The morning sun slipped through the blinds, casting a soft line of light across Gawin’s bare back.
He was still asleep—face relaxed in a way Joss rarely got to see.
His lips slightly parted, breath even, lashes fluttering like he was still caught in some unfinished dream.
No defenses. No tension.
Just... asleep next to someone, and finally letting himself rest.

Joss had been awake for a while.
But he didn’t move.
He just lay there, eyes fixed on Gawin’s face.
Not because he was beautiful.
Not out of lust.
But because—for the first time—Joss felt something wordless and whole: trust.

“You’re staring like I’m gonna vanish.”
Gawin stirred, voice thick with sleep, eyes still shut.

“You’re the one I’m not letting slip away again.”

Gawin let out a quiet laugh, eyes opening halfway.

“Say cheesy things like that and I might just kiss you.”

And he did—without pause, without pretense.
Just a morning kiss. Warm, soft, like waking up next to each other was the most natural thing in the world.

Then the phone rang.

It cut right through the moment.
Gawin sat up, glanced at the screen.
His expression shifted—just a flicker.

Beam.

He didn’t answer. But he didn’t silence it either.
Joss saw the name.
Didn’t ask. Didn’t need to.

They went home in silence.
But it wasn’t the heavy kind.
It was a quiet comfort—like things no longer had to be said to be understood.

That evening, Gawin was in the shower.
Joss was making dinner.
The phone rang again.

He picked up.

“Hi, Joss. I know you and Gawin are seeing each other.”

Beam. Direct, steady, skipping any pleasantries.
Joss set the knife down, wiped his hands.

“That’s not your business.”

Beam chuckled—low, but sharp.

“Did he tell you I used to be his ex?”

That made Joss freeze.
Just a beat. But enough to feel it tighten in his chest.

“I just want to be sure of one thing—that you’re serious. Don’t hurt him again.”

Dinner that night, Gawin noticed something in Joss.
Not distance. Not a mask.
Just... stillness.

“Something wrong?”
He asked, placing food into Joss’s bowl.
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing it again...”

Joss set his chopsticks down.
Eyes slow, steady as they met Gawin’s.

“You and Beam... was there something?”

Gawin looked up.
He didn’t deny it.
Didn’t rush to explain.

“Almost. But we never crossed that line.”
A pause. Then a tilt of the head:
“You jealous?”

Joss didn’t answer.
But his eyes did—loudly.

“Then...” Gawin said, lips lifting in a slow grin, “this time, hold onto me tighter.”

They didn’t wait.
They didn’t need to.
They ended up on the bed like there was nothing else in the world but this—this moment, this need, this choice.

No lights.
No music.
Just breath.
And touch.

Joss eased Gawin back onto the mattress, pulling the thin shirt over his head.
Gawin didn’t resist.
No words.
Just surrender—not out of weakness, but faith.

“Slow…” Gawin whispered as Joss kissed down his spine, lips hot as they traced every bone.
“I go soft every time you touch me like that…”
“I know.”
Joss’s breath caught against his skin.

Their rhythm wasn’t rushed.
Wasn’t wild.
It was careful.
Deliberate.
Like Joss was carving his name into Gawin’s skin, marking him in ways no one else ever could.

Gawin moaned softly, mouth open, hands gripping the sheets.

“Don’t… stop…”

When they came, it was like a bowstring snapping—every nerve alight, every emotion spilling over.
A mixture of ache and release.
Of love, and fear.
Fear of losing.
Of drifting apart.
Of everything breaking again.

When it was over, they lay still—sweat-drenched sheets beneath them, chests rising unevenly.

Joss pulled Gawin close, arm wrapped tight around his waist.
No words.
But everything between them was louder than ever.

As Gawin’s breathing began to slow, drifting toward sleep,
Joss whispered into the quiet, voice low, slow—like a vow sealed in the dark:

“If Beam ever comes looking for you again... just tell him this: No matter who it is, they’re not taking you from me.”

@nopbyy Việt Nam 🇻🇳