I stepped out of the bathroom with steam still clinging to my skin, towel knotted low around my hips. My hair was damp and messy, droplets sliding down my neck and chest. The apartment felt quieter now, the city hum muffled beyond the windows. Dylan had stepped out to his apartment next door to change.
A few seconds later, he walked back in.
He had changed. Black hoodie zipped halfway up, sleeves pushed to his elbows, dark blue jeans that hugged his thighs just right. Hair pushed back, still a little wet from his own shower, smelling faintly of cedar and that sharp gym soap he always used. He stopped in the doorway, eyes dragging over me slow and deliberate, like he was deciding where to start.
“Damn,” he said, voice low. “You clean up nice, Spaghetti Noodle.”
Heat crawled up my throat. I laughed, short and nervous. “It’s just a towel.”
“Yeah. Exactly” He crossed the room in three steps, thumbs brushing the bare skin above the towel where my hips dipped. “And you look like a fucking problem in it.”
He leaned in, nose grazing the side of my neck, inhaling deep. “Smell good too. Could eat you right here.”
My pulse jumped. “We’re supposed to be going out.”
Dylan smirked against my skin. “I like seeing you like this first.” His mouth brushed mine, quick and possessive, just enough to make my knees soften. Then he pulled back, eyes dark and amused. “Get dressed before I change my mind.”
I nodded, legs unsteady, and moved to the bedroom. I pulled on dark jeans that sat low on my hips, a soft charcoal sweater that clung a little, and a light jacket. When I came back out Dylan was leaning against the counter, scrolling his phone, looking every bit the guy who knew exactly what he was doing to me.
He glanced up, gave one slow nod. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
We left together. The hallway light buzzed overhead as we took the stairs down. Outside the evening air was cool, carrying the faint scent of rain that hadn’t fallen yet. Dylan walked close, his hand settling on my waist, thumb brushing the hem of my sweater every few steps. It wasn’t overt, but it felt like a claim. Every time our shoulders touched I felt the heat of him through the layers.
The restaurant was small, tucked on a narrow street a few blocks from his new place. Warm light spilled from the windows, candle flames flickering behind glass. Inside it smelled like garlic, red wine, and fresh bread. The host led us to a corner booth, half-hidden by a low partition. We slid in across from each other, knees brushing under the table.
Dylan ordered wine without asking—deep red, bold. When the waiter left he leaned forward, elbows on the table, watching me like I was the only thing in the room.
“So,” he said. “Tell me about your days.”
I took a sip of wine. It was good, warming my chest. “Patisserie’s quiet most mornings. Madame Claire yells at the delivery guy in French, then smiles at me like nothing happened. I pour coffee, stack croissants, sketch on napkins when it’s slow.”
He nodded, small smile tugging his mouth. “Saw one of your sketches in a LifeInParis story. The steam off the espresso cup. Looked real.”
“You watch them?”
“Every one.” He shrugged, casual, but his eyes didn’t leave mine. “Don’t tell Jake I’m lurking. He’ll never let me live it down.”
I laughed. “He already sends me screenshots of my own posts like I haven’t seen them.”
Dylan grinned. “That’s Jake. Always gotta be the hype man.”
The food came fast—steak frites for him, pasta with brown butter and sage for me. We ate slowly, talking about nothing heavy. He told me about the protein brand shoots: long hours under bright lights, influencers who talked too much, how Paris felt different when he wasn’t just crashing for a weekend. I told him about the old man who came in every day for the same black coffee, how he always left exact change and a nod like we shared a secret.
Halfway through the meal his foot nudged mine under the table. I froze. He did it again, deliberate, the toe of his sneaker sliding along my calf.
“You’re distracting me,” I said quietly.
“Good.” His voice dropped. “Been hard since you walked out in that towel. Thinking about getting you back to my place. Legs wide. Saying my name while I take you apart.”
My fork paused. Heat pooled low in my stomach. “We’re in public.”
“Exactly.” His knee pressed firmer against mine. “Makes it better.”
I swallowed, took another sip of wine to steady myself. He watched every movement—my throat working, the way my lips touched the glass. His hand slid under the table, resting high on my thigh, thumb stroking slow circles through denim. Not high enough to be obvious, but high enough that I had to shift in my seat to adjust my boner.
“You’re evil,” I muttered.
