What We’ve Built
A lot had changed in a short period of time.
A few months into our relationship, we’d said “I love you,” and not long after that, Amare gave up his condo on the river and moved in. Officially because my house made more sense, with the private yard, the pool, and a basement walkout that was practically begging to become a home gym one day. Unofficially because, somewhere along the way, it had started feeling like his place too.
A few months after we became a couple, I defended my PhD in Economics and was delighted to accept an assistant professor position.
Life felt pretty amazing.
The backyard smelled faintly of cut grass. I pushed the mower in a slow line along the back fence, more out of habit than necessity. The yard didn’t really need it yet, but after a morning spent sitting at my desk, it felt good to be outside before heading to the gym.
The house had belonged to my grandmother. She’d left it to me a few years earlier, and living here meant a lot to me. Every part of the place carried memories of weekends spent here as a kid. Sleepovers in the spare room, now my office. Summers in the pool. Family dinners stretching late onto the patio. The yard had always been her pride, and I tried to keep it that way.
I rolled the mower toward the shed when the back door opened behind me.
Amare stepped out onto the patio.
He’d already changed into gym shorts and a loose tank that hung low across his chest. The afternoon sun caught the broad line of his shoulders as he stretched his arms once over his head, loosening up.
“Getting a head start on the workout?” he asked.
“Warm-up,” I said, wiping my hands on my shorts.
He walked across the patio, watched me putting the mower away. There was that quiet confidence about him I still hadn’t gotten used to. Even now, it could pull my attention off whatever I was doing.
“You ready?” he said.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
We showered, grabbed a quick coffee downtown, and ended up at the gym a little later than usual. It was busy the way it always was mid-afternoon, students drifting in between classes, a few regulars already deep into their routines.
Amare peeled off toward the free weights while I headed upstairs to the cardio section. I wasn’t much of a lifter. I did enough to keep from embarrassing myself, but the machines were more my speed. Forty minutes on the treadmill, some light work on the weight machines, a stretch, and I was done.
As I was finishing up, I checked my phone. No messages from Amare.
That meant he was still downstairs.
The free weights area had its own room off the main floor. People jokingly called it The Dungeon, and the name wasn’t entirely wrong. The walls were rough concrete painted dark grey, the air thick with the constant clang of heavy plates and deep bass from the speakers overhead. The guys who trained in that room took lifting seriously. Amare fit in there.
I didn’t.
Still, I grabbed my water bottle and headed down the stairs.
The door to the room stood half open. As soon as I stepped inside, it felt different. Low music vibrating through the walls. A couple of guys straining through heavy sets while spotters hovered close.
I scanned the room automatically.
A few big lifters worked through their routines, shoulders pumped, arms thick with veins. None of them held my attention for long. No one in the room compared to the man I was looking for.
I stepped farther inside, looking toward the squat racks along the back wall.
“Hey.”
The voice came from my right. “You lost, little man?”
I turned.
The guy standing there was solid, the kind of build you got from spending serious time under a barbell. Not enormous, but thick enough that he clearly belonged in the room. He looked me up and down once.
“Just looking for someone,” I said.
He smirked. “Yeah?”
His eyes flicked briefly around the room. “This isn’t the cardio section.”
“I know.”
“Then maybe you wandered into the wrong place.”
“I’m meeting someone,” still looking for my man.
He leaned slightly closer. “Sure you are.”
Then he jerked his head toward the racks behind me. “Looks more like you came in here to check out the show.”
The implication sat there between us. Just dismissive enough to bite.
I felt the tension creep into my shoulders. “I’m not looking for trouble,” I said.
He took another step forward, close enough now that I could smell the chalk and sweat on him.
“In that case,” he said quietly, “you should probably move along.”
I opened my mouth to answer, then a hand settled on my shoulder, solid and reassuring.
Amare stepped in behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat of him at my back. I watched the shift happen in real time as the guy’s eyes moved past me and slowly climbed upward, chest, shoulders, face. The knot that had been tightening in my stomach finally relaxed.
“Is there a problem?” Amare asked calmly, the faintest edge of amusement in his voice.
