108 — Zander POV
Ivan shy?
My Ivan… shy?
I blink down at him, the flush spreading across his cheeks, his lashes low. His fingers clutch the sheets like he can't quite decide whether to pull me closer or cover himself.
And stars help me—he's breathtaking.
That lean, delicate frame—soft and slender, yet strong in ways only I know. The gentle curve of his waist, the dip of his stomach, that smooth pale skin glowing under the warm lamplight.
I've seen him like this countless times—but tonight feels different. Like it's the first time all over again.
Because he's mine now. Truly mine.
I settle over him, taking my time, letting my gaze drink in every inch of him. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths. There's a slight tremble in his arms, but when I catch his eyes—dark, shimmering—he doesn't look away.
Not this time.
Slowly, I lean in, brushing my lips over the corner of his mouth—gentle. Patient.
I feel him relax, his fingers uncurling from the sheets to slide up around my shoulders. He lets out a breathless sound, almost a sigh, that sends heat pooling low in my stomach.
"You're so beautiful," I whisper, voice rougher than I intend.
He shivers again.
My lips trail lower, pressing soft, slow kisses down his throat, over the line of his collarbone.
His hands find my back, fingertips tracing my skin, hesitant at first—then firmer, pulling me closer.
I groan quietly against his neck. The feel of him—warm, pliant, trusting beneath me—is almost too much.
I lift my head, meeting his gaze once more. His cheeks are still flushed, but there's something in his eyes now—a softness. An openness that undoes me.
I kiss him again—deeper this time, pouring everything into it.
He responds, his mouth parting beneath mine, welcoming me in. His fingers tangle in my hair, his body arching up into me.
I press closer, chest to chest, skin to skin. His heart races under my palms, matching my own.
And when my hand drifts lower, sliding over the curve of his hip, he gasps softly against my lips.
I'm dying to get in and just do what we normally do, frantic and fast but that's not happening today.
My hand wraps around his waist, fingers splaying wide as I pull him impossibly closer.
I can feel every soft line of him now—his bare skin hot against mine, the faint tremble running through his body.
He lets out another soft sound, breath catching when my lips trail along his jaw, slow and lingering.
I shift my weight just enough, giving myself room to slide my hand lower. Across the small of his back… tracing along the curve of his spine… until my fingers settle just above the swell of his ass.
He arches instinctively, pressing into my touch, and gods—I almost lose it right there.
I drag my mouth down his throat again, savoring the way he tilts his head to give me more. His scent—sweet, dizzying, utterly him—wraps around me, winding tighter with every breath.
I want to feel him melt. I want him to know—without a single doubt—just how much he's loved. Cherished.
My hand moves again, gliding back up to his ribs, thumb brushing the edge of his chest. His breath stutters.
His fingers tighten in my hair.
"Zander…" he whispers, voice barely there, full of heat and want.
I lift my head, meeting those dark, shining eyes. His cheeks are still flushed, lips swollen from my kisses.
He's beautiful. Devastatingly so.
And mine.
I lean in, kissing him again—slower this time. Deep and thorough.
My free hand cups his cheek, thumb brushing tenderly over his skin.
When we part, I rest my forehead against his, breath shallow.
I don't have to say it out loud he knows, it's in my eyes, it's in his, I pause taking his arm and placing a kiss on our interlocked fingers.
I don't have to say it out loud. He knows.
It's in my eyes. It's in his.
I pause for a moment, fingers lacing through his, and I lift our hands between us—pressing a soft kiss to the back of his hand. Then another. Slow, lingering.
A quiet promise.
He watches me with wide eyes, chest rising a little quicker now, lips parted in anticipation.
I move his legs apart with my knees—gentle, giving him time—then lower myself between them, settling close.
Today... today everything feels heightened. Every breath, every glance, every brush of skin.
I can hear the faint hitch in his breath, see the way his thighs tremble slightly beneath my touch.
I drag my hands slowly up the length of his thighs, savoring the warmth of his skin, the way he shudders beneath my palms. My mouth follows, kissing a path upward—slow and deliberate.
He whimpers softly, hips shifting instinctively toward me.
"Zander…" he breathes, voice barely there—high and wanting.
I glance up, meeting his gaze. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes blown wide with heat.
I smile softly, and lean in again—brushing my mouth over the delicate skin of his inner thigh, teeth scraping lightly before I soothe the spot with my tongue.
His fingers clutch at the sheets, breath stuttering.
And gods—I love this.
I love watching him like this—laid out beneath me, trembling, trusting, desperate for more.
I shift slightly, hands sliding up to his waist, steadying him. My lips trail higher, teasing, coaxing soft gasps from his throat.
When I finally reach him—when I take him into my mouth—he arches with a sharp cry, head falling back against the pillows.
His hands fly to my hair, fingers threading through the strands, clutching tight as I work him slowly, carefully—tongue and lips moving with purpose.
"Ah—Zander—" his voice catches, broken and breathless.
I hum softly, the vibration pulling another helpless sound from him.
Every flick of my tongue, every slow glide of my mouth—he's shaking now, hips trembling beneath my grip.
But I'm not rushing this.
I want him to feel everything.
To come undone so completely he forgets the world outside this cabin.
He's already close—I can feel it in the way his thighs tense, in the desperate little noises spilling from his lips.
I glance up again, and the sight of him—head thrown back, cheeks flushed deep pink, mouth open in a breathless moan—nearly undoes me.
I take him deeper, slow and thorough, and that's it—his whole body arches off the bed, a strangled cry tearing from him as he falls apart.
His release hits hard, overwhelming, leaving him trembling and breathless beneath me.
I ease him through it, gentle now, soft licks and kisses as his body slowly relaxes.
When I finally let go, I press a lingering kiss to his inner thigh and trail soft kisses back up his body.
By the time I reach his lips again, he's a flushed, panting mess—eyes hazy, chest still heaving.
I kiss him slow, deep, savoring the taste of him, the way he melts against me.
And when we finally break apart, he's smiling—soft, dazed.