As soon as they were inside the room, Helios turned silently toward the door and locked it. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest he could almost hear it in his ears. Davis had actually followed him. A lucky coincidence? No—more like a damn stroke of fate.
Without hurry, he drew the heavy curtains closed, dimming the light from outside. Then he switched on the small lamp on his nightstand. Its warm, soft glow bathed the room in a gentle golden aura—just bright enough to read a book by. But tonight wasn't about words. Not about pages or chapters at least.
"Helios…" Davis's voice was a deep, velvety timbre—quiet, but rich. And it sent a shiver down Helios's spine that went straight to his core.
He didn't respond. Instead, he stepped closer, placed his hands on Davis's cheeks and kissed him. No hesitation, no question. The kiss was direct, demanding, charged. And Davis returned it instantly, as if he'd been waiting for it all along. Their bodies found each other effortlessly. Helios pressed himself against him, felt the heat radiating from Davis—and cursed every single layer of fabric still between them. Skin to skin—that's what he wanted. That was what he needed the most right now.
Davis smelled of sweat—sharp, salty, intense. Normally, Helios hated the scent of a post-training body. But with Davis, it was different. He smelled like strength. Like something familiar. Like longing. The scent alone was enough to leave Helios breathless.
"It's still way too early…" Davis murmured against his lips, his voice a soft, velvety whisper. Yet he made no move to pull away.
"That's still my decision," Helios replied quietly, with a grin that promised far more than words ever could.
His hands slid over Davis' chest, feeling the soaked fabric of his shirt. In one smooth motion, Helios pulled it over his head and let it fall carelessly to the floor. The sight made his breath catch for a moment—Davis, bare to the waist, skin glistening, muscles tense from training, and yet stunningly beautiful.
He kissed him again—deeper, slower, more demanding. Their lips melted into one another, their tongues dancing a sensual rhythm—urgent one moment, tender the next. Helios moaned softly as Davis' tongue delved deeper, exploring him like it was the first time. And maybe, in a way, it was. After all this time, the waiting and all the pain he had to endure in the last weeks.
Davis slowed the pace, and Helios followed his lead without hesitation. Slower might be better—he wasn't fully healed yet. But it wasn't just reason slowing them down. It was the desire to savor every second. To soak in every feeling. Everything else faded into the background.
And still—his desire didn't waver. He wanted to taste Davis, to feel him, to have him—everywhere. At the same time, a part of him longed for a shower, to wash away the sweat, to feel clean and ready for what was about to happen. And yet, just as strongly, was the urge to have Davis take him now, without hesitation—raw and unfiltered.
His mind was a feverish swirl of images—Davis above him, their bodies tangled together, his lips on Helios' skin, his name spoken in that rough, low voice he used only for him. It was too much. But at the same moment it was exactly right.
Davis wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in closer with one fluid movement. One hand tangled deep in Helios' messy hair, the other slid slowly down his back—inch by inch. Helios trembled slightly, not from cold, but from arousal.
Every inch that Davis' hand traveled sent new shivers racing through him. Hot, electric pulses zipped through his veins, pooling deep inside, where desire was already building like a storm. He was hard—and from the pressure between them, he could feel Davis was too.
Slowly, Helios began to grind against him, seeking more friction, more closeness. The fabric between them—damp, sticky, in the way—became torture. He wanted skin. Nothing but skin.
Davis' grip tightened. His hands cupped Helios' buttcheeks, kneading him with demanding intent, as his kiss shifted. It grew hungrier and more desperate. Helios moaned softly into the searing connection of their mouths, surrendering completely to the moment, to this man.
"Davis…" His name was just a breath between kisses - half plea, half confession.
Davis gently guided him backward, leading him across the room with slow, steady movements, while his hands grabbed Helios' shirt and pulled it over his head. The fabric joined Davis' own shirt on the floor—tossed aside without a thought. Their bare chests met—hot and damp.
Helios' knees touched the edge of the bed. A moment later, he fell back onto it, breathless and tense with anticipation. The thought of a shower had long since vanished—replaced by the urgent, immediate need to feel Davis close.
Davis followed him, sliding between his legs, lowering himself onto him—not with his full weight, but carefully, gently. Helios could feel the strength in him, but also the restraint with which Davis held him. As if he were something precious. Something rare and valuable, but also fragile.
Their lips found each other again—hot, slow, demanding. The kiss was a confession, a promise. Helios could taste Davis' desire, feel the faint tremble in his body, barely held in check.