He smirked. “You like evil.”
The rest of dinner blurred. We talked less, touched more. His fingers never left my leg. Mine found his knee, squeezing once. By the time the check came I was half-hard under the table, pulse loud in my ears.
Dylan paid, hand firm on my lower back as we stepped outside. The street was quieter now, lamps casting long shadows. We walked slow, his arm sliding around my shoulders, pulling me close. I could feel the heat rolling off him, the steady rhythm of his breathing.
Back at his old apartment—the smaller one he’d been using for the last few months… the one right across from mine—the door clicked shut behind us. He didn’t bother with lights. Moonlight came through the tall windows, silvering the edges of the couch, the low coffee table, the open bedroom door.
He turned to me, backing me against the wall just inside the entry. Hands on my hips, mouth hovering over mine.
“Been thinking about this all through dinner,” he said. “You under me. Begging.”
I exhaled shaky. “Then do it.”
He kissed me deep, slow, filthy. Tongue sliding against mine, one hand cupping my jaw to tilt my head exactly how he wanted. The other slid under my sweater, palm flat against my stomach, fingers spreading wide. I arched into the touch.
When he pulled back his eyes were dark, pupils blown. “Take these off.”
I tugged the sweater over my head, tossed it. Jeans next—button, zipper, shoved down. He watched every second, arms crossed, biceps flexing under the hoodie sleeves.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “So fucking pretty.”
He stepped closer, hands roaming my bare chest, thumbs brushing my nipples until I hissed. Then he dropped to one knee, yanking my underwear down in one rough pull. I stepped out, naked now, cock hard and leaking against my stomach.
Dylan stayed on his knees a moment longer, looking up at me. “Ahh.. The real dessert.”
I moved fast, heart hammering. He followed, shedding his hoodie and jeans as he went. When he reached the bedroom he was naked too; thick, hard, veins standing out along his eight inch girthy cock. He crawled over me, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand.
“Been way too horny tonight,” he said, voice rough. “Gonna make it last.”
He kissed down my throat, teeth grazing my collarbone, then lower….chest, stomach, hips. I arched, desperate. He spread my thighs wide, settling between them.
But before he could go further he pulled back, sitting on his heels, looking down at me.
“By the way,” he said, casual, like we weren’t both breathing hard. “I’m vacating this place tomorrow. Shifting to the new one a few streets over. Bigger. Better view.”
I blinked up at him, brain hazy. “Tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” He smirked, hand sliding down to wrap around my cock, stroking once slow. “So might as well make a mess in this apartment tonight. Ruin the sheets. Leave it smelling like us.”
My laugh came out breathless. “You’re disgusting.”
“Disgustingly good at fucking you.” He leaned down, mouth brushing my ear. “Gonna fill you up so deep you feel me for days. Then do it again in the new place. Break that bed too.”
I groaned, hips jerking into his hand. “Then stop talking and do it.
Dylan laughed low, kissed me once more, hard, claiming, then shifted, lining himself up.
I felt the blunt head press against me, thick and hot, coated from the lube he had grabbed from the nightstand in one quick motion. Dylan paused along my hole, just enough to make me whine, hips twitching up toward him without permission.
“Easy,” he murmured, voice rough against my ear. “You know how this goes.”
He pushed in slow, one long, steady slide that stretched me wide. Eight inches of thick girth, veined and heavy, the kind that always made the first inch burn in the best way. My breath caught, fingers digging into his shoulders. He didn’t stop, didn’t rush, just kept sinking deeper until his hips pressed flush against me and I felt every inch seated inside, filling me so completely my thighs trembled.
“Fuck,” I gasped.
Dylan groaned, low and guttural, forehead dropping to mine. “Still so tight. Every goddamn time.”
He stayed still for a long moment, letting me adjust, letting me feel him throb deep inside. His hands slid under my thighs, lifting them higher, spreading me wider. The new angle made him sink even deeper, pressing against that spot that turned my spine to liquid.
“Tell me how it feels,” he said, voice gravel.
“Full,” I managed. “So fucking full.”
He smirked, rolled his hips once, slow, deliberate. The drag of him pulling out a few inches then sliding back in made me arch, a broken sound slipping out.
“That’s it,” he said. “Let me hear you.”