I didn’t turn around.
My tormentor took a small step back.
“Uh… nah,” he said quickly. “I was just—”
Amare’s hand remained lightly against my chest. “Garrett’s with me,” he said.
No raised voice. Just a statement.
The guy swallowed. “Oh.”
He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Shit, didn’t realize. My bad, man.”
Amare didn’t move. “You got anything more to say?” he asked evenly. “Or are you leaving.”
The guy nodded quickly. “Sorry, dude,” he said to me. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”
Another quick glance at Amare, then he backed away, turning toward the front of the gym. A moment later I saw him pass through reception and head out the front door.
The room returned to its normal rhythm almost immediately.
Amare’s hand lifted from my chest.
I turned around.
He looked completely unbothered. “You ready to head out?”
“Yeah,” I said with a smile.
We walked out together, past the cardio floor and into the locker room.
A few minutes later we were showered and headed back out through reception and into the parking lot.
Amare glanced over once as he unlocked the car. “You okay?”
I slid into the passenger seat as he got in, I shook my head slightly.
“That guy,” I said.
“What about him?”
“Did you see how fast he backed down?”
Amare started the engine, glancing over at me with the faintest hint of a smile.
“He thought he could push you around. Then he realized who you came in with.”
I looked over at him, at the relaxed way he rested one hand on the steering wheel like the whole thing hadn’t even registered as an event.
I smiled slowly. “You owned him,” I said. “It was hot.”
Amare glanced over at me as he pulled the car out of the parking lot, like he was trying to decide whether I meant that the way it sounded.
I held his gaze for a second, then reached down and unclicked my seatbelt.
He raised an eyebrow.
I turned slightly toward him, my hand sliding over his thigh before drifting higher.
A slow smile spread across his face as he eased the car into traffic.
A moment later I was leaning across the center console, and the drive home became a serious test of his ability to keep his focus on the road as I took him deep in my mouth and slowly worked him until he came.
Afterward, I settled back into my seat, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as I glanced over at him, a quiet satisfaction settling in.
“Not a bad send-off, huh?” I asked with a smirk.
Amare didn’t look away from the road, but a grin immediately spread across his face. His hand slid over, resting on my thigh, his fingers tightening in a way that made my breath catch all over again.
He was leaving for the west coast in the morning.
~~~~~~
Nine days wasn’t long enough to justify how much I’d felt his absence. That’s what I kept telling myself. But the quiet in the house had stretched differently without him, every routine just slightly off, every moment edged with the awareness that he wasn’t there. I’d stopped trying to measure it somewhere around day three.
The sound of his key in the door settled something in me right away. Since I’d watched him get in the taxi, I’d been picturing this exact moment, imagining the way he’d look walking back into the house. Now it was finally happening.
The door swung open and there he was, a slow, easy grin already spreading across his face. My own smile hit just as hard, stretching so wide it almost ached.
Amare stepped inside with his travel bag slung over one shoulder, wearing a fitted short-sleeve button-up in a tropical print that perfectly complemented his chocolate skin, the top two buttons undone. His shoulders filled the doorway the same way they always did.
Our eyes locked. He dropped his bag beside the door.
The grin on his face widened like he already knew exactly what I was about to do.
“Amare!” I crossed the room in three long steps and launched myself at him.
He caught me easily, arms wrapping around my waist as I jumped up into him, my legs hooking around his hips. He easily absorbed the impact and laughed, that deep sound vibrating through his chest as I grabbed his face and kissed him.
God, I’d missed his mouth.
The kiss was messy and hungry right away. My hands slid up his neck and around his shoulders, gripping his thick delts as I pulled myself closer, my body pressing into his.
“Missed you too,” he murmured against my mouth, voice warm and amused.
I kissed him again before he could say anything else, slower this time, letting myself feel him. The solid heat of his chest. The strength in the arms holding me up like I weighed nothing.
He carried me a few steps into the living room before I finally slid down his body, my feet hitting the floor but my hands staying on him.
I stepped back just enough to look at him.
“You look good,” I said quietly.
His mouth curved.