He bent his knees slightly, shifting his legs to ease the pressure on his side, where the scar was still sensitive. He also wanted to make room for Davis.
Davis finally pulled away from Helios' lips, his gaze searching his. A thumb brushed tenderly over Helios' cheek—almost reverently—and what Helios saw in his eyes made his breath catch.
"Do you really want this?" His voice was low but deep. Full of restraint—and readiness, if only Helios would allow it.
Helios placed his hand over Davis', pressed it gently to his cheek, closed his eyes for a moment—then opened them again and spoke with a raw voice:
"More than anything right now."
Davis raised an eyebrow. "Even more than getting back into the lab?" he teased, a crooked grin playing on his lips.
Helios laughed softly and smacked his bare chest playfully. "Idiot. I can't think of anything right now except wanting to feel you inside me."
For a moment, Davis just looked at him—and his expression changed. It grew softer. Warmer. Deeper. Full of affection.
This man was his. Helios' alone.
Then he leaned down and kissed him again—brief, but full of feeling.
"Tell me if it hurts," he murmured, his voice low, rough—quiet, but insistent.
Without waiting for an answer, Davis began to lower himself, kissing his way downward—each fleeting brush of his lips seared into Helios' heated skin like liquid fire. It was as if every kiss left a glowing trail behind. Helios' abdominal muscles tensed involuntarily—out of anticipation, out of want, out of the sweet, aching ache of what was building between them.
Davis' lips found Helios' nipples—first one, then the other—teasing them with his tongue, sucking gently, while his free hand wandered slowly to the other, rubbing it softly between two fingers. Helios didn't feel an overwhelming rush of pleasure—but it was pleasant, almost soothing. Davis knew exactly what he was doing. Helios relaxed under his touch.
He didn't linger long. The kisses left a damp sheen on Helios' skin, and a moment later, the cool air brushed over it—sending a subtle, electrifying shiver down his spine that made him moan again. The tension in his body grew stronger. More impatient.
As much as Helios loved the foreplay, as much as he adored Davis' tenderness—his body craved more. He needed to feel Davis deep inside him, in places only his beloved could reach. He craved the moment where they would become one. But he also knew: Davis would take his time. He wasn't the type to rush things—especially not now, when Helios' wound was still healing. He would prepare him. Thoroughly, lovingly and with so much patience that it would kill Helios with impatience.
And that only made Helios want him more.
Davis paused as his lips reached the scar on Helios' side. He didn't ignore it—he touched it deliberately, with a thumb that stroked gently over it, as if acknowledging it. Then he kissed it. Carefully. With a tenderness that made Helios' throat tighten. His tongue traced over the sensitive skin so lightly, Helios wasn't sure whether he should shiver or melt.
Then he continued downward. Kiss by kiss.
By the time Davis reached the waistband of Helios' pants, their eyes met. Helios' gaze was fixed entirely on him, lips parted slightly. Davis undid his pants with slow, practiced hands—underwear included. Before Helios could even fully process what was happening, he was completely naked on the bed, his skin feverish with anticipation.
Davis let his gaze travel over him—slowly, deliberately—as if memorizing every inch. Then he leaned back in, his hands gliding along Helios' sides, his hips, his thighs. Every touch was a caress, a promise. Helios was burning. Inside and out. He wanted him. Now.
Finally, Davis knelt at the edge of the bed, placed his hands around Helios' hips, and pulled him closer, until his butt rested right at the edge. Helios placed his feet on Davis' shoulders, opened himself to him, surrendered.
Davis' gaze was fixed on him. Dark. Hungry. Full of desire—but also that focused intensity that always stole Helios' breath. That look said: I'm not just going to take you. I'm going to feel you. Taste you. Break you apart—and put you back together again.
He wrapped his hand around Helios' length, then ran his tongue from the base to the tip, which was already slick with arousal. A crooked, seductive grin spread across Davis' lips—bold, confident, and irresistibly teasing. Helios let out a soft moan, his fingers gripping the blanket beneath him.
Then Davis' mouth enveloped him.
Warm. Wet. Perfect.
He moved slowly, taking him in, sucking gently, playing with his tongue while his hand mirrored the rhythm, stroking along the shaft. Helios moaned louder, letting his head sink back into the pillow, eyes fluttering shut. His hands found Davis' hair, threading through it, holding him—not forcefully, but with intent.
It felt so good, so completely consuming, that all thoughts faded into nothingness. All that remained was this moment.