He started moving then, long strokes at first, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back deep. Each time he bottomed out he ground against me, hips circling, making sure I felt every thick inch. My cock leaked against my stomach, untouched, smearing precome between us.
Dylan’s mouth found my throat, teeth scraping lightly. “Been thinking about this entire dinner. You taking me like this. Legs shaking. Begging without even saying the words.”
I tried to laugh but it came out as a moan when he snapped his hips harder. “You talk too much.”
“Yeah?” He pulled out slow, torturously slow, until only the head remained inside. “Then make me stop.”
I clenched my hole around his cock on instinct. He hissed, eyes flashing.
“Fuck, Troy.”
He slammed back in, hard enough that the headboard thudded once against the wall. I cried out, nails raking down his back. He didn’t give me time to recover, setting a rhythm that was deep and punishing. Every thrust punched the air out of me, his thick cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside until my vision blurred.
He shifted, hooking one of my legs over his shoulder. The new angle let him go even deeper, hitting that spot with brutal precision. I sobbed his name, head tipping back.
“Dylan…”
“There,” he growled. “Right fucking there.”
He pounded into me, relentless, sweat slicking his muscular chest, abs flexing with every roll of his hips. His biceps bulged as he held my thigh high, keeping me open for him. I could feel the veins on his cock pulsing inside me, the stretch, the heat, the way he filled me so completely I couldn’t think past the next thrust.
“God, look at you,” he said, voice wrecked. “Taking every inch. So fucking good for me.”
I reached for him, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him down. He kissed me messy and open-mouthed, tongue matching the rhythm of his hips. I moaned into his mouth, the sound swallowed by the kiss.
He broke away, breathing ragged. “Flip over.”
I barely had time to process before he pulled out, hands guiding me onto my stomach. I pushed my ass up instinctively. Dylan groaned behind me, palms spreading me wide.
“Fuck, look at this hole. Already red and puffy from me.”
He slid back in with one long thrust, bottoming out in a single stroke. I buried my face in the pillow, muffling the moans. He didn’t let me hide, one hand wrapping around my throat from behind, gentle but firm, tilting my head back so he could see my face.
“None of that,” he said. “I want to hear you…loud.”
He fucked me harder now, hips snapping, balls slapping against me with every thrust. The bed creaked under us, sheets twisting around my fists. His other hand gripped my hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.
“Feel that?” he rasped. “Every thick inch stretching you open..”
I whimpered, pushing back to meet him. “Dylan… please…”
“Please what?” He slowed suddenly, grinding deep, circling his hips so the head of his cock pressed right against that spot without mercy.
I shook. “Don’t stop. Don’t… don’t stop.”
He laughed low, dark. “Wasn’t planning to.”
He picked up speed again, pounding into me with a rhythm that made my whole body jolt. Sweat dripped from his chest onto my back. His hand slid from my throat to my hair, tugging my head back so he could kiss the side of my neck, teeth grazing.
“You’re shaking,” he muttered. “So close already.”
I nodded frantically. “Yeah… fuck… yeah…”
He reached under me, wrapping his fist around my cock. One stroke, two, matching the brutal pace of his hips. I sobbed, overwhelmed, pleasure spiking sharp and bright.
“Come for me,” he ordered. “Let me feel you clench around every inch.”
That did it. My vision whited out, body locking up as I came hard, spilling over his fist, pulsing around him. Dylan groaned, thrusts turning erratic, chasing his own release.
“Fuck… Troy…”
He slammed in one last time, burying himself to the hilt. I felt him throb, thick pulses as he emptied inside me, hot and deep. He kept grinding through it, milking every drop, hips stuttering until he finally stilled, breathing hard against my shoulder.
We stayed like that for long seconds, bodies locked together, covered in sweat and cum. He kissed the back of my neck, soft now, almost tender.
I let out a shaky breath, still floating somewhere between wrecked and blissed out. My voice came out hoarse. “So… you need help moving tomorrow?”
Dylan laughed against my skin, the sound low and rumbling through his chest into mine. “Spaghetti Noodle… I just need you on my bed afterwards. That’s it.”
I snorted, even though my body was still trembling from the aftershocks. “Don’t you ever get tired?”
He lifted his head just enough to look at me, one eyebrow raised. “Of fucking? Of fucking you?”
