liam in it.

Theo didn’t say goodbye.

Didn’t wait around for Liam’s parents to come home from their cruise. Didn’t want to hear the sound of keys in the door, or the warmth in Jenna Geyer’s voice, or the way Dr. Geyer’s laugh probably echoed down the hall when he saw his son. He didn’t want to see Liam turn toward them with that soft look on his face, the one Theo hated because it made his chest ache.

So he left.

Didn’t say a word. Just slipped out before sunrise, before Liam even stirred. Left the sweats folded on the chair, pulled his own clothes back on in the dark, climbed out the fucking window like a coward.

And ignored every single one of Liam’s texts.

hey are you okay?
just tell me if you left, i won’t be mad
theo
what the fuck, just talk to me
you don’t get to disappear again

Theo didn’t answer.

Not because he didn’t want to—but because he didn’t know what to say. “Sorry, I caught feelings?” “Sorry, I forgot how to breathe without you?” “Sorry, I almost told your parents we’d been fucking on every surface in your house for four days?”

No.

He didn’t do apologies. He didn’t do soft.

So he parked his truck behind an old diner, leaned the seat back, and tried to pretend that the ache in his chest was just bad posture. That he wasn’t thinking about Liam’s hands on him, Liam’s thighs trembling under him, Liam saying—

"We’ll figure it out."

Fuck.

He didn’t leave Beacon Hills.

Couldn’t.

Even when it would’ve been easier to run—he stayed. Slept in his truck, woke up sore and angry and cold, with Liam’s name burned into the inside of his skull.

And by the third night?

He cracked.

It was almost midnight.

The Geyer house looked still. Lights off. Window cracked.

Theo stood in the yard like a thief. Hoodie drawn up, eyes flicking over the edges of the house like a wolf chasing prey. His breath came slow. Sharp. Not from nerves—just anticipation. Hunger.

He climbed the tree like muscle memory, silent on the branch, fingertips ghosting over Liam’s windowsill.

The window opened easy.

Liam hadn’t locked it.

Theo slipped inside like a shadow. The room smelled the same—shampoo, detergent, Liam. The scent hit him like a fist.

Liam sat up in bed instantly.

Eyes narrowed. Chest bare. Boxers and nothing else. He looked angry.

And too pretty.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he hissed. His voice was tight. Pissed. Quiet because of his parents—but laced with heat.

Theo didn’t answer.

Just stepped closer.

“You ignored me,” Liam snapped, breath sharp. “You left—you didn’t even—”

Theo leaned in. Caught Liam’s jaw. Tilted his head back.

Didn’t kiss him.

Just breathed against his mouth.

“You gonna yell loud enough to wake Mommy and Daddy?” he murmured, voice smooth and cold and too close.

Liam growled—but it stuttered in his throat when Theo slid onto the bed, straddling his hips. Didn’t ask. Didn’t wait.

“Didn’t come back for a fight,” Theo said.

“Then what did you come back for?”

Theo smirked.

Ducked low. Let his teeth scrape Liam’s throat.

“You,” he breathed.

Liam froze.

That was all the permission Theo needed.

He moved fast—pinned Liam to the mattress with a hand to his chest, the other dragging the sheets back. Liam was hard already. Angry and flushed and hard.

Theo liked that.

Liked it more when Liam tried to squirm.

Tried to speak.

“Don’t,” Theo warned. “Don’t say anything unless you want me to stop.”

Liam went still.

Theo kissed down his chest. Bypassed his mouth entirely. Let his tongue drag hot over the cut of Liam’s abs, the sharp line of his hipbone. Licked the skin just above the waistband of his boxers, then mouthed over the fabric until Liam bit back a sound.

“I said be quiet,” Theo whispered, smug. “Unless you want your parents to hear what I do to you.”

Liam made a strangled sound—half-growl, half-whine.

Theo pulled his boxers down slow. Deliberate. Let Liam’s cock spring free—thick, flushed, already leaking. Gorgeous.

Theo didn’t hesitate.

He devoured.

Mouth wet and open, tongue slick. Took him down in one smooth motion, throat flexing as Liam choked on a gasp. His hips jerked—Theo pinned them down harder. Dug fingers into Liam’s thighs, spreading him wide, holding him still as he swallowed around the head.

Liam shook.

One hand slammed into the pillow. The other twisted in the sheets, his knuckles white.

Theo hummed.

The vibration dragged a moan out of Liam’s throat. He caught it at the last second, bit his wrist, eyes wide and wild as Theo worked his cock deep—pulling back with obscene slowness, licking up the shaft, teasing the slit with just the tip of his tongue.

“You taste like you missed me,” Theo whispered.

Liam’s eyes rolled back.

Theo sucked him down again.

No teasing this time.

Just heat. Pressure. Mouth slick and obscene as he took him deep. Liam writhed. Bit back every sound. Tried to stay still but couldn’t. Theo could feel it—his control unraveling, hips twitching, thighs trembling.

He loved it.

Loved that Liam still couldn’t stay quiet. That even after days of Theo’s mouth on him, it still wrecked him.

Theo’s hand slid lower.

Gripped the base. Worked in tandem with his mouth—stroking, twisting, dragging whimpers out of Liam’s throat even as he tried to smother them with his arm.

Theo pulled off just long enough to say, “Come in my mouth.”

Liam gasped.

Didn’t argue.

Theo wrapped his lips around him again. Hollowed his cheeks. Sucked hard.

Liam shattered.

Body locked up. Cock twitched. Theo felt the first pulse of heat hit his tongue—thick, salty, his. He swallowed it all. Held Liam down while he throbbed and came, every shudder of his body more desperate than the last.

Liam bit his own hand to keep from crying out.

And when it was over?

Theo pulled off slowly.

Licked his lips.

Met Liam’s glassy, fucked-out eyes and smirked.

No apology.

No softness.

Just the taste of Liam on his tongue.

