Free Web NovelChapter 39: _Don’t Stop...
"Alright, are you comfortable like this?"
"Yes, Dad." Orion nodded as Ambrose tucked him into his bed. "You look so handsome in your tuxedo, by the way. Did I tell you that before you left?"
Ambrose arched a brow. "I think you did."
Orion’s voice lowered. "Did Devon tell you too?"
Heat flooded Ambrose’s cheeks as he faked a cough. "Orion, that’s none of your business, okay?"
He ruffled the rascal’s hair despite his resistant giggling.
"But daddy, I’m only asking," the little boy persisted. "Devon looks... sad. Is that why you guys came back early?"
Ambrose didn’t answer immediately, sitting beside the lad instead. He didn’t know whether to be moved emotionally or impressed by how sharp the boy was.
"It’s part of the reason, yes," Ambrose agreed with a slow nod. "But don’t worry. He’ll be fine eventually. He just needs to rest." Leaning close to the boy’s face, he added. "And so do you."
Orion giggled as Ambrose got off the bed.
"You’re not hungry, right?" The Guide questioned one last time when he got to the door.
Orion could barely shake his head as he yawned, his eyelids falling. "I’m not."
"Okay then. Sweet dreams, little guy."
"Good night, daddy."
As Ambrose shut the bedroom door behind him, he let out a short exhale. "Never in my past life did I imagine putting a kid to sleep every night."
Really, he never did.
Back when he was Benji Foster, his stance on children had always been clear once he became an adult. To him back then they were burdens he didn’t have the patience to handle.
That didn’t seem to be the case with Orion.
[The threat of existential annihilation sure does help, doesn’t it?] Aura butted into his mind in that annoying way she always does.
Ambrose ignored her, trailing his eyes to the TV. Devon was still standing in front of it. He held the remote, changing it back to the news report on Norfolk.
Seeing the stress lines on the Esper’s face, Ambrose huffed. "Devon."
No response.
Devon remained still, his eyes glued to the TV like he couldn’t afford to miss any detail. Like he could somehow change something from all the way here.
It didn’t take long for those suffocating emotions to come back in his chest. And then start flooding through the link, hitting Ambrose like they were his.
[WARNING: Target’s emotional state unstable.]
Seeing the system screen flashing in front of his face, Ambrose reacted quickly. He crossed the room in hasty strides, grabbing Devon’s shoulder and making him face him.
"Devon," his voice rose a bit, but still low to avoid waking Orion. "Hey. Watching that thing isn’t going to help in any way. You’re only hurting yourself."
The Esper gawked at Ambrose. At the worry in his silver eyes.
And somehow that broke him more. "If something really happened to him. If he dies... I’ll never forgive myself." He muttered, too afraid to imagine it.
Ambrose paused, uncertain of what to say at first.
Then it clicked.
He didn’t have to say anything.
So, his hand slid to Devon’s elbow, pulling him to one of the sofas. As they sat down, the Guide placed a hand on Devon’s chest.
"Feeling any better?" He asked before he could stop himself.
Devon inhaled once, leaning back against the sofa. "I think so," he mumbled, head angling to Ambrose again. "You’re the only thing keeping me stable right now. My grandfather has always said I... let emotions lead my powers."
He snorted. "To think I’ve been more emotional these days."
"Since the permanent link?" Ambrose was curious now, swallowing when a finger accidentally slipped past Devon’s suit.
He touched the bare chest underneath. The warmth. The slick sweat sticking to his skin like a second layer. Just when he was about to pull his hand away—
Devon’s fingers wrapped around his wrist like a vice. Not aggressively. Desperately. Keeping it right there on his chest. "Don’t stop..."
Those words came with a dangerous rasp. One that surged through Ambrose’s being, shaking his core until he found himself swallowing like a man starved of water all his life.
Ignoring it was harder now than ever. The link. The electric pull between them that’s been thrumming deeper with each passing day. Each prolonged stare.
Each accidental touch.
Which is why when Devon pleaded he kept his hand on his chest... he did just that.
Several seconds passed with no words exchanged between the two men. Suddenly the clothes felt like baggage weighing them down.
Devon noticed something through the haze of desire consuming his psyche.
Ambrose’s heart.
It beat so hard and fast that he could hear it.
So he queried quietly. "Are you scared of me?"
The question clearly took the Guide off guard. But he managed a slow shake of his head. "N–No."
He said that so confidently too. Yet the air was charged with words unsaid.
Internally, Ambrose was panicking. He could already feel pressure between his thighs. He tightened his legs together but as expected, that only worsened it.
"It’s... kinda hot in here, right?" He said nervously, trying and failing to look away from Devon’s piercing gaze. "S–Should I turn on the air conditioning? Or—"
All attempts to shift his attention to something else died with one simple action from Devon. One second he sat inches away from him.
The next he was upon him with a kiss, snuffing the rest of his words out of his throat and making his mind numb. Ambrose’s eyes stayed wide. His hand on Devon’s chest tightened, gripping the fabric of his inner shirt.
He wanted to resist. He wanted to tell Devon that this was a bad idea when he was hurting. But one want burned hotter than any other in his body right now.
And that was the want for the Esper kissing him like his lips contained honey.
He was so far gone that he didn’t know when Devon broke the kiss, shuddering like even he couldn’t believe what happened.
"If... if we continue I’m going to do something we can’t take back."
Words that should’ve given Ambrose pause. If every last inch of his restraint hadn’t shattered like a glass wall against bullets.
Ambrose pulled Devon’s collar, bringing him back to the warmth of his lips. A soft grunt left them as Devon climbed on top of him, hands on his cheeks.
Vulnerability had given room to desires neither of them could deny any longer.
And as clothes began dropping to the floor, Devon pressed his forehead against Ambrose’s, breathing hard.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered.
Ambrose didn’t.
