I feel it, how hard he’s holding back as my grinding into his hand turns into frantic bucking. My breathing blooms into a panicked rhythm, my toes curling, the tips of his fingers massaging on every journey they make out of me before they crash deeper again.

His kisses are frantic and rushed, like he’s right there with me, like the way I am in the moment—a beat away from falling apart—is his ultimate fantasy.

“That’s it,” Fitz coaxes, his words punctuated by rolls of his tongue until he parks his mouth at the corner of mine. Inside, his finger curls, beckoning my release. “God, you’re so beautiful when you’re about to fall apart.”

My hips move faster and Fitz lays a delicate kiss at the corner of my mouth.

“Come on my hand. All over it.”

Sinking my nails into his shoulder isn’t enough. I fling my hand down, gripping his length over his underwear. Because I want for him what he does for me. “Only if you do too.”

He’s thick and scorching even though I’m stroking him through fabric, doing what I can to match the pace of his fingers as they fuck me.

“Fuck,” he grunts out. “Fuck, I’m with you, Parker.”

I’m with you.

His words push me over the edge, but I’m still holding onto him. I take him with me.

Panting, sweating, and still clinging to him as his cum seeps through his underwear and warms my hand, I land in a puddle, splashing in a pool of vulnerability, which makes me feel so unbelievably exposed.

It’s not the way my clothes hang off my body or that Fitz feels my nervous heartbeat from the inside before he slips his fingers out of me. It’s that I needed someone. I needed him in this very moment in this room on a different level than I need him outside of it.

I’m terrified I’ll never not need Fitz in this way again. He senses it, and his hold on me shifts, morphing into something soft but protective, even though it’s what’s in my head that terrifies me. And like how I feel about locking the door, Fitz can’t change that. But he tries. God, he’s been trying, and I’m flooded with emotion as I drown in that realization.

“Shh,” he whispers. “I’m with you.”

Day 113