Theo licked his lips slowly, deliberately, eyes locked on Liam’s flushed, wrecked face.

Then he grinned.

Sharp. Predator-sharp.

And he moved fast—fingers curling around Liam’s jaw, dragging him up into a kiss that was brutal, punishing, full of heat and teeth and purpose. Not a question. Not a request. Just Theo’s mouth on Liam’s like a brand, like he wanted to mark him from the inside out.

Liam choked on the kiss—startled, breath catching, muscles still trembling from orgasm. But Theo didn’t let up. He kissed like he was claiming something, like he wanted Liam to feel what he’d just done. Tongue slick and deep, thrusting into Liam’s mouth until he had no choice but to taste it.

His own come.

Liam whimpered, fingers clenching in Theo’s hoodie. The kiss was messy, aggressive, all spit and dominance and the lingering taste of heat and salt. Theo tilted his head, deepened it—dragged Liam back under like he wanted to drown them both in it.

But then—

Liam shifted.

Slowed.

His hands gentled.

And the kiss changed.

Turned soft.

Still deep, but no longer punishing. Liam moved his mouth with a kind of tenderness Theo didn’t know how to handle. Like he wasn’t afraid of the sharp edges. Like he liked the way Theo bit and bruised—but wanted to give something else in return.

Theo froze for half a second, caught off guard by the softness. His mouth went slack. He felt Liam’s tongue brush his, sweet and easy, like the kiss was a secret passed between them.

And then Liam pulled away.

Theo barely blinked before he was pushed—slow but firm. Liam’s palm braced against his chest, shoving him back just enough to break contact. Just enough to make Theo think—

This is it. He’s gonna tell me to leave.

Theo stiffened. Pulled back a little more. Shoulders squaring, ready to make some cruel remark. You get what you wanted? Done pretending I’m more than a way to come? Or worse— Did you remember Mommy and Daddy are in the next room and you’re embarrassed now?

His jaw tensed.

He opened his mouth—

But Liam didn’t speak.

Just leaned over, grabbed something off the chair near the bed, and tossed it at him.

Sweatpants.

Theo blinked.

They hit his chest and fell into his lap, soft and familiar. The same kind of worn cotton Liam had offered the first time. Like it meant something now. Like it was a ritual.

He looked up, confused.

Liam didn’t say a word.

Just turned, pulled the blankets back, and crawled back into bed.

Theo stared at him. At the warm dip in the mattress, the tangled sheets, the quiet in the room.

Then he stripped his hoodie off, kicked off his jeans, and pulled on the sweatpants. No underwear.

When he moved to the bed, Liam reached out again.

Didn’t grab—just tugged.

Gentle. Wordless.

Theo followed without thinking.

He slid under the covers, the sheets still warm from Liam’s body. The scent was thick. Soap and come and sweat and something distinctly them. Theo sank into it. Tensed automatically—like his body still didn’t believe he was allowed here.

And then...

Liam curled toward him.

Careful. Slow. Testing the distance like he didn’t want to push too far. He didn’t press close, didn’t sprawl across Theo’s chest the way he had before. Just edged closer until his knees brushed Theo’s shin, his elbow grazed Theo’s arm.

And they stayed like that.

Quiet.

Still.

Theo stared at the ceiling, heart punching slow and steady against his ribs.

It felt… different now.

Wrong and right at the same time.

Because there were two extra heartbeats in the house.

Not just Liam’s.

His mother’s.

His stepdad’s.

Theo could hear them. In the room down the hall. Soft, steady, peaceful. Normal.

It felt invasive.

Like being naked in a museum. Like being a weapon in a room full of glass.

He didn’t belong here.

He never had.

But Liam shifted closer again—bare chest brushing Theo’s arm now. Legs tangled just enough. Not demanding. Not forceful. Just there.

And Theo hated how much his body melted into it.

Hated how much he wanted more.

The silence stretched.

Then, just as Theo’s eyes started to drift closed—

Liam’s voice, barely a whisper:

“…Theo?”

Theo didn’t answer right away.

“Mm?”

A beat.

Then, soft. Honest.

“Can you stay a bit longer? Please?”

Theo’s eyes snapped open.

It wasn’t just the words.

It was the way Liam said them.

Not like a demand. Not like a trap. Just a request. Quiet. Frayed at the edges.

Please.

Theo swallowed hard. Jaw clenched. His throat itched with the weight of it—because he knew he shouldn’t. Because every part of him was built to run. Because staying meant something and he didn’t know if he could survive that.

But still...

He reached over.

Curled a hand around the back of Liam’s neck. Dragged their foreheads together in the dark.

Didn’t kiss him.

Didn’t smile.

Just breathed.

“Okay,” he said, voice low. Gruff.

Liam exhaled.

And slowly—so slowly—settled against him.

Their limbs tangled.

The sheets rustled.

And the only sound left was the quiet hum of the ceiling fan, the rhythm of two hearts pressed together under covers that still smelled like sex.

Theo didn’t sleep for a long time.

But he didn’t leave either.

It became a routine.

Unspoken. Half-denied. Quiet.

Theo still ignored Liam’s texts during the day.

Didn’t open them. Didn’t answer. Didn't acknowledge the way his stomach twisted when he saw the notifications. He’d just toss his phone face-down on the dash and pretend he wasn’t waiting for them. That he didn’t check every few hours just to feel that spark of control burn through his veins.

But at night?

He was there.

Same window. Same quiet step through the dark. Same breathless pause by the bed before Liam stirred—always half-asleep, already reaching out, like his body knew Theo would come.

And Theo did. Every time.

Sometimes they didn’t even fuck.

Sometimes Theo just climbed into the sheets, cold hands on Liam’s too-warm skin, face buried in his neck. Sometimes Liam curled up without a word and pressed himself in close like that was enough.

It was never enough.

But Theo stayed anyway.

Still woke up and left before dawn. Still acted like nothing was happening.

But on the weekend?

They cracked.

