Aidan’s fingers still rested against the back of Colt’s neck, trembling as if they were holding onto the last thread of reality. The warmth that had pulsed beneath his touch just seconds ago had faded, replaced by a smooth, unyielding surface, as if the life within had been sealed away beneath layers of marble.
“Colt... are you there?” His voice was barely a whisper, breath shaky, chest rising and falling faster than it should. He knew the answer before he even finished asking, but he asked anyway—somewhere between desperation and disbelief.
No response.
His hand slid slowly away, fingertips brushing the nape of Colt’s neck like a final, reluctant goodbye. His eyes roamed over the frozen masterpiece before him, from the perfectly flexed biceps to the powerful swell of the chest, every muscle locked in pristine form. Even Colt’s lips, soft yet motionless, teased him—slightly parted, as if mid-breath. The lack of motion made them even more tempting.
Aidan stepped back, his pulse pounding like war drums, each beat tangled with exhilaration and dread. His eyes darted back to Colt’s parted lips, imagining how they’d feel pressed against his skin—soft, warm, claiming. Part of him wanted to run, to escape the overwhelming weight of power he had just wielded, but another part—the one rooted in something darker, more primal—craved to stay, to explore every consequence of what he had done. I did this. The thought hit him like a jolt, sending a rush of heat straight through his core. He had control—complete, undeniable control. Colt, this vision of masculine perfection, was under his touch, his command. He wasn’t just observing anymore; he was the one dictating how this flawless body stood, posed, displayed.
His gaze drifted lower, tracing the carved ridges of Colt’s abdomen, the V-lines that seemed to beckon him further. The sensation of power tightened something deep in Aidan’s chest, spreading warmth lower, leaving him lightheaded but hungry.
Is this what Damian feels every time he touches him?
The thought burned hotter than he expected. His breath hitched as his eyes lingered on the perfect line of Colt’s hips, where the tight fabric below strained against the unspoken promise of what lay beneath. His hand, still tingling from touching the switch, flexed involuntarily, as if craving to explore further.
He licked his lips, his body betraying him. “This shouldn’t be this hot,” he muttered under his breath, but the lie dissolved the moment the words left him. It is. It’s fucking incredible.
Colt, statuesque and immovable, was a fantasy given form—one that Aidan hadn’t even known he needed until now, though something deep inside him stirred as if it had always been waiting for this.
With a shaky breath, Aidan reached out again, this time not for the switch but for the sculpted chest in front of him. His hands glided across Colt’s skin, tracing every ridge of muscle, every taut tendon beneath. His fingertips skimmed over the hard swell of his pectorals, marveling at their size and firmness. He cupped them gently, feeling the dense muscle fill his palms, the weight of each pec intoxicating. His thumbs brushed over Colt’s nipples—already hard, like tiny peaks demanding attention. He circled them slowly, teasing, until a flick of his thumb over one sent a shiver through his own body. Sliding further down, his hands explored the defined grooves between Colt’s abs, as if mapping sacred territory, each touch a revelation that made Aidan’s breath grow heavier.
He pressed his palms flat against the warm expanse of muscle, savoring the firmness beneath. His breath quickened, lips parting as his thumbs brushed circles over Colt’s pecs, teasing the sensitive peaks of his nipples again, harder this time. Colt’s stillness made it even more intoxicating—Aidan had all the control. His hands wandered upward, over the strong shoulders and along the curve of Colt’s neck. There was no resistance, only the silent invitation of frozen stillness.
Aidan’s gaze flicked downward, catching sight of the tight denim wrapping around Colt’s hips. His breath hitched as he noticed the unmistakable bulge straining against the fabric. The realization hit him hard—Colt hadn’t frozen in some neutral state. No, he’d been aroused, just like Aidan.
The heat pooling in Aidan’s core flared. He wanted this, too. The thought pulsed through him, electric and thrilling. His fingers twitched, hovering just above the waistband of the jeans, before sliding lower. His palm flattened against the denim, pressing firmly as he traced the thick outline beneath, heat radiating through the fabric and straight into Aidan’s palm. His fingers flexed, testing the firmness, and a low groan slipped from his throat as he imagined peeling the jeans away. The warmth radiated through the fabric, and Aidan’s breath hitched as he felt it—the thick, unyielding hardness of Colt’s arousal, frozen in place but unmistakably present. His hand explored slowly, savoring the sensation, fingers mapping every curve and ridge. The sheer size beneath his palm sent a shiver down his spine, his own body responding with a rush of heat that made his knees tremble.
