He could feel Chen trembling, feel the effort it took for him to hold himself back.
and something in Skyy's chest cracked open at the realization that Chen was fighting this—for him. Protecting him, even from himself.
Then Chen pulled back.
He rolled away with a harsh, shuddering breath, turning his back to Skyy and facing the grimy wall. His shoulders heaved with silent, ragged breaths, his hand coming up to press against the concrete as if he needed something solid to anchor himself.
Skyy lay there, staring up at the water-stained ceiling, his own chest heaving.
His body felt hot and confused, aching with a need he didn't fully understand.
The place where Chen had been hovering felt cold now, empty, and Skyy pressed his thighs together against the strange, insistent throb between them.
'Did... did I want that?'
The question circled in his mind, relentless and terrifying. 'Do I want to be with Chen?'