A whole day together. A rare thing.

Theo had picked Liam up early, claiming it was for a “drive.” No plan. No destination. Just the vague excuse of movement so they wouldn’t have to sit still with whatever they were doing.

The road blurred. The windows stayed down. The sun was hot.

And eventually, Theo pulled off into a back lot behind an old park, cut the engine, and turned in his seat.

Liam climbed over the console without being told.

The truck rocked.

Theo had him bent over the seat, one hand braced on the fogging glass, the other gripping the door handle like it would anchor him. His jeans were shoved down. Theo’s were barely open. There was no finesse, no patience—just lube on Theo’s fingers, then Theo’s cock, and Liam’s body already twitching open for him.

It wasn’t slow.

It wasn’t kind.

Theo fucked him like he missed him, even though they hadn’t had a full day apart in weeks.

Liam took it. Wanted it. Pushed back hard and moaned Theo’s name into the leather until he bit the seat to stay quiet.

After, they lay in the cramped space, sweating and gasping and still pressed together. Liam’s thigh twitched against Theo’s hip. His lips brushed Theo’s jaw, lazy and warm.

“You’re disgusting,” Theo muttered.

Liam smiled. “You’re obsessed.”

Theo bit him for that.

Later, he drove Liam home. The silence wasn’t tense. It was… full.

Heavy in a way that made Theo’s fingers twitch on the steering wheel.

They pulled into the driveway at the same time another car did.

Theo’s chest went tight.

He recognized it.

Jenna stepped out first. David followed. Laughing. Holding drinks. Happy.

Too fucking normal.

Liam froze in the passenger seat. “Shit.”

Theo didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

But Liam—after a beat—got out of the truck anyway. Walked around to the driver’s side. Waited until Theo did the same.

And then Jenna spotted them.

“Oh,” she said brightly, her eyes flicking between them. “Hi, sweetheart—” Her gaze landed on Theo. “Is this your... friend?”

That pause cut deeper than it should’ve.

Theo didn’t react.

Didn’t flinch.

Just shoved his hands in his pockets and stared.

Liam hesitated. “Yeah,” he said. “This is Theo. My… friend.”

Something in Theo’s jaw ticked.

But Jenna just smiled like she saw right through it.

“Nice to meet you, Theo,” she said. “I’m Jenna. This is David.”

David gave a small wave. “Heard a lot about you.”

Theo narrowed his eyes. “Yeah? Like what?”

David grinned. “That you climb through windows. Loudly.”

Theo blinked.

Liam turned red.

Jenna laughed.

From then on… Theo started coming over through the door.

More and more.

At first, he hated it.

Hated the way the house smelled like lemon and safety. Hated the way Jenna always asked if he’d eaten, the way David made dad jokes and then raised his eyebrows like Theo was supposed to laugh.

But he got used to it.

Got used to the way Liam brushed his hand against Theo’s under the table. The way Jenna always offered to pack leftovers. The way the couch dipped when Liam leaned against him, eyes soft, mouth pink.

And maybe that’s why, sometimes, Theo got cruel again.

Because it was too much.

Too warm. Too real.

So he’d say something sharp—about Liam’s family, about the way he moaned, about how easy he was.

And Liam would punch his face. Call him a bastard. Snap back.

But sometimes?

Liam looked too hurt.

And Theo hated that. Because it meant he’d pushed too far. That Liam expected more now.

And worst of all?

Theo wanted to give it.

Because Liam didn’t just take anymore.

He gave back.

Harder. Rougher. Dirtier.

He rode Theo’s cock like it meant something. Pushed him into the mattress and said mine without words. And the way he kissed?

It was never just a kiss.

It was claiming.

Theo hated how much he needed it.

He caught himself one night—just staring at Liam’s face. His lashes. His stupid mouth. His hair all mussed from sleep. And Theo’s hand was already moving—slow through Liam’s hair, gentle against his scalp.

He didn’t even know he was doing it until Liam made a soft noise, leaned into the touch like it was instinct, and whispered, “Don’t stop.”

Theo had nearly panicked.

But he didn’t stop.

And now—now they were back in his truck.

Liam was riding him.

Again.

Just like that first night.

Except this time, Theo wasn’t holding back. His hands bruised Liam’s hips, pulled him down hard onto his cock again and again, made Liam whimper and shake, thighs trembling, mouth open.

And Liam kept kissing him.

Messy. Open. Loving.

That was the worst part.

Because Liam’s mouth moved like it meant something. Even when he was close to tears. Even when his body trembled and his voice cracked from overstimulation, he kept moaning into Theo’s mouth, kept whispering his name like it was everything.

And his scent—

It wasn’t just arousal anymore.

It was warm.

Bright.

Devoted.

Theo realized it in a sudden rush—dizzy and full and sick to his stomach:

He could never leave.

Not again.

Not really.

Because Liam loved him.

And the worst part?

Theo wanted it.

So he dragged Liam down into another kiss, shoved his tongue past trembling lips, swallowed every broken sound.

And told himself it was fine.

That this wasn’t falling.

It was already too late.

It had been over two month since the hospital.

Since blood and sweat and something darker clung to the sterile walls. Since Liam let Theo fuck him so hard he shook, then asked him to stay like he meant it. Since Theo whispered yes into the dark and didn’t leave.

Now, the house was quiet again.

Jenna and David were gone—off on another weekend getaway, trusting their son with the boy who still didn’t know how to sleep without his fists clenched.

Theo lay on Liam’s bed, his arms behind his head, wearing the same damn sweatpants Liam had given him the first night. They were his now, basically. Soft, worn, a little too long, and somehow the most comfortable thing he owned.

The sheets smelled like detergent and arousal and Liam.

Liam, who was currently straddling Theo’s waist, warm thighs bracketing his hips, fingertips tracing the faint, nearly invisible scars across Theo’s chest. His touch was light. Gentle in a way Theo never expected from him—like he knew how much damage lived under the skin and didn’t want to press too hard.