Davis' free hand traveled lower, caressing the sensitive skin behind, exploring until it reached his entrance—hot, pulsing, ready. He began to massage gently, applying the faintest pressure before pulling back.
Then suddenly, Helios felt something cool against his flushed skin—slick and smooth.
He flinched slightly, inhaling sharply.
Lube. When the hell did he—? Probably earlier. Maybe while Helios had been distracted with the curtains. Maybe even before that. It didn't matter. What mattered was: Davis had thought of everything.
A finger slipped into him. Slowly and carefully working him open. Helios gasped—but it wasn't pain, just that tingling, stretching sensation. His muscles tensed slightly, his body reacting instantly.
A moment later, a second finger followed—just as gentle, just as practiced. Davis moved them with a steady rhythm, gradually preparing him, opening him with care. Helios' breath came quicker now, soft sounds slipping from his lips.
He'd never been more grateful for his meticulous personal routine. Two hours ago, he wouldn't have even dreamed he'd end up in bed with Davis today. But now, in this moment, it made everything easier. Freed him. No shame. No holding back.
A raw, guttural sound tore from his throat as Davis' fingers found that perfect spot deep inside. For a split second, his mind blanked—overwhelmed by the electric jolt shooting through him, radiating from his core like lightning. His abs tightened, his legs tensed, his whole body trembled under Davis' touch.
Davis sucked harder at the same time, his mouth hot and relentless, moving in rhythm. His fingers worked in perfect harmony, hitting that same spot over and over—unyielding yet controlled, as if he were reshaping Helios into something entirely his own.
When Davis finally slipped in a third finger, Helios barely registered it—he was already so lost in the overwhelming haze of sensation. He moaned loudly, his head falling back into the pillows, fingers digging into the blanket.
And then he came.
Harder than ever before, it was such an overwhelming feeling that he hadn't felt for such a long time.
His entire body tensed in that singular moment, his abdominal muscles contracting violently. A sharp sting flared through his scar, making him flinch. For the briefest instant, there was a flicker of worry—had it been too soon? Too intense? But as the orgasm faded, so did the pain, as if the climax had washed it all away.
Helios lay there, gasping, chest rising and falling rapidly. He felt completely relaxed, exhausted—and yet full of anticipation.
Davis finally pulled back, straightened up, and with one quick motion, wiped his chin, still damp from what he had just done to Helios. Propping himself up on his elbows, Helios reached for Davis' waistband—ready to return the favor. But Davis stopped him.
He placed two fingers under Helios' chin, lifting his face, gently guiding his gaze to meet his own. Their eyes locked—hot, intense, unmistakably charged.
"Lie back, Helios," Davis murmured, his voice low and resonant.
He was in control—and Helios was more than willing to give it to him.
Trembling slightly, Helios obeyed. He shifted to the center of the bed, lay back down, eyes fixed on Davis, who slowly, unhurriedly began to slide down his pants. Helios followed every movement with feverish attention, drinking in the sight of Davis' sculpted body—every line, every curve, every taut muscle beneath the skin.
When Davis stood fully naked before him, Helios' eyes dropped to his length. Which stood up hard, proud and it was undeniably impressive. He swallowed, and his anticipation flared back to life. This man would be his death someday.
All thoughts of caution, of restraint, vanished the moment Davis approached. Like a predator. Ready to claim his prey.
Their lips met again. The kiss was deep, slow, and lingering. Davis still tasted faintly of Helios, which only made Helios crave him more. Then Davis gently turned him onto his side, nestling close behind him, his chest against Helios' back, his breath hot against the nape of his neck.
Davis' length lay heavy and hot between Helios' thighs as he rolled his hips in slow, teasing motions—just enough to drive him wild. He kissed the back of Helios' neck, his shoulder, and caressed him—chest, stomach, hips, thighs.
When Davis' hand touched Helios' buttcheek, he wanted to protest, to tell him he needed more—now. But before he could speak, he felt Davis enter him. Finally.
Davis gently slipped a hand beneath his thigh, lifting his leg to gain better access. His other hand slid along Helios' inner thigh, caressing the sensitive skin with practiced, exploring tenderness. Helios shivered under the touch.
Instinctively, Helios placed a hand over his scar, as if to remind his body to be careful. Davis member was thicker than his fingers, and even though they had shared many nights together, it felt like the first time all over again. He felt wonderfully full—the sensation of Davis inside him was overwhelming.
He held his breath as Davis pushed deeper, inch by inch, until he was fully buried inside him.