I couldn’t manage to stop touching him. My palms slid up his shirt, over the firm muscle beneath the fabric, then down again as if reacquainting myself with the shape of him.
“So… how was it?” I asked.
His eyes softened slightly at the question.
“It was good,” he said, smiling as he held me.
“Good how?” I asked.
“The meetings went better than I expected.”
He rested his hands loosely on my shoulders while he spoke, his thumbs brushing slowly along the sides of my neck. His voice stayed calm and steady.
“I met with a few different brands while I was out there and did a couple photo shoots. They liked what they saw. We talked about ways of raising my profile — some possible new campaigns, maybe even a clothing deal if it all comes together.”
I was already unbuttoning his shirt as he spoke, touching the warm skin of his chest. I pressed my fingers into the groove between his pecs, running my fingers along the striated muscle.
“I’m so proud of you,” I said quietly.
For a moment I just stared at him.
I still needed to catch up to the reality of him standing in front of me again.
My hands went right back to him, through the open shirt, palms sliding over his pecs, feeling the familiar density there.
“You’ve gotten bigger,” I murmured.
He let out a quiet chuckle.
“I’m serious,” I added, letting my hand drift down his chest, my finger tracing lightly along the ridges of his abs.
“I’ve not been gone that long, Garrett,” he said, amused.
I grinned. “Maybe I just missed you. FaceTime isn’t the same as this.”
His hands slid to the back of my neck, fingers settling there as he watched me explore him. My hands moved to his belt, already working the buckle loose.
He laughed softly. “You want to hear about the rest of the trip or not?”
“I’m listening,” I said, though I was already opening his jeans.
“Are you?” he teased.
“Of course.” I guided him down the hall as I worked the zipper open. “You met with brands. Did a couple shoots. Everyone loves you. I’m keeping up.”
He huffed a quiet laugh as we reached the bedroom.
I pushed his jeans down and they dropped to the floor.
I stepped back—and the sight of him made the breath leave my chest.
“Oh God.”
Amare tipped my chin up with two fingers.
“Shop talk’s done?” he asked, amused.
Heat rushed to my face. I ducked my head, suddenly aware of how obvious I must have looked.
“Sorry,” I muttered, a little embarrassed.
I stepped closer again, pressing into him, my hands sliding around his back.
“Done for now,” I said quietly, meeting his eyes again, “I need you to fuck me till I come.”
The words hung between us for half a second. He grinned at me.
“Take it off,” I said, tugging at his shirt.
He didn’t move right away.
Instead he watched me. A slow, assessing look that moved from my mouth to my eyes and back again, like he was deciding how quickly he was going to give me what I wanted. His thumbs brushed lightly against my hip bones, just enough to remind me how much I wanted him.
“Nine days,” he said quietly.
One corner of his mouth lifted.
Then he rolled his shoulders slowly and for a second the fabric clung there, stretched across solid muscle, outlining him before he pulled it free. The motion flexed his shoulders and traps in one clean sweep, the shirt giving way to the dense shape of his body, veins tracking up his arms, over his shoulders, and across his chest.
The tight grid of his abs came into view, the sharp cut of his obliques framing them. My eyes moved upward, impatient, taking in the clear view of his chest — thick, defined, rising steadily with his breath.
I stepped in and kissed him again.
He met me in the moment. but the pace he set was different from mine. I went in hungry, trying to pull him into the craving I’d been carrying all day.
He slowed it.
His mouth moved with deliberate patience, like he was reacquainting himself with me. His hands moved over my back in steady passes, broad palms, holding me where he wanted me.
I tried to deepen the kiss, pressing closer.
He drew the moment out, his mouth drifting from mine to my jaw, then to my neck, lingering there. His hands slid beneath my shirt, warm and calloused against my ribs before tracing upward again. He kept watching my face, like he already knew exactly what this was doing to me.
“Missed this?” he murmured against my skin.
“You have no idea.”
His mouth paused against my neck for a moment. I felt the shift in him more than I saw it.
Then the corner of his mouth lifted—not quite a smile.
He kissed me again, deeper now.
I felt the difference in how he was moving.