Theo had his eyes closed.

Letting him.

It should’ve made him crawl out of his skin, but it didn’t. Not tonight. Not when Liam’s scent was soft and warm, not when his touch was curious instead of possessive. Not when his voice hadn’t broken the silence yet.

But then—

“Are you gonna stay in Beacon Hills?”

Theo’s eyes flicked open—then shut again.

Liam’s voice was casual. Too casual.

Which meant it wasn’t casual at all.

Theo didn’t need to look at him to know he was trying too hard to sound neutral. The boy was incapable of hiding anything. That was part of the problem. Part of the reason Theo had been able to manipulate him back then. Liam wore his heart right on his fucking sleeve.

And right now? His chemosignals were anxious. Twitchy. Nervous. He smelled like static.

Theo shrugged, keeping his voice flat. “Dunno.”

Liam didn’t say anything.

But then he leaned down and kissed Theo’s chest. Right over a scar. Quick, soft, almost like a reflex.

“Open your eyes,” Liam whispered.

Theo did.

And Liam’s blue eyes were right there. Honest. Bright. Wide open in a way that felt like a punch.

Theo looked away instantly.

That kind of honesty burned.

“You don’t have to decide now,” Liam said, voice quieter. “But… if you wanted to stay, there are those small apartments in the Hale building. I know you could get one. It’s nothing fancy but—”

Theo cut him off with a short laugh. “You offering to be my real estate agent now?”

Liam didn’t smile.

Theo’s smirk faded.

He thought about it. For real this time. A place. Four walls. A key that was his. No truck. No couch. No cheap motel or clinic cot or pretending he liked drifting.

He couldn’t imagine it.

But…

“Yeah,” he said finally. “Fuck, I’d like that.”

His voice was rough. Uneven.

“Thanks.”

Liam nodded. Then leaned down—rested his cheek on Theo’s chest for a second. Just breathed him in. Theo’s hand came up, almost without thought, settling on Liam’s back. His fingers curled in lightly, held him there.

Then Liam pulled back again, but the nervous scent didn’t fade.

Theo narrowed his eyes.

“What?” he asked. “You stink up the whole room with your nerves. Either say it or learn to control your chemosignals.”

Liam scowled faintly. “I hate when you say that.”

Theo raised a brow. “Yeah? I hate smelling your anxiety, so we’re even.”

Liam hesitated.

Then, softly—“Theo, I mean… are you…”

He trailed off. Bit his lip.

“You probably know I like this. I’m not exactly subtle. And I’m pretty sure you like this too. But if you’re staying—if you get a place, if you really let yourself stay here—I just…” He exhaled. “Do you think this could be something?”

Theo didn’t breathe.

Liam was still rambling, voice rushing now like he had to get it out before he lost his nerve.

“I’m not trying to push. I’m not saying move in together or whatever. Trust me, this is confusing for me too, but I really like you, and I just—I need to know, because if not, I think we should…”

He didn’t finish.

Didn’t need to.

Theo knew what wasn’t said.

We should stop.

Liam’s eyes dropped. His fingers curled against Theo’s chest, like he couldn’t quite let go yet.

Theo stared at him.

The pure thought of not having Liam anymore hurt.

Like a hole tearing open in the middle of his ribcage.

He could lie. Could say he didn’t want it. Could pretend this didn’t matter—like he always had.

But it would be the biggest lie of his life.

He thought about Liam. About this angry, honest, obnoxiously loyal boy who’d tried so fucking hard. Who’d looked at him like he was worth saving when no one else had. Who let Theo be mean. Who kissed him just to kiss him. Who whispered stay like it cost him something.

He thought about how he hadn’t had a nightmare in weeks.

About how he didn’t hear Tara’s voice anymore, not when Liam was curled around him like a shield. About how Liam slept like someone protecting something. How Theo’s chest felt less hollow when Liam laid on it.

Some part of him—stupid, soft—wondered if Liam had his heart. Or hers. Or maybe both. And maybe that’s why nothing felt broken when he was here.

Theo whispered—

“…Yes.”

Liam blinked.

Eyes wide. Lips parted. Shock flickering across his face before it melted into something gentler.

Theo looked at him fully now.

Nodded once. “Yeah. I think maybe this could be…”

He trailed off.

Couldn’t say it.

Didn’t have to.

Because Liam leaned down, close enough their noses brushed.

And whispered, “Us?”

Theo exhaled.

One hand curled around the back of Liam’s neck.

He nodded.

Liam smiled.

Then kissed him—soft, reverent, a little shaky around the edges. His mouth moved slow, tongue tentative, like this was something new. Something worth savoring.

Theo pulled him in tighter.

And for the first time in a long time, he let himself want it.

The boy. The bed. The us.

The kiss deepened.

What started soft turned hungry.

Liam’s mouth was warm, open, insistent—like now that he had a piece of something real, he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t get enough. His hands slid over Theo’s chest, up his sides-

Theo let him.

Let Liam lean in and kiss the edge of his collarbone, lips brushing scars like they were sacred. Theo didn’t flinch. He let his head fall back, exposed his throat, felt Liam mouth at it hungrily.

More heat. More pressure.

Theo’s hips shifted instinctively, grinding up into Liam’s. They both gasped into each other’s mouths at the friction—too clothed, too much tension, not enough contact.

Liam kissed down his jaw. Over the curve of his throat. Bit gently just beneath his ear—light, teasing, barely enough to sting.

Theo hissed through his teeth. “Careful.”

Liam smiled against his skin.

And then paused.

His lips hovered at Theo’s throat for a second too long, breath shaky.

Then, softly—

“Would you…?”

Theo blinked, opened his eyes just as Liam lifted his head. His cheeks were pink, mouth still kiss-bruised, pupils blown wide.

“If this is still something you’d be okay with,” Liam said slowly, carefully, like he was picking the words apart with tweezers, “I mean—if it’s not too much—I was thinking maybe this time… you’d let me be the one to top.”