Suddenly, a sharp noise echoed from outside—the scrape of something against the wall, or perhaps a distant thud. Aidan's breath caught, heart lurching as adrenaline flooded his veins, momentarily snapping him from his trance. Startled, Aidan jerked his hand back, but in his haste, his fingers hooked into the waistband of Colt’s jeans and tugged sharply. The unexpected pull tilted Colt’s balance just enough, setting off a slow, inevitable lean forward.
Colt, locked in his rigid pose, lost his delicate balance and tipped forward, his towering frame collapsing straight toward Aidan. Eyes wide, Aidan scrambled to react, but Colt’s weight was too much, too sudden. He tried to catch him, arms outstretched, but the momentum was overwhelming.
With a heavy thud, Aidan hit the floor, Colt landing squarely on top of him, his massive body pinning Aidan down. The hard ridge of Colt’s arousal pressed directly against Aidan’s thigh, sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine. For a brief moment, Aidan lay there, dazed, heart pounding in his chest. The heat of Colt’s solid form pressed against him from chest to thighs, the sheer mass of muscle making escape feel impossible.
"Fuck," Aidan breathed, struggling to orient himself. He wiggled beneath Colt’s weight, hands pushing against the sculpted chest. Colt’s body was warm and immovable, as if molded directly into him. He’s heavier than he looks. The realization pulsed through him, equal parts intimidating and thrilling.
Pinned and breathless, Aidan couldn’t help but notice how perfectly Colt’s frame aligned with his own, every curve and bulge pressing into him with startling precision. His fingers slid along Colt’s torso, more out of necessity than curiosity—but the heat flaring in his chest betrayed the thrill coursing through him.
I’m trapped, Aidan thought, biting his lip. And I’m not sure I want to be free.
Half frustrated and half aroused, Aidan reached out blindly, his hand searching through the press of warmth and muscle until his fingertips grazed the back of Colt’s neck. His breath quickened when he found it—the subtle bump beneath the skin, like a hidden key.
"There it is," he murmured, voice thick with anticipation.
He pressed the switch.
In an instant, the rigidity melted away. Colt’s muscular frame collapsed onto Aidan like a ragdoll, heavy and warm, a weight that felt both overwhelming and comforting.
Colt stirred after mere seconds, blinking rapidly as life returned to his eyes. A slow, teasing smile spread across his lips as he realized their position, still half-draped over Aidan. "I told you to keep me steady," he chuckled, voice smooth and warm, still hovering above him.
Aidan's cheeks flushed. "I see that now," he said, breathless. "You okay?"
"I should be asking you that," Colt replied, his grin widening. He shifted his weight slightly but didn’t move far, his chest still pressed against Aidan’s. "You broke my fall perfectly. Are you hurt?"
Aidan exhaled shakily, a small laugh escaping his lips. "No, I’m... I’m good. Really good."
Colt smirked. "That’s my fault. We should have secured me better to the platform. I’m glad you weren’t hurt. I know I’m... kind of heavy."
Aidan swallowed hard, eyes locked on Colt’s as heat coiled low in his belly. "I noticed."
"Good," Colt said softly, his gaze flickering down to Aidan’s lips for a moment before he pushed himself up slightly, giving them both a chance to breathe—though neither of them seemed eager to fully separate.
Aidan hesitated, breath catching as uncertainty warred with desire. But the need to feel Colt against him again overwhelmed the doubt, and before he could stop himself, he reached up, grabbing Colt’s arm and tugging him back down. Their bodies collided once more, chests pressed together, warmth spreading between them like wildfire. Aidan’s hand slid up Colt’s neck, fingers curling behind it as he pulled him closer. Their lips met in a crash of need, a kiss that was anything but gentle.
Colt responded instantly, his mouth opening against Aidan’s, tongues colliding and tangling in a messy, desperate rhythm. Aidan whimpered into the kiss, grinding up into Colt as their bodies melted together, friction building deliciously between them. The weight of Colt on top of him grounded Aidan, their breaths mingling as the kiss deepened. His fingers tangled in Colt’s hair, holding him in place as if letting go would break the spell.
Colt’s hand roamed down Aidan’s side, tracing the curves of his waist and gripping firmly at his hip. The kiss turned molten, each movement more desperate than the last, as if they were both making up for lost time.