Monty stepped closer to Romy, his heart thundering in his chest, unsure if the rush in his veins was fear, longing, or something deeper, something he had buried for too long. Romy sat at the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, lost in the weight of confessions that had only moments ago rewritten their entire truth.
Without a word, Monty knelt in front of him and gently wrapped his arms around Romy's waist. Romy didn't resist. He leaned into the warmth, into the touch that for the first time in years didn't feel like guilt, but something dangerously close to comfort.
Monty whispered near his ear, his breath trembling, "I've been holding myself back for so long... but when I found out you like men... I just... I couldn't hold it in anymore."
Romy turned slowly, their eyes meeting—both glassy, unsure, aching. Before he could speak, Monty leaned forward and pressed a soft, lingering kiss against his lips. It was hesitant at first, like a question.
Romy answered with a sigh and melted into it, their lips moving slowly but surely, years of tension unraveling in seconds.
Monty's hands gently pushed Romy back onto the bed, never breaking the kiss. His fingers threaded through Romy's, pinning their hands between them as their lips moved with increasing urgency. Romy responded with equal intensity, a soft moan escaping as Monty deepened the kiss.
Their breaths became shorter, warmer, shared between desperate, tender kisses. Romy's fingers squeezed Monty's hands tightly, and Monty pressed his forehead against Romy's, whispering, "I think I've been falling for you... even before I knew I could."
Romy's lips trembled. "I was afraid... of what it meant. Of losing everything."
"You're not losing me," Monty whispered back. "Not anymore."
Monty's lips hovered just above Romy's, their breaths mingling as he finally pulled back with a look that was equal parts guilt and desperation. He sank onto the edge of the bed beside Romy, shoulders tense.
"I need to tell you something," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. "About your marriage... Romy, there's something you don't know."
But he never got the chance to finish.
Before he could speak another word, Romy leaned forward with a sudden intensity, pushing Monty back onto the bed. In the quiet urgency of that moment, he straddled Monty, his hands cupping his face with trembling tenderness.
"I already know," Romy whispered, brushing a thumb across Monty's cheek. "And what I don't know... I'll ask you later."
His voice lowered to a breathy murmur, eyes locked on Monty's. "Right now, I can't hold myself back."
Monty's heart pounded, stunned by the way Romy looked at him, with hunger, with longing, and something far deeper than lust. Something aching.
Before Monty could find the words, Romy leaned down and pressed his lips softly against Monty's. It started as a passionate kiss, a question asked without words, but quickly deepened. Romy's lips found Monty's upper lip, tracing its curve, then capturing it with a gentle, urgent pull. He kissed him like a man who had waited too long, and Monty responded like a man who had forgotten how much he needed to be wanted.
Monty's eyes widened for a heartbeat, stunned by the rush of sensation, the electric warmth of Romy's lips, the weight of him above, the scent of his skin. But then he surrendered, closing his eyes as his arms slid around Romy's waist, pulling him closer.
Their bodies pressed together, tangled in a kiss that wasn't neat or planned, it was messy, unspoken, trembling with emotion and hidden truth.
Between kisses, Monty's voice broke the silence, hoarse and fragile. "Romy… why does it feel like I've known this forever?"
Romy didn't answer with words. His hands ran through Monty's hair, his kisses deeper now, slower, as if trying to etch each moment into memory. A soft groan escaped Monty's lips, lost between Romy's.
It was a kiss filled with every unsaid word, every suppressed feeling, every time they had looked away when they wanted to look closer.
Monty held him tighter. "Promise me this isn't just the moment."
Romy pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, his expression raw. "This is me, finally being honest... with myself, with you."
He leaned down again, lips brushing Monty's jaw, then his throat, reverent and gentle. "And it's not just the moment."
Romy's kiss deepened, each brush of his lips igniting a spark that seemed to burn brighter between them. The air grew thick with tension, raw, unspoken, and electric. His hands, slow and deliberate, explored Monty's back, fingertips tracing the curve of his spine, then slipping lower with a reverent touch, resting at the base, holding him close.
Monty gasped softly against Romy's lips, his body tensing and relaxing all at once, as if surrendering to a wave he no longer had the strength, or desire, to resist. Romy moved his mouth to Monty's neck, where he kissed the warm skin just below his jaw, tenderly at first… then with need.
The moment deepened as Romy lingered there, his lips and teeth gently pressing against Monty's neck, marking him, not out of possession, but out of something far more vulnerable. Monty's breath hitched. A quiet, involuntary moan escaped him, low and aching, as Romy pulled him closer, their bodies molded tightly together.
Monty's fingers tangled in Romy's shirt, gripping it as though afraid the moment might disappear if he let go. "Romy…" he whispered, half a plea, half a confession.
"I want to know how you taste… here," Romy murmured against Monty's skin, giving him one more slow kiss, leaving a warm mark just beneath his collarbone.
Monty's head tilted back, his eyes fluttering shut, letting himself feel everything—the desire, the confusion, the longing that had been buried for too long. Their bodies moved with a rhythm born not of lust alone, but of everything unsaid and everything they'd dared not dream.
Their breaths were uneven, tangled in each other's warmth, hearts racing in unison. Romy's hand lingered at the curve of Monty's back, his thumb gently brushing the skin beneath his shirt as if trying to memorize every inch. Monty's fingers had found their way into Romy's hair, holding him close—not just physically, but emotionally too.
It felt like a moment out of time. Nothing existed beyond this room—just the hush of their breaths, the heat of the moment, and the unspoken truths they had finally dared to face.
But then, just as Romy's lips trailed softly across Monty's collarbone, a sharp vibration buzzed between them.
Monty's phone lit up on the bedside table.
The name "Dad" flashed across the screen.
Monty's body tensed beneath Romy. The spell broke—fragile and sudden.
He hesitated, looking toward the phone, then back at Romy, who was watching him with a mixture of confusion and concern. Romy's hand slowly dropped from Monty's back, giving him space.
"I should take this," Monty said in a low voice, the moment still echoing between them.
Without another word, he leaned over, still lying close to Romy, and answered the call.
"Hello?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady, his heartbeat still thudding in his ears.