Theo stared at him.

For a second, he didn’t move.

And Liam, visibly nervous now, pulled back a fraction of an inch, eyes scanning Theo’s face like he expected the cruelest answer.

“You don’t have to,” Liam rushed. “If you don’t want to, I just—I thought maybe you’d—”

“Yes,” Theo said.

One word. Simple.

But it felt like peeling something open.

He swallowed.

Voice lower now, raspier: “Yeah. I think… I’d be okay with that.”

Because hadn’t he already given Liam everything else?

Hadn’t he already handed this boy his broken pieces and watched him hold them like glass?

This wasn’t weakness. It was something else.

Liam exhaled slowly. Like he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath.

Then he kissed Theo again—softer this time. Slower. Less about control, more about gratitude. More about them 

Theo fell into it.

Let Liam taste him.

Let Liam kiss like he had all night.

Their bodies shifted together, Theo lying back into the mattress, Liam moving with him until he was straddling Theo’s hips again—bare chest now, lean muscle flushed in the low light. He looked young. And real. And beautiful in a way that made Theo’s throat ache.

He touched Liam’s chest—just barely. Fingers tracing the soft rise of muscle, the faint slope of ribs beneath skin.

Liam shivered.

Theo smirked.

“Clothes,” Liam said, a little breathless.

Theo didn’t argue.

He pushed his sweats down slowly, let Liam help until they were off, tossed somewhere near the edge of the bed. Liam’s hand skimmed his thigh on the way down and didn’t leave. His thumb brushed over the inside of Theo’s knee, up to the curve of his hip, like he was memorizing.

Then he leaned down again. Kissed Theo slow. Deep.

Theo let him. Tilted his chin. Mouth opening to him.

And when Liam pulled back, fingers trembling slightly, he hesitated again.

“So, uh,” he said, clearing his throat, “I’ve never really—done it this way. I mean, not… not this part.”

Theo chuckled. Low. Rough.

“You mean you’ve never fucked a guy before.”

Liam flushed bright red.

Theo rolled his eyes, but it was gentler than usual. “Relax, Dunbar. You’re not giving a TED Talk.”

Liam huffed. “Just—tell me what to do.”

Theo propped himself up on his elbows, met Liam’s gaze with something just shy of tenderness.

His voice dropped. Dark. Confident. Still him.

“Lube first. Stretch me. Don’t skip prep unless you want me to rip your dick off.”

Liam made a small noise.

Theo smirked.

“Don’t look so scared,” he added. “I’ll tell you what to do.”

And he would.

Because Liam had asked.

Because Theo had said yes.

And now he was letting himself be seen. Touched. Claimed.

Not because he didn’t have power.

But because he was finally starting to believe maybe this—whatever the hell this was—meant he didn’t always need to fight to have it.

Liam leaned in again.

Kissed him one more time—hot, slow, just a little messy.

Theo lay back, arms no longer braced but relaxed, one hand gripping the pillow under his head, the other trailing along the edge of the blanket like he needed something to hold onto, just in case.

Liam was kneeling between his legs, looking down at him with wide eyes, pupils blown, cheeks flushed, chest bare and heaving.

“You sure?” Liam asked, voice a little hoarse.

Theo gave him a look. “Do I look unsure?”

And yeah—maybe his heart was pounding too loud, maybe he still didn’t believe he was doing this. Offering this. But he meant it. All of it.

Liam nodded once. Quick. Nervous.

Then reached for the lube.

His hands were trembling slightly as he opened the cap, and the soft click of the bottle sounded far too loud in the stillness of the room. He slicked his fingers, movements clumsy but focused, eyes flicking up every few seconds like he was checking for signs he was fucking it up already.

Theo smirked faintly. “Relax. I’ll walk you through it.”

He bent one leg slightly, let his thighs fall open.

And Liam stared 

Theo watched the way his mouth parted. The way his breath caught, chest shuddering. The way his scent shifted—arousal spiking so strong and sharp it made Theo’s head spin.

“Don’t just gawk,” Theo said, voice low, dark. “Touch me.”

Liam exhaled hard through his nose, then reached down.

His fingers—cool at first, slick with lube—touched Theo’s entrance hesitantly. A light graze. Barely pressure.

Theo’s eyes fluttered closed. “More.”

Liam pressed in—just the tip of one finger, slow and cautious.

Theo’s jaw clenched. The stretch was subtle, not enough to sting. Not yet.

“Go slow,” Theo murmured. “But not that slow.”

Liam pushed in deeper.

Theo’s breath hitched.

Liam’s eyes were glued to his face—like he was trying to memorize the way it changed. The way his lips parted. The way he blinked, slow and lazy, even though tension pulled tight through his frame.

Theo moaned softly—low and rough.

And that was when Liam whimpered.

Theo’s eyes snapped open, and fuck, the look on Liam’s face—

Eyes wide, mouth open, flush high on his cheeks.

“You good?” Theo asked, cocky.

Liam nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just—fuck. You…”

His voice cracked.

“You moaned.”

Theo gave him a lazy grin. “You’re turned on from fingering me?”

Liam flushed deeper but didn’t deny it.

His scent was thick now—like honey and heat, clinging to the air in heavy waves. Theo swore he could get drunk off it.

“You smell like you’re gonna fucking come untouched,” Theo muttered, smirk tugging at his mouth. “Just from making me feel good.”

Liam didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Theo moaned again—louder this time, when Liam crooked his finger just right. The pressure was careful, but it found the edge of something good. Something that made Theo’s hips twitch.

Liam whimpered again, biting his lip hard.

“God,” Theo groaned, head tipping back. “You’re pathetic.”

But it was affectionate, almost. Not his usual cruelty.

Liam’s finger moved slower now—learning the rhythm, getting bolder. Theo could feel the slick slide, the stretch, the way his body adjusted and opened, warm around Liam’s touch. Another finger joined, a bit clumsy, but eager.

