Chapter 78 Aslan
Aslan
I didn’t want to complicate things anymore.
I had felt. I had hurt.
But right now, all I wanted was to stay here—with him.
I didn’t know if I could give him the kind of feelings he deserved yet.
But I knew there was something I could give him. Something I could give us both.
And for this moment… I wanted that with him more than anything else.
My hand slid down between us, through the warm water, finding him. I wrapped my fingers around his cock, thick and heavy in my palm. He let out a sharp breath, his head falling back against the edge of the tub. I started to stroke him, slowly at first, learning his length, his rhythm.
"Fuck, Aslan," he panted, his hips thrusting gently into my hand. "That feels… so good."
I watched his face, the way his eyes fluttered closed, the way his lips parted in a silent moan. I leaned in to kiss him, swallowing the sounds he was making. He was so responsive, so open. It was intoxicating.
After a few minutes, he gently pushed my hand away. Before I could protest, he had his hands on my hips, lifting me effortlessly. He sat me on the wide, tiled edge of the tub, my legs still dangling in the warm water. The cool air on my wet skin made me gasp.
He knelt between my legs, looking up at me with a wicked grin. "I'm pretty sure, I started this once too," he said, his voice husky with desire.
I laughed, breathless. "I think you did!"
He smirked, lowering his head to press a kiss to my inner thigh. "It's time that one of us finishes it…"
"Or both," I managed to say, my voice trembling with anticipation.
And then he took me into his mouth. Hot, wet, perfect. His tongue swirled around the head, his lips sliding down my shaft, taking me deeper and deeper until I was hitting the back of his throat. Just like if done before… but not with him. With—
No. Stop! It's just the here and now. And he's everything Garrett will never be…
I fisted my hands in his wet hair, my back arching. He was relentless, his head bobbing in a steady rhythm, one of his hands wrapping around the base of my cock to stroke what his mouth couldn't reach.
Through the haze of pleasure, I saw his other hand disappear beneath the water. He was stroking himself; the thought of it, the sight of his arm moving under the surface, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.
"I'm gonna… Aitor, I'm close," I gasped, my hips starting to buck.
He pulled back just in time, looking up at me with his lips swollen and his eyes dark with lust. I leaned down, crashing my mouth against his, tasting myself on his tongue. It was dirty and primal and so fucking hot.
Without breaking the kiss, I stepped down the edge of the tub, bringing our cocks together above the surface. I wrapped one hand around both of us, my thumb smearing the precum leaking from my tip over his head. The friction was incredible, our slick, hard lengths sliding against each other in my grip.
"Fuck, yes," Aitor groaned against my mouth, his own hand covering mine, squeezing tighter.
We moved together, a frantic, desperate rhythm. The water splashed around us, the music faded into a distant hum, all I could hear was our ragged breathing and the slap of skin on skin. It built and built, a coil of heat tightening in my gut, until it finally snapped.
My whole body went rigid, a strangled cry tearing from my throat as I came hard, spilling over my hand and his. Aitor followed a second later, his body shuddering against mine as he groaned my name into the kiss. We rode it out together, gasping and shaking, until the last wave of pleasure subsided.
I collapsed back, sinking into the water and pulling him with me. We lay there for a long time, a tangled, breathless mess, the hot water swirling gently around us. The candles had burned lower, the music softer. It was quiet. It was peaceful. It was ours.
Dinner that night was easy and relaxed. While the chicken reheated in the oven, I called my mom and propped the phone against the counter so she could see us both. The moment she appeared on the screen, smiling in that warm way that always made me feel like I was still twelve years old, we exchanged Thanksgiving wishes before her eyes immediately moved past me.
“And who is that handsome young man with you?”
I felt my face heat instantly.
“He's Aitor, Mom,” I said shyly, which only made Aitor laugh softly beside me.
“We’re… seeing each other,” he added with a polite little nod toward the phone, his voice warm and respectful.
My mother’s smile widened immediately.
“Well, I’m very happy to meet you,” she said, clearly excited for me.
Aitor slipped into conversation with her easily, in the same charming, thoughtful way he did with everyone. They talked about school, about the holidays, and before long she was already inviting him to come visit for Christmas.
“You will come with Aslan, won’t you?” she asked hopefully.
Aitor glanced at me before answering, his smile gentle.
“We'd talked about it; I’d love to.”
The rest of the weekend passed in a quiet, easy rhythm that felt almost unreal. We walked around the lake more than once, talked about music, art, and the strange lives we had both somehow lived before Crownwell. Sometimes we just sat together by the fire without saying much at all, which somehow felt just as important as the conversations.
And yes… we probably spent almost as much time in the jacuzzi as we did in the bed.
Exploring each other slowly. Kissing. Laughing. Learning each other's bodies and fooling around a lot—touching, sucking, stroking...
But we never crossed that final line.
Not yet.
Somewhere inside me, I knew I wasn’t ready for that step, and Aitor never pushed. He seemed content simply being there with me, letting things unfold at their own pace.
Still, even during the best moments, a quiet weight followed me, because there were things I hadn’t told him.
Things that, in anyone’s eyes, were big enough to be a deal-breaker.
Like my heart condition… And also, the real reason I had accepted the scholarship without thinking...
The horrible scandal back home. The secret that had been hanging over me since the night that happened.
One afternoon while we were sitting by the lake again, Aitor hesitated before speaking.
“I don’t want to bring up anything inappropriate, angel,” he said carefully, “but I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”
I looked at him immediately, my stomach tightening.
“I heard someone mention that something happened at your previous school.”
The words hit me like a punch. My first instinct was panic.
Seeing my reaction, Aitor quickly lifted his hands in reassurance.
“I don’t know anything,” he said gently. “Just that something happened. And I didn’t ask for details. No one had them anyway.”
He met my eyes, calm and steady.
“I just wanted you to know that if you ever want to talk about it… I’m here.”
It didn’t take a genius to guess who had brought that rumor to him, but I shook my head slowly.
“It’s… a family thing,” I said quietly. “I’m just not ready to talk about it yet.”
Aitor nodded immediately.
“That’s okay.”
And just like that, he let it go.
No pressure. No questions, which somehow made the guilt feel even heavier, but this was my own thing to deal with, just like my health was.
Still, I tried to open up to him where I could. More than I had with almost anyone before. By the time Sunday evening came around and we packed the car to head back to Crownwell, it felt like something real had grown between us.
Something warm. Something honest. Something I hoped I wouldn’t end up breaking.