Page 84 of Smoke Signals

“Hey,” he murmurs against my mouth.

I shake my head once because I can’t form words yet.

My fingers curl into the back of his shirt and pull him closer, like I’m making sure he can’t disappear.

“You scared the hell out of me,” I manage finally.

His forehead rests against mine while he exhales slowly.

“I’m okay.”

I kiss him again before the words finish leaving his mouth.

Alaska appears beside us a second later and grabs his sleeve with both hands. Stellan crouches down immediately and lets her climb halfway into his arms while she signs his name with quick, excited movements.

“I know,” he tells her softly. “I missed you too.”

I watch them for a second before the tight pressure in my chest finally loosens.

Stellan stands again, Alaska still balanced on his hip, and looks back at me.

“You look like you’ve been holding your breath for an hour,” he says.

“Probably longer.”

He brushes his thumb along my jaw.

“Let me shower before you suffocate me.”

“Not happening,” I reply.

He huffs a quiet laugh, glancing down at Alaska.

“Alright, boss,” he murmurs to her. “You gonna let me go for five minutes?”

She pouts but nods and he sets her down on the couch, grabbing the remote and pressing it into her hands. The TV flickers as she settles in, already distracted.

“You’re in charge,” he tells her with a grin.

She beams.

Then his hand finds mine and we move toward the bathroom together, his hand sliding into mine like it belongs there.

The door closes behind us.

My heart pounds as I turn to him, desperation clawing at me from the inside out.

I thought I'd lost him, gone in that blaze, just ash and names on the news. But here he is, solid and real, his skin still carrying the sharp tang of smoke and charred wood that clings to his clothes and hair. I grab his shirt, yanking it over his head with frantic pulls, my fingers trembling as they brush his warm chest. He doesn't stop me; his eyes lock on mine, green and understanding as he kicks off his boots and shoves his pants down.

I strip too, clothes hitting the floor in a heap, my cock already hard and aching from the rush of relief mixed with raw need. Stellan's gaze drops to it, then back up and he steps closer, the scent of fire wrapping around us. His own erection stands thick and heavy, veins pulsing along its length, the tip glistening. I reach for him first, my hand wrapping around his shaft, feeling the heat of him throb against my palm. He groans low, his breath hot against my neck, and mirrors me, gripping my cock firmly.

But it's not enough. I need more…need to feel him everywhere, to erase the terror with this connection.

"Stellan," I whisper, voice breaking, and he nods, like he gets it all.

He takes both of us in his hands, one stacked over the other, his strong fingers encircling our cocks together. The friction hits like lightning as he starts stroking, sliding our lengths against each other, skin on skin, slick with the first beads of precum leaking from us both. I buck into his hold, gasping at the pressure. The way his hardness grinds along mine, ridges catching and dragging, the friction turning sharp and desperate.

The smell of smoke intensifies as sweat beads on his skin, mixing with the musky scent of our arousal. His grip tightens, pumping us together, thumbs swiping over the sensitive heads in tandem. I clutch his shoulders, nails digging in, my hips thrusting erratically while he controls the pace, his breaths coming ragged bursts. Relief floods me, chasing away the fear with every slide, every pulse.