Theo tensed for a second.

Breathed through it.

Then, once it settled—once Liam got both in deep, knuckles brushing—Theo moaned again, this one deeper, filthier.

“Yeah,” he gasped. “Right there.”

Liam made another sound, one that was all throat and heat and needing. Like Theo’s voice was enough to wreck him.

“Fuck,” Liam whispered. “You’re so…”

His voice caught again. “Theo, you’re so fucking hot like this.”

Theo groaned. Rolled his hips just slightly, forcing Liam’s fingers in deeper. The stretch burned now—but not in a way he minded. Not in a way that made him stop.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Theo managed, voice rough. “Keep going.”

Liam did.

Slow thrusts. Eager. A little uncoordinated, but determined. He tried curling his fingers again, and Theo shuddered. Bit back a moan.

“You feel—Jesus, you feel so tight,” Liam breathed, like he couldn’t help himself. “Can’t believe you’re letting me…”

Theo’s hand shot up—fisted in Liam’s hair. Pulled him down until their foreheads touched.

“You’re doing it,” Theo rasped. “Now shut up and don’t stop.”

Liam nodded. Swallowed hard.

Theo’s thighs were trembling now. Muscles twitching every time Liam pressed in just right. He could feel it building—pressure, heat, something that made his spine arch despite himself. His cock throbbed between them, leaking onto his stomach, untouched.

And Liam—Liam was panting. Still fingering him. Still watching Theo’s face like it was sacred. Like every sound he made was his.

Then Theo grabbed his wrist.

“Okay,” he breathed. “I’m ready.”

Liam froze.

“You sure?”

Theo nodded, letting go of his hand. “Yeah. Get on with it before I change my mind.”

Liam slowly—carefully—pulled his fingers out.

Theo’s whole body twitched at the loss. Slick clung to his thighs, his hole flexing slightly, empty and aching now.

He stared at the ceiling. Heart pounding.

Waiting.

Letting it happen.

Letting Liam have him.

Liam’s hand was trembling slightly as he slicked himself up, fingers moving slow over the length of his cock. Theo watched him from below—eyes sharp, jaw clenched, heart beating too loud in his chest. The sight of Liam like that—naked, flushed, breathing hard, hovering between his legs—shouldn’t have hit as hard as it did.

But it did.

Because this wasn’t just sex anymore.

This was Liam lining up to push inside him. To fill him. To fuck him.

To have him.

And all at once, Theo felt the shift hit too hard in his chest—like a spike of pressure under his sternum, like panic. Like he’d stepped into something he couldn’t crawl back out of.

It had been easier before.

When Theo had the control. When Liam was the one under him—shaking, crying, his. When Theo could make Liam break and still pretend it didn’t mean anything.

But now?

Now Liam was going to be inside him.

And once that happened—once Theo let him in like this—there wouldn’t be a going back.

His stomach tightened. A cold edge licked down his spine. He didn’t say stop.

Instead, his voice snapped out, harsh and biting:

“C’mon, Dunbar. You fucked Hayden, didn’t you? You should know how to push in.”

Liam’s hands froze.

Theo glared, trying to stay cold, trying not to feel how everything in his chest was starting to shake.

“You’ve been with girls. Shouldn’t be that hard.”

Liam’s jaw clenched.

“I’m not treating you like her.”

His voice was sharp. Quiet. Full of heat.

Theo’s smirk twisted, cruel at the edges. “No? Then what’s with the soft touch, Dunbar? You scared you’re gonna break me?”

Liam’s eyes burned into his. “I just… want to remember this.”

And then—without warning—he pushed in.

Theo gasped.

It wasn’t slow.

It wasn’t brutal, either.

It was steady. Intentional. All one long, drawn-out push that made Theo feel every inch. Made his body stretch wide around it, made his breath catch somewhere between a choke and a groan.

Because Liam—fuck—Liam had a big cock.

And it had been a long time since Theo bottomed. A long time since he let someone in. Since he let himself be open, vulnerable, like this.

His nails dug into the sheets.

A moan clawed up his throat, and he couldn’t stop it—didn’t want to.

Liam moaned too, almost helplessly, body shaking as he bottomed out, hips pressed flush, chest rising and falling like he was trying not to collapse.

They stayed like that for a second—both panting. Bodies trembling.

Liam’s voice came out rough, like sandpaper. “If I move now, I’ll come.”

Theo snorted.

His voice cracked, breathless and mean. “You’re pathetic.”

But Liam didn’t react.

Didn’t take the bait.

He just closed his eyes, like he was feeling all of it. Like it meant something.

Theo hated that.

Hated how sweet it felt. How careful. How Liam was still trying to be gentle, even with his cock buried in him to the hilt.

“Okay,” Theo said finally, voice tight. “You can move now.”

Liam nodded, forehead resting against Theo’s shoulder for a beat before he pulled back slowly. Just an inch. Then pressed back in.

Theo moaned—sharp, guttural.

“F-fuck…”

Liam whimpered too, hips trembling. His thrusts were slow but firm. He was trying to keep it steady, trying not to lose control.

And it was too much.

Theo wasn’t used to this.

To soft.

To being touched like he mattered.

His hands clenched into fists, and he tried to breathe through it, but the slow slide of Liam’s cock—that pressure, that heat—it made his throat tighten.

It was too intimate.

Too close.

Too much.

So he lashed out.

Voice shaking with venom, he spat, “You fucked Hayden like this too? Slow and sweet? No wonder she left.”

Liam froze.

His whole body went still. His cock still deep inside.

Theo expected him to retreat.

But instead—

Liam’s eyes snapped open. He thrust hard, once, deep and rough, forcing a startled moan out of Theo’s mouth. His hand came down hard—gripping Theo’s jaw, tilting his face up.

Then he bit him.

Right on the side of his neck.

Not enough to break skin, but enough to sting.

