It was past midnight when the storm outside finally died.
But inside Pete's apartment, the tension between them was just beginning to rise.
Mek hadn't spoken since the kiss. He hadn't needed to. The way he looked at Pete—lips swollen, cheeks flushed, pupils wide—it said everything.
He wanted this.
But he was scared of it, too.
So Pete gave him space.
Until Mek crossed the room in silence, walked straight up to Pete, and placed a hand on his chest. Right over his heart.
"Why me?" he whispered. "You could have anyone."
Pete placed his hand over Mek's. "Because I don't want anyone. I want you. With all your sharp edges, cold stares, messed-up past—I want it all."
Mek looked away.
Pete gently lifted his chin, forcing Mek to meet his gaze.
"I want to know what it feels like to hold you... without you running away."
That broke something.
Mek surged forward—this time he kissed Pete. Desperate. Fierce. Like something inside him finally snapped loose.
They stumbled back toward the bedroom, lips never parting, hands roaming like they'd been starving for this.
Pete let Mek take the lead.
His shirt was yanked off first. Mek's followed. Fingers trembled, mouths clashed, but it wasn't just lust—it was something deeper. Something broken in both of them... trying to heal through skin and breath and whispers in the dark.
Pete cupped Mek's face as they fell onto the bed.
"You okay?" he whispered.
Mek nodded, barely breathing. "Don't be gentle."
Pete smirked, brushing his lips over Mek's neck. "Then don't act like you're made of glass."
The rest was a blur of tangled limbs, gasps, heat. Pete kissed every inch of him—slow where Mek needed comfort, rough where he needed to feel wanted.
Mek clung to him like a lifeline.
Pete whispered things between kisses. Soft promises. Dirty praise. Truths Mek had never heard from anyone else.
And when it was over—when they lay tangled in sheets, sweat-slicked and hearts still racing—Pete kissed Mek's forehead and held him close.
"Still wanna push me away?" Pete teased.
Mek didn't answer right away.
Then, so softly Pete almost missed it:
"…No."
Pete smiled, tightening his grip around the boy in his arms.
Finally.
Finally, Mek was his.