When he stepped back, I followed without thinking. He guided me toward the bed one slow step at a time, never breaking eye contact.
Clothes came off along the way.
His hands moved deliberately, sliding fabric up my torso inch by inch until cool air hit bare skin and I sucked in a breath.
Then his briefs followed, pushed down just as slowly.
By the time I hit the mattress my breathing was already uneven.
Amare lowered himself over me, forearms braced, his body hovering above mine.
I held his gaze.
My hand moved over his shoulder, sliding down his arm, feeling the tension in the muscle there as I tried to pull him closer. He didn’t resist. He just didn’t give in.
That was when it clicked.
He wasn’t holding back by accident. He was letting the tension build while he watched what it was doing to me.
“You’re dragging this out,” I said, my voice already uneven.
His eyes darkened slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in quiet confirmation. “Possibly.”
Then he lowered his mouth to my chest.
His lips pressed there first before his tongue moved slowly upward, tracing along my collarbone and then drifting down my side. The contrast of warm mouth and open air made my shoulders tense in anticipation. He lingered there.
His tongue circled one nipple slowly, drawing it tight before he moved higher again, teeth grazing lightly at the base of my throat. It was barely more than a flash of contact, but I reacted instantly.
My hand slid up instinctively, gripping the thick muscle at the base of his neck. My fingers dug into the heavy rise of his trap and felt the muscle tense under my hand.
His mouth moved along my neck in slow passes, tongue flattening against the skin beneath my jaw before pulling away and returning again, each pass a little firmer than the last.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
He could feel it in the way my body kept trying to rise into him, the way my grip tightened every time he slowed down again.
And he was enjoying it.
My hips pushed upward, needing more than he was giving. “Amare,” I exhaled, my voice giving me away completely.
He exhaled softly against my throat, the vibration low and controlled, sending a deeper shudder through me. His hands slid lower then, gripping my hips and holding me steady as I tried to rise into him.
His mouth moved down my torso again — over my chest, following the tight line of my stomach — making my balls churn.
By the time he reached the inside of my hip, the anticipation in me had tightened into something almost painful.
He looked up at me again. Past my throbbing cock.
That eye contact was worse than anything else.
“You’re impatient,” he said with a cocky grin.
“Less talking,” I urged lustfully. “More tongue!”
I shouldn’t have given him that much. He liked knowing he could get to me. But it had been too long since being with him to play it cool. I needed this. Now.
The corner of his mouth twitched, and then his mouth closed around me, slow and warm and wet enough to make my hips jerk before I could stop myself.
For a split second, I didn’t understand what he’d done. He’d teased me before. But this — this was new. He didn’t even glance up to gauge my reaction as he took me all the way, his nose pressing against me.
The first slow pull of his mouth made my hips lift, pushing up into him for more than he was giving. That’s when his hands settled firmly against me, holding me down against the mattress while his tongue moved in powerful, measured strokes that felt impossibly controlled, like he was proving something.
The realization hit me through the pulse pounding in my body — he’d chosen this. Chosen to take it slow. Chosen to make this matter.
“Amare—” My voice broke almost immediately.
He hummed low against me, and the vibration make me lurch in his mouth. His rhythm was steady, his mouth working with the same intense, devastating pace, bringing me to the edge and refusing to let me go.
He glanced up at me and held it, and everything in me tightened at once. My hands clenched instinctively, fingers digging into his shoulders, and I felt him brace more firmly at my hip as my body started to tense.
“I’m close,” I managed, already losing the thread of my voice.
He didn’t ease off.
His lips tightened around me just enough to hold the rhythm steady as the pressure tipped from tight to unbearable, and I felt him start to pull me under.
My body locked, the first wave hitting hard enough to knock the breath out of me. It didn’t end there. I kept coming, tightening, shooting, spilling again, forcing my head back as I lost any rhythm I thought I had. I couldn’t control it. Couldn’t slow it down.
He stayed on me, mouth steady, hand firm at my hip, holding me in place while I shuddered helplessly. He didn’t ease up until my orgasm had passed, leaving me shattered and spent under him.
