He Didn't leave

Maya woke up to the weight of his arm across her stomach.

For a moment, she thought it was a dream. The kind she used to have when she still believed men stayed. When she thought touch could mean comfort and not just hunger. She lay still, eyes open, watching the pale morning light bleed through the window.

Elias’s breath was slow and steady against her neck. His chest pressed to her back, skin to skin. Warm. Real.

He hadn’t left.

She didn’t know how to feel about that.

Maya turned slightly, slow enough not to wake him. He didn’t stir. His face was relaxed in sleep, but even in rest he looked guarded. Like someone who never truly let go. His jaw was shadowed with stubble, his brows drawn in that same quiet intensity he always wore.

She let her fingers graze the top of his hand where it rested on her body. He didn’t move, but something in her chest twisted at the touch. Softness wasn’t supposed to follow what they did last night.

Sex wasn’t supposed to feel this quiet.

When she finally shifted enough to sit up, the sheet slid down her body. Her skin still hummed. Her thighs ached. She felt open, exposed in more ways than just physical. As if something had been pulled out of her and left on the sheets between them.

She moved to the bathroom, not bothering with clothes. She caught sight of herself in the mirror. Hair messy. Lips swollen. Her neck marked with the soft purples of his mouth.

Her reflection looked like someone else. Someone shameless. Alive.

The toilet flushed, the tap ran. When she opened the door again, Elias was sitting up in bed.

He didn’t look surprised to see her standing there naked. He didn’t look away, either.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here,” she said.

He shrugged once. “You asked me to stay.”

“That doesn’t usually mean anything.”

“Did it for me.”

Her heart fluttered. She hated it.

Maya crossed the room and pulled on a long T-shirt from the floor. His eyes followed her, but he didn’t speak. Just watched.

“I should make coffee,” she said, mostly to fill the silence.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

He leaned back on his hands, still bare, the sheet barely covering his hips.

“You okay?” he asked.

She hesitated. “Yes.”

“That sounded like a lie.”

Maya forced a laugh. “It’s morning. I’m always a mess in the morning.”

Elias didn’t smile, but his eyes softened a little.

“Last night,” he said. “That wasn’t... a game.”

“I know.”

“I don’t do casual.”

Maya blinked. “That’s funny. It felt pretty casual to me.”

He stood then, walking toward her. Naked. Unashamed. He stopped inches away, his chest rising and falling a little faster now.

“You think I walk into just anyone’s apartment like that?”

“I think I don’t know anything about you.”

“You know how I touch you,” he said. “You know how you taste on my tongue. You know what you sound like when you come. You know more than most.”

She swallowed hard. “You think that’s enough?”

“No,” he said. “But it’s a start.”

She backed up a step. Not from fear, but from the weight of everything between them. “Elias... this can’t be what it is.”

He tilted his head. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t trust myself. Because I don’t know what I’m doing. Because I’ve been through things that make this feel like drowning.”

He nodded once. “So have I.”

Maya looked away. Her hands trembled.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“But you could.”

“Yes.”

“And that doesn’t scare you?”

“It terrifies me.”

The air was thick again. Too much. Too close. She hated how badly she wanted him to touch her, even now. Especially now.

She moved toward the kitchen instead. She needed space. She needed routine. She needed something that didn’t feel like her life was slipping off its rails.

Elias followed, pulling on his jeans but leaving his chest bare. He leaned against the counter while she poured water into the kettle.

“You live alone?” he asked.

Maya nodded.

“Family?”

“My brother, somewhere in Atlanta. We don’t talk much.”

He didn’t press.

“You?” she asked, glancing back.

“No one left.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “That why you’re here?”

“I’m here because I needed a place with silence.”

Maya scoffed. “Then you moved into the wrong building.”

“I didn’t expect you.”

The way he said it made her legs weak.

She turned back to the kettle, but his presence loomed behind her now. He stepped in close, pressed a hand to her waist. His lips brushed the back of her neck, slow and warm.

“You taste like sin,” he whispered.

“I’m not a good idea,” she breathed.

“Neither am I.”

His hand slipped beneath her shirt, fingers splaying across her stomach. Her head fell back against his shoulder. Her body betrayed her again, arching into his touch.

She turned around, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. Their teeth knocked, breath mingled. He lifted her onto the counter and pulled her panties down in one swift motion.

“No time for coffee?” she gasped.

“I’ll make it after I fuck you.”

Her laugh turned into a moan as he slid into her, her legs wrapping around him instinctively. The kitchen counter groaned beneath them. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders. His hands gripped her hips with bruising force.

She bit his lip.

He growled against her throat.

When she came, it was raw. Loud. She didn’t hold back. She didn’t want to.

He followed right after, spilling into her with a shudder that felt like something deeper breaking loose.

They stayed like that for a moment, breathing hard, bodies tangled.

Then he kissed her forehead and whispered, “Still want that coffee?”