The room feels quieter now. Like even the ocean outside knows something sacred is happening here.Est lies back on the sheets, bare from the waist up, his shark tattoo catching the soft amber light. William watches him for a long moment, taking in every line of his body like a man memorizing a prayer. The years, the fights, the weeks of silence — they all live in the space between them, but they’re not running from it anymore. They’re choosing to face it. Together.

William climbs over him slowly, one knee between Est’s legs, his palms pressing down on either side of Est’s ribs. He leans in — not to devour, but to worship. A kiss to his collarbone. One to his throat. Another just beside the tattoo, where Est’s heart beats closest to the surface.

Est sighs and lets his hands wander up William’s back. “You’re so gentle tonight.”

William’s lips brush his ear. “Because I want to feel you. All of you.”

There’s no rush. No frantic energy. They take their time — touching, holding, breathing each other in like the world outside has gone silent and only they exist. Est’s hands slide down William’s chest, exploring familiar ground that still feels new. William leans into the contact, letting Est pull at the hem of his shirt until it’s gone.

They’re skin to skin now, heat passing between them in quiet waves.

“Tell me you want this,” William whispers, his voice low, reverent.

Est’s fingers find the back of William’s neck and pull him down until their foreheads touch. “I don’t want anything else.”

William strips Est completely naked and starts kissing between Est's legs. He leaves traces of love, and Est enjoys the moment of bliss. After a while, Est pushes William away and starts taking off William's pants, starts kissing William from his chest to his waist. Then, leaving William without underwear, William lays Est down and starts kissing every part of him. He slowly inserts his penis into Est, Est smiles, after all, this is his boy. William starts moving and at the same time kisses Est's back.

The sheets are tangled around their legs, forgotten somewhere near the foot of the bed. The only light in the room spills from the half-open balcony door — a soft silver glow that paints their skin in moonlight and shadow.

They’ve been moving together slowly, like a tide drawing in after a storm. Nothing hurried. Nothing careless. Just the quiet, steady ache of two people trying to say everything through touch that they couldn’t say aloud for weeks.

William’s breath is uneven now, his body moving in sync with Est’s. Every slow thrust draws a soft, helpless sound from Est’s throat, the kind that curls right around William’s spine and pulls him deeper — not just physically, but into that place only Est has ever taken him.

Est’s hands slide up William’s back, his nails lightly pressing into skin, anchoring them both. His legs wrap tighter around William’s waist, drawing him in, holding him close. His eyes are closed, but his lips part with every breath, every tremble of sensation building under the surface.

“William,” he whispers, voice breaking like surf on sand.

William leans in, his forehead resting against Est’s temple, his mouth brushing the words into Est’s skin. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

The rhythm becomes slower, deeper. Intimate in a way that isn’t just about pleasure — it’s about presence. About being seen. About belonging again.

Est arches slightly, his body responding without thought now, guided by muscle memory and longing. A quiet gasp escapes him, and then another, more desperate. His hands grip William’s shoulders, not out of need — but because he can’t not hold on.

They’re both close now. Teetering on that razor-thin edge where sensation folds into emotion and everything inside becomes too much to hold.

Est turns his face into William’s neck. “I — ” he starts, but it’s too much. Too fast. He’s trembling.

William doesn’t speak. He just cups Est’s face and kisses him hard — deep and open and full of every unspoken I missed you, every don’t let go.

Their bodies move in perfect rhythm now — slow, desperate, wordless. Not chasing something, but surrendering to it. The tension has been building quietly for minutes, blooming in the silence between gasps, in the way Est's fingertips dig into William's shoulders, in the way William holds Est's gaze like it's the only truth in the room.

It happens gradually and all at once.

Est's back arches beneath him, his breath catching on a sharp inhale, eyes fluttering shut as something deep inside him breaks loose — too big to hold, too soft to stop. His whole body tenses, every nerve lit like fire, and then he shuddered. It's not just release — it's relief, like something that's been buried in silence has finally been allowed to speak. He whispers William's name like a confession.

And William is right there with him.

His arms tighten around Est's waist, anchoring him. His face presses into Est's neck as his own breath falters — staggering, raw, like he's unraveling from the inside out. He's shaking, not from weakness but from everything he's been trying not to feel for weeks. The exhaustion. The longing. The overwhelming rush of this is real, this is us, this is still here.

Their bodies still, but neither pulls away.

Est's fingers twitch along William's spine. William cups Est's face with both hands, brushing his thumb under one damp eye. They don't speak. There's no need.

Because in that moment, the silence between them is full — of heat, of gratitude, of something fierce and fragile that tastes a lot like love.