"Breathe," Davis whispered at his ear, his voice a low blend of restraint and burning desire.
Helios obeyed. He took a deep breath—and with it came a wave of relaxation. The initial pressure shifted into a sensation of completeness. His muscles eased, his body welcomed Davis in.
Davis didn't move. Not yet. He waited. Gave him time.
Only when Helios turned his head and kissed him—needy and insistent—did Davis begin to move. Slow, fluid, deep. Helios moaned into his mouth, lifting his leg higher to feel every inch of him.
And then the real rhythm began—a dance of heat, movement, and craving, where every kiss, every moan, every motion mattered.
Davis' thrusts grew gradually quicker, until they found a rhythm that felt deep, intense, yet gentle—just enough not to hurt. The pressure on his scar was there, like a silent presence at the edge of his awareness, but it wasn't pain. And even if it had been—Helios couldn't have stopped. It felt too good. Too right.
Davis kept driving into him, his hips hitting Helios with a strength that made him tremble. Helios thought that alone might be enough to push him over the edge again—until Davis shifted the angle slightly. One precise, controlled thrust struck his sweet spot.
That exquisitely sensitive cluster of nerves—and Helios cried out, the jolt of pleasure shooting through him like liquid fire in his veins.
His body tensed again, abs twitching in erratic rhythm, while his lower stomach pulled tight with heat and tingling tension. Davis' breath came in ragged bursts, hot against the curve of Helios' neck—another sensation, another layer, nearly too much to bear.
Davis held him steady. His arms wrapped around Helios like an anchor, guiding him through each new wave of pleasure. That spot inside him, the one Davis found so effortlessly, was growing numb from the intensity—but still, every nerve screamed for more.
The spot Davis kept hitting so effortlessly was nearly numb from the intense stimulation—and yet, Helios' body begged for more.
His orgasm built with relentless force. The contractions in his abdomen were painful, tears welled in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, but it felt too good. It was too much—too good—too intense.
And then he came again, completely overwhelmed, overtaken by a climax that swallowed him whole. His legs trembled, his hands clutched the sheets—but before he could cry out, Davis' lips pressed against his. The kiss was deep and demanding, swallowing his sounds, grounding him in the moment without dulling the ecstasy. Helios moaned into the kiss, his voice hushed, the pleasure vibrating through every fiber of his body.
His entrance pulsed in hard waves, gripping Davis' cock in a rhythm that quickly pushed Davis to the edge. With a deep, guttural groan, Davis came too—buried deep inside Helios, releasing in hot, intense bursts that felt as freeing as they were overwhelming.
And even then, Davis didn't stop. He kept moving—slowly, lovingly—until the trembling in both their bodies began to fade and they finally collapsed side by side, sweaty, breathless, wrapped around each other. Their skin stuck together, and they were a tangled, living knot of heat, closeness, and tenderness.
It was exactly what Helios had needed.
Exactly this.
Usually, sex was something that came more from Davis—rarely did Helios feel in the right headspace to initiate it himself. His mind was always obsessive—whether it was during work, in bed, or with anything that truly captured his interest. Once he locked into a focus, it was hard for him to let go.
When it came to physical needs, he usually acted in the moment. Everything else in his life followed a more or less structured rhythm.
His thoughts were just beginning to clear again. In the quiet, he suddenly became aware of Davis' hand—gently cupping his softening member, clearly to prevent a mess. Helios smirked. Smart man. Thomas would've had a look on his face if he had to change the sheets the next morning.
Davis leaned in, his mouth close to Helios' ear. "I love you," he whispered—barely audible, but with a depth that cut straight through Helios' soul.
Then he wrapped his arm around him, pulling him even closer, as if that were somehow still possible.
Helios smiled. He turned his head and kissed him—slow, soft, full of emotion. "I love you too," he whispered against Davis' lips.
The kiss was languid, tender—a gentle close to something intense. Their breathing was still heavy, but beginning to slow. The heat between them gave way to a comforting warmth, like a blanket settling over their bodies.
His scar felt tight and ached faintly.
Another round wouldn't happen today. Unfortunately. But that was okay.
They lay like that for a long while, tangled together, slowly catching their breath.
When Helios finally felt fully grounded in his body again, he turned his head and looked at Davis. His gray eyes sparkled with contentment, soft, a small smile playing at his lips.
"How about… we go take a shower?" Helios asked quietly. "And then lie down again for a bit?"
Davis grinned and ran a hand gently down his back. "I can't think of anything better."