“Shut up about her,” Liam growled. “This isn’t about Hayden.”

Theo’s breath hitched.

Liam’s voice dropped, dangerous and trembling. “This is about us. If you don’t want it, fucking say it. Otherwise—stop pretending this doesn’t matter.”

Theo opened his mouth.

But nothing came out.

Because the worst part was—it did matter.

So he stilled.

The anger melted off his face, tension bleeding into something raw.

“I do want it,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I just…”

He trailed off.

Couldn’t finish.

Didn’t need to.

Because Liam kissed him.

Hard. Messy. Fierce.

Theo kissed back like he was drowning.

The kiss burned.

Hot and consuming, all tongue and teeth and desperation. Theo’s hands fisted in Liam’s hair, dragging him closer like he needed to be devoured or destroyed, he didn’t care which.

Liam was still inside him—deep, steady, thick—and when he finally started to move again, Theo felt it in his throat.

He gasped into Liam’s mouth as the slow grind turned into a rhythm—just enough friction, just enough depth. Liam thrust again, then again, finding that angle that made Theo shudder beneath him.

His back arched. His mouth broke from Liam’s. And then Theo did what he always did when he got too close to something that felt like more—

He ran his mouth.

“Oh—fuck—look at you,” he rasped, voice low, dripping filth. “You fuck like you were made for it. Who knew you’d be this good, Dunbar? All that repressed aggression finally doing something useful.”

Liam moaned—loud and raw—and the pace stuttered for half a second before he picked it up, faster now, harder.

Theo grinned through a groan.

“Yeah, that’s it. You like when I talk to you, don’t you? Like hearing how good your cock feels—how deep you are, how fucking full you’re making me—”

Liam gasped. His hips snapped forward faster now, harder, bruising.

“You gonna come from fucking me?” Theo taunted, breath hitching between thrusts. “From being inside me like this, making me moan like some fucktoy?”

Liam growled. Actually growled.

Theo’s eyes rolled back when Liam thrust even deeper—when he hit that spot again, and again, and again.

“Fuck—fuck, Liam—” Theo’s hands clawed down Liam’s back, nails raking skin, his voice warping into something close to a plea. “You’re so good at this. So fucking good—don’t stop—don’t you fucking dare stop—”

Liam didn’t stop.

He drove into him like it meant something.

Theo couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

It was too much. The angle. The stretch. The rhythm. The sound of their skin slapping, the slick glide of Liam’s cock, the way Theo’s own was twitching, untouched, against his stomach.

The way Liam grunted every time he bottomed out. The way his jaw clenched like he was holding back everything. The way his eyes stayed locked on Theo’s face—watching him break apart.

And fuck, Theo was breaking.

“Liam—” he gasped, head falling back, voice cracking, “I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—”

Liam didn’t slow.

Didn’t say anything.

Just fucked him through it—deeper, faster, harder.

And Theo came.

With a broken moan, his body arched up off the mattress, legs trembling around Liam’s waist, his cock spurting hot between them. His vision went white. His pulse skipped. His entire body clenched around Liam’s cock, still moving inside him, still filling him.

“Jesus—fuck—” he choked, shuddering through it, every nerve ending lit up, his whole body reeling.

Liam stilled.

His arms were shaking.

His jaw clenched so tight it looked painful.

He didn’t come.

But he was right there, Theo could feel it—could feel the twitch of Liam’s cock inside him, the tension winding tighter in his back and shoulders, the desperate shudder in his breath as he barely held on.

Theo blinked up at him, body still twitching from his orgasm, the slow aftershocks licking down his spine like fire. His hole flexed involuntarily around Liam, and that alone made Liam twitch—a sharp, involuntary thrust of his hips that drew a sharp moan out of both of them.

Then—he started moving again.

Not slow.

Not sweet.

At least not at first.

His rhythm was rough. Sharp. Staccato. Like he’d held back as long as he could and now couldn’t stop. His thrusts were deeper than before, more desperate, more raw—the wet sound of his cock slamming back into Theo filled the room, thick and obscene. Theo’s body was too sensitive, still riding the edge of his last orgasm, nerves lit up and screaming, but it didn’t stop him from moaning again.

Liam fucked him through it—driven now, lost to the pace.

His face was tense, mouth open, breath ragged.

Theo gripped the sheets, head falling back, neck exposed, sweat trailing down his temple.

“God—fuck, Liam—”

Liam’s hands found Theo’s wrists.

He gripped them hard at first—like restraint, like claiming—and then, slowly, he laced their fingers together. Twined them tight.

Theo’s chest hitched.

He wasn’t expecting that.

It was so... intimate.

His body locked beneath the weight of it, his breath stalling as Liam leaned down, closer now, still fucking into him like he couldn’t stop—but their hands stayed tangled, clasped tight between them like an anchor.

Liam’s face dropped into Theo’s neck.

His mouth was hot, open, breath dragging hard against Theo’s skin as he choked on a moan. His rhythm stuttered once, twice, and Theo felt the tension snap—

Liam came.

It hit like a wave—his whole body trembling, cock pulsing deep inside, thick, hot,endless. He sobbed a sound into Theo’s neck that was equal parts groan and gasp, like he didn’t know if it felt good or if it was wrecking him.

Theo’s body reacted—another pulse of pleasure tearing through him, his already-spent cock leaking again across his stomach, his thighs locking tighter around Liam’s hips.

It wasn’t a full second orgasm—but it didn’t matter.

His body didn’t stop feeling.

Because Liam was still inside him, still moaning against his skin, still holding his hands, fingers gripped like a lifeline.

Theo shivered.

Liam didn’t move for a long moment.

He stayed buried deep, chest pressed against Theo’s, their hands still tangled between them like neither of them knew how to let go. His face was still in Theo’s neck, breathing hard, flushed all the way down to his chest.