“Yeah.” I shifted under him, feeling the sticky warmth between my thighs, the dull delicious ache where he had stretched me wide. “Doesn’t your dick need rest or something?”
Dylan barked a real laugh this time, then brought his hand down in a sharp, playful spank on my ass. The sting made me gasp and clench around nothing. He grinned, wide and filthy. “Troy, Troy… this dick ain’t ever getting tired of entering your hole. Ever.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile. “You’re so full of it.”
“Full of come, maybe.” He flexed his hips once, just enough to remind me he was still half-hard, thick and heavy even after he had emptied everything he had. “You complaining?”
I hooked one leg over his hip, then the other, pulling him closer until our bodies slotted together again.
“So… what, you have a bigger place? Bigger bed?” I asked, voice still rough from moaning his name.
He huffed a laugh against my skin. “Bigger everything.” His voice turned teasing again. “More surfaces to fuck you on.”
I laughed weakly, still trembling underneath him. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah.” He kissed my shoulder once more, then slowly pulled out. I hissed at the emptiness, the wet slide of his come leaking out of me and onto the sheets. He rolled me onto my back with gentle hands, hovering over me now, eyes softer than usual in the low moonlight.
“Stay tonight,” he said.
I looked up at him…sweaty, flushed, hair a complete mess, that familiar smirk softened at the edges into something almost fond.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I’ll stay.”
He dropped down beside me, pulling me against his chest so my head tucked under his chin. One thick arm banded around my waist, the other sliding up to card through my hair. Our legs tangled naturally, skin on skin, sticky and warm and perfect.
For a while we just breathed. The city of Paris hummed faintly outside the window, but inside it was only us. His heartbeat thumped steady against my cheek. I traced lazy circles on his abs with one fingertip, following the deep cuts that disappeared under the sheet.
“You really okay with the move?” I asked quietly.
He hummed. “Yeah. This place was temporary anyway. New one’s got better light. More space. Actual kitchen instead of that sad little hot plate.”
I smiled into his chest. “You gonna cook for me?”
He snorted. “I’ll order takeout and fuck you on the counter. Close enough.”
“Romantic.”
“Very.” He tilted my chin up so I had to look at him. “You’ll like it. Big windows. View of the rooftops. Quiet street. No one banging on the walls when I make you scream.”
My face heated. “You’re never quiet either.”
“True.” He grinned, thumb brushing my lower lip. “But you like the sounds I make when I’m balls deep in you.”
I buried my face against his neck to hide the blush. “Shut up.”
He laughed again, softer this time, and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Never.”
His hand slid down my spine, slow and possessive, stopping at the small of my back. He rubbed circles there, like he was soothing me even though I was already boneless.
“Feels good,” I mumbled.
“Yeah?” His voice dropped lower. “You still leaking me?”
I shifted my hips experimentally. The slick warmth was still there, dripping slowly. “Yeah.”
“Good.” He sounded satisfied, almost proud. “Want you full of me all night. Want you to feel it every time you walk to work tomorrow..”
I groaned, half embarrassed, half turned on again despite how thoroughly he had already wrecked me. “You’re obsessed.”
“With this hole?” He slipped a finger down between my cheeks, gathering the mess and pushing it back inside me with one thick digit. I gasped, thighs clenching around his hand. “Yeah. Obsessed.”
He pumped once, slow, then pulled out and licked his finger clean right in front of me. My cock twitched against his thigh.
“Jesus, Dylan.”
He smirked. “Tastes like us.”
I shoved at his chest weakly. “You’re disgusting.”
“And you love it.” He rolled us so I was sprawled half on top of him, cheek pressed to his pec. “Get some sleep, noodle. You’re gonna need it.”
I settled against him, leg thrown over his hip, arm draped across his waist. His hand found mine, fingers lacing together on his stomach.
The rhythm was easy now. Breathing in sync. His thumb stroking over my knuckles. My leg tightening every time he shifted. Naked bodies pressed close, sticky and warm and completely comfortable.
I felt his heartbeat slow under my ear. His breathing evened out. But his arm never loosened around me.
I closed my eyes, letting the steady rise and fall of his chest lull me. The ache between my legs was a quiet reminder of everything he had just done to me. The come still leaking out of me was another.
Everything that usually felt loose inside me settled.
The noise faded.
The doubt faded.
All that remained was him.
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