When he finally lifted his head, slow and sure, his mouth lingering, my entire body felt electric.
Slowly, he climbed back over me, kissing me deeply, and I could taste myself. The intimacy of it made something tighten low in my chest.
“You planned that,” I said against his lips.
“You’re welcome,” he said, brushing his mouth against mine.
I was still unsteady, my breath dragging slowly back into place, my body heavy and sensitive in a way that made everything feel heightened. Amare stayed close for a moment, his weight warm over me while my breathing settled. My chest rose and fell beneath him, and when I shifted I felt him again, hard against my thigh. The lingering tremor in my body hadn’t quite faded, and the quiet reminder of him there made my pulse jump all over again.
He shifted, positioning himself between my legs, then lifted them carefully onto his shoulders, adjusting his grip like he was still taking his time with me. He locked eyes with me as he settled against me, and then pressed forward, slow and sure, the stretch building steadily.
I exhaled hard as he pushed in.
He paused there, giving me a second to breathe through it, his forehead brushing mine, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his skin.
“You good?” he murmured, quieter now.
I nodded once, my breath turning rough again. “Yeah. Don’t stop.”
He began to move, steady and measured at first, the stretch intense. Each slow advance unfolded through me, the full length of him impossible to miss as his thrusts deepened rather than quickened,his hips rolling powerfully, pulling me back into heavy, uneven breaths.
Amare moved with the devastating precision of a ninja. Every thrust sent a sharp wave of pleasure through me, my cock already standing at attention. He watched the way my body responded, the way I shifted beneath him, and the look in his eyes deepened as he watched the effect he was having on me.
I pulled him down into a kiss, needing the closeness. Our mouths moved together, teeth grazing, tongues sliding slow and wet as the rhythm intensified.
His control slipped just slightly.
The pace sharpened.
His hand gripped my thigh, lifting it higher, adjusting the angle enough to make every nerve in my body flare at once. The sensation lit straight through me, intense and blinding.
“Amare—” I was grinding into his abs and it was electric.
He grinned at how badly I need it. “Not yet… Hold on”
The words were steady even as his breathing grew heavier.
He bent down to kiss me again, more urgently this time, deeper. His mouth softened against mine even as his thrusts remained strong. His hands reached for mine, lacing our fingers together and pressing them into the mattress beside my head. His forehead touched mine again, breath warm against my lips.
“Come with me,” he murmured.
I nodded, already there, already tipping.
I felt his muscles tighten, felt the tension coil through him as it mirrored my own. We held each other’s gaze for half a second longer before it broke — his mouth finding mine just as we both went over.
The release hit in tandem, explosive and overwhelming — a shared wave that pulled us under at the same time. He pressed fully against me through it, staying deep, breathing hard into my mouth as the last tremor passed between us.
He stayed right there, his weight settled over me, lingering — savoring the feeling of still being inside me. His breath slowed gradually. His mouth brushed mine once more before he pulled out and slowly rolled onto his side.
Silence settled around us, thick and warm.
I watched him for a moment before turning onto my side to face him.
His chest rose and fell steadily, a light sheen of sweat catching the soft light from the window. I reached out and stroked the curve of his pec with my fingertips, feeling the dampness there, the heat still radiating beneath my palm. The muscle was relaxed now, but solid. I traced the line slowly, following the shelf that formed just below his collarbone, letting my hand linger there.
Then I looked up at him and took a deep breath.
“The time we’ve been apart,” I said softly, watching the way he looked at me, “and the last hour…” I let myself smile. “Just reminded me how much I love you.”
He grinned, one eyebrow lifting slightly.
“Like, stupid amounts,” I added, smiling. “It’s a little ridiculous at this point.”
That got a deep chuckle out of him. Then his hands were on me, guiding me as he rolled us until I was on top of him, my weight resting against his chest.
“Yeah…” he said softly, one hand sliding along my back. “I love you too.”
I let myself settle there, stretched out over him, my head resting against his chest as I listened to the steady rhythm beneath my ear. For a moment neither of us spoke.
I felt lucky. For this, for him, and for the life that suddenly felt very much ours.
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