Theo’s thighs ached from the stretch. His spine felt like liquid. His skin was still slick with sweat and come and heat, every inch of him tingling like Liam had carved himself into Theo’s nerves, molecule by molecule.

Liam finally shifted, just enough to lift his head.

His eyes were wide—bright, open, pupils still blown, mouth pink and swollen from kissing. His whole expression was stunned. Worshipful. Like he couldn’t believe what just happened.

“That was so good,” he whispered, voice low, almost reverent.

Theo blinked up at him, breath uneven. “Yeah?”

Liam nodded, breath catching in his throat. “Did you… did you like it?”

Theo didn’t answer right away.

He could’ve said something cruel. Teasing. Deflecting.

Instead, he gave Liam a long, steady look, then said, simply:

“Yeah.”

Liam’s brows lifted slightly, surprised—like he didn’t expect honesty from Theo.

Theo smirked. His voice dropped, still hoarse, still dark. “You did good.”

And fuck, the way Liam reacted—

It was visceral. Almost innocent. Like praise from Theo hit somewhere deep inside him he didn’t know was exposed. He bit his lip. Smiled.

No, beamed.

It wasn’t smug. It was real. Unfiltered. Happy in a way Theo wasn’t ready for.

Liam leaned down again, kissed him. A soft press of lips—no tongue, no desperation. Just a kiss like thanks. Like something.

Then he groaned, twitching slightly, as he slowly slipped out of Theo.

Theo’s whole body flinched at the loss, hips jerking with oversensitivity, his hole aching and fluttering around the sudden emptiness.

And Liam… stared.

Wide-eyed.

Enthralled.

His come trickled out of Theo—slick and slow, smearing across the inside of Theo’s thighs, glistening in the low light.

Liam couldn’t stop looking.

Theo raised a brow, already recovering some edge. “You gonna keep gawking, or get a towel?”

Liam’s gaze flicked up, dazed. “That’s so hot.”

Theo rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

But there was no real venom behind it.

Eventually, Liam got up. His legs shook. Theo smirked to himself as he dragged himself upright, grimacing at the soreness in his hips. They moved around each other quietly, unspoken tension replaced by the sticky, exhausted satisfaction of something well-fucked.

Liam led the way to the bathroom.

The shower was warm.

The bathroom small.

But somehow, it didn’t feel cramped. Just quiet. Close.

Theo stepped under the spray, groaning at the heat against his back. Liam followed, hovering just behind him like he wasn’t sure what to do next. His hands skimmed down Theo’s sides—tentative, gentle.

Theo let him.

Let Liam reach for the body wash and lather his hands. Let him run his fingers over Theo’s chest, slow and reverent, eyes fixed on the pale scars that marred his skin like a map of damage.

Liam’s thumb traced one near Theo’s ribs.

Theo flinched.

Not from pain.

From the look on Liam’s face.

“You did good,” Theo said again, gruffly. “Even if you fuck like a lovesick golden retriever.”

Liam snorted—but smiled. Big. Like that was the best compliment he’d ever gotten.

He leaned in. Pressed a kiss to Theo’s shoulder and slid his arms around Theo’s waist. His cheek rested against Theo’s shoulder, breath ghosting over damp skin, and he murmured, barely audible:

“Maybe I am.”

Theo didn’t answer.

Just let it sit there, wet and soft and clinging, like steam curling in the space between them.

Because maybe Liam was. Maybe that’s exactly what made all of this dangerous.

He stepped out first, grabbing a towel and tossing one toward Liam, who caught it on reflex but didn’t stop grinning at him. That dopey, post-sex, post-shower smile that made Theo want to either shove him or kiss him again. Possibly both.

He opted for drying off.

Back in Liam’s room, the bed looked too soft. Too inviting.

Theo tugged on his now-familiar pair of borrowed sweats. He dropped onto the bed without thinking, head falling back against the pillow.

And then Liam was there.

Sliding in next to him, skin still warm from the shower, curls damp and sticking to his forehead. His eyes flicked to Theo’s mouth once, then twice.

Theo caught the look.

He didn’t say anything—just leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t deep. Wasn’t dirty. Wasn’t even about heat anymore.

It was slow.

Intentional.

Liam hummed against his mouth—something small and happy and unbearably fond. He smiled mid-kiss, and Theo could feel it.

He pulled back slightly. “You’re so fucking pleased with yourself.”

Liam shrugged, grinning wider. “Can you blame me?”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

But the corner of his mouth twitched.

He turned onto his side, arm slung across Liam’s stomach, cheek against the pillow, eyes half-lidded now. And Liam—so open, always so damn open—turned too, facing him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The silence stretched, soft and low.

Theo’s hand moved lazily across Liam’s side—thumb brushing the faint dip of his waist, fingers tracing idle patterns against warm skin.

And then, without warning, he said—

“You’re the only one who gets this.”

Liam blinked.

Theo didn’t look at him when he said it. Just kept tracing, steady and calm, like he was talking about the weather. “I wasn’t supposed to be able to do this. Wasn’t wired for it. I mean, fuck—relationships? I was a walking weapon by the time I was thirteen. I didn’t have people. I had objectives. And pain.”

Liam didn’t speak. Just listened.

Theo’s eyes stayed on his hand.

“But you…” he hesitated. Then forced the rest out. “You didn’t ask for anything I couldn’t give. You didn’t flinch. Even when I was cruel. Even when I wanted to make you push me away.”

Theo’s fingers curled lightly around Liam’s wrist.

“And I hate how that made me want you more.”

Liam’s breath hitched.

But he didn’t interrupt.

Theo finally looked up—just a glance, brief and sharp.

“And I like you,” he added, voice quieter. More honest. “A lot more than I should.”

Liam’s smile returned—but this time, it was softer. Like he knew what that cost Theo to say.

Theo rolled his eyes again, but there was no bite. “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

Liam’s laugh shook the bed. “Noted.”

Then he leaned in. Pressed another kiss to Theo’s mouth. Gentle. Just there.