. This chapter includes a slow, emotional progression toward intimacy — emphasizing consent reading at your own risk 18+
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Chapter 26: The Way He Touched Me
It was raining softly.
The sky outside their new home had shifted into shades of silver and slate, clouds folding into each other while gentle droplets kissed the windows. Elián stood barefoot in the living room, a cup of tea in his hand, wrapped in an oversized sweater that nearly reached his knees.
Kairo entered quietly behind him. He no longer needed a cane to walk, though his steps were slow, steady, cautious. He was healing. Day by day.
"Couldn't sleep?" Elián asked without turning.
Kairo shook his head. "Not really. You?"
"I was waiting for you."
Kairo's lips curved faintly. "Even after everything… you still wait for me."
Elián looked over his shoulder. "I do. Every time."
The air between them thickened—soft, not tense. Intimate. The kind of quiet that made your heart beat louder. Kairo stepped closer until their arms were brushing. Elián didn't move away. He didn't flinch. He leaned in.
"I want to kiss you," Kairo whispered.
Elián turned his face, eyes searching his. "Why ask now?"
Kairo's throat worked as he swallowed. "Because this time, it matters. You matter."
A pause. Then:
"You have my permission."
Kairo stepped in slowly, brushing a strand of hair from Elián's cheek. His fingers trembled, not from pain this time, but from nerves. Guilt still lived in his bones, but Elián's presence softened it.
Their lips met gently.
Not urgent. Not hungry.
Just… soft. Healing. The kind of kiss that asks, "Can I be better?" and receives the answer "Yes."
Elián's breath hitched as Kairo's hand moved to cradle the back of his neck. He felt warm, safe… cherished. And when they broke the kiss, just barely, Elián kept his forehead against Kairo's.
"Again," he whispered.
Kairo kissed him again. Longer. Deeper.
His arms slowly wrapped around Elián's waist, pulling him closer, fitting their bodies together. Elián's hands clung to his shirt, trembling slightly.
"You don't have to be afraid of me anymore," Kairo murmured.
"I'm not," Elián said softly. "I'm afraid of how much I still want you."
That broke something open in Kairo. His hand moved up, caressing Elián's jaw.
"Can I touch you?" he asked. "Properly?"
Elián nodded, cheeks flushed. "Yes."
Kairo lifted Elián into his arms, steady and sure. It wasn't perfect—his muscles still ached, but he held him like he meant it. Elián buried his face in Kairo's neck, heart pounding.
He carried him upstairs, into their bedroom, the rain outside falling harder now—like a lullaby written for them alone.
The room was dimly lit. Just one bedside lamp casting a golden glow. Kairo laid Elián gently on the bed, then sat beside him, stroking his hair.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered, "if I go too far. I need to hear you say it."
"I will," Elián promised.
Kairo leaned down and kissed him again—this time slower, and Elián responded with equal softness. Their hands explored, hesitating and asking, then answering with each sigh and shiver.
Kairo's mouth moved to Elián's throat, leaving gentle kisses down to his collarbone. Elián arched into him, a moan escaping his lips.
"Take it slow," Elián said, breathless.
"I promise," Kairo murmured, lips brushing over his skin.
He pulled back briefly, fingers toying with the hem of Elián's sweater.
"Can I take this off?"
"Yes."
He removed it gently, revealing Elián's slender frame, still tense, still uncertain—but not afraid.
"Beautiful," Kairo whispered, almost reverently.
Elián pulled him down, tugging at his shirt. "Then let me see you too."
Kairo undressed, slow and unashamed this time—not because he thought he was perfect, but because with Elián, vulnerability felt safe.
Their bare skin met, warm and electric.
Kairo kissed every part of Elián he could reach—shoulders, chest, belly, even the scar on his side from an old injury. And each time, Elián's hands tangled deeper into his hair, pulling him closer, whispering his name like a plea.
"Kairo…"
"Yes, love?"
"Make me yours. But gently."
Kairo exhaled shakily, kissing him again, and again.
Their bodies moved slowly, melting into each other like dusk into night. Every movement was deliberate. Every breath shared. Every sigh answered.
He guided Elián's legs around his waist, pausing.
"Still okay?"
"Yes. Please."
And then, they became one—slowly, tenderly, breaths hitching, hands clutching, lips barely parting except for gasps of need and whispered "I love yous."
It wasn't rough. It wasn't rushed.
It was love—finally, after all the pain.
And when they came undone, it wasn't with noise but with silence, eyes locked, tears slipping from Kairo's lashes as he collapsed against Elián, trembling.
"I never want to hurt you again," he whispered.
"You won't," Elián whispered back, wrapping his arms around him. "Not when you love me like this."
—
Later, they lay tangled in the sheets, Kairo's head on Elián's chest, listening to his heartbeat.
"I want to remember this," Kairo said.
"You will."
"No, I mean… all of it. How it felt. How I touched you. How you looked at me."
Elián ran his fingers through Kairo's hair. "You looked scared."
"I was. I still am. You terrify me, Elián. Because I've never wanted anything this much. Not even success. Not even him."
Elián tilted his chin up. "Then stay terrified. Just don't run."
Kairo smiled—lazily, tiredly, but genuinely.
"I'm not running. Not anymore."
Elián kissed the crown of his head.
"Then let's sleep," he murmured. "And tomorrow... you can kiss me again."