What if He Knew: Chapter Five - Gravity

The morning sun usually brings the cold reality of the day before. But for Boston, waking up in Finn’s bed isn't a regret—it’s a revelation. The secrets are gone, the tension has snapped, and the man who has been his best friend for a decade is finally exactly where he belongs. In the quiet warmth of a New Hampshire morning, the "What If" series comes to a stunning, spicy conclusion. There are no more masks to wear and no more words left unsaid. There is only the heat of the present and the promise of a future where they never have to be alone again.

Chapter Three 

Finn 

Gravity

The first thing I notice isn't the light. It’s the weight.

For ten years, I’ve woken up with a hollowness in my chest, a phantom limb syndrome for a life I wasn't allowed to have. But this morning, there is a heavy, solid arm draped over my ribs, the palm flat against my stomach. There’s the steady, rhythmic puff of warm breath against the back of my neck.

I’m paralyzed, but not by fear. I’m afraid that if I breathe too deeply, the molecules of the room will rearrange themselves and I’ll be back in my own bed, alone.

Then, Finn moves.

He groans, a low, gravelly sound that vibrates right through my spine. His nose brushes against the sensitive skin just behind my ear, and then I feel it—the press of his lips against my shoulder blade. It’s a slow, lingering kiss, followed by another at the base of my skull.

"Morning," he mutters, his voice thick with sleep. He pulls me closer, dragging my back flush against his chest.

I can feel everything now. The rough hair on his legs against mine, the hard, morning heat of him pressing into the small of my back, and the proprietary way he’s holding me. It’s the kind of hold that says mine.

"Morning," I whisper, finally finding my voice. I turn my head slightly, catching his eye. The amber morning sun is flooding the room, and Finn looks... wrecked. His hair is a disaster, his jaw is dark with stubble, and his eyes are hooded and heavy with a look that makes my stomach flip.

"You're still here," I say, the thought slipping out before I can stop it.

Finn’s expression softens, but his grip tightens. He shifts, hiking his knee up to hook over my hip, pinning me down. "I told you, Bos. I'm not going anywhere. In fact..." He leans down, nipping at the cord of my neck, his hand sliding down from my stomach to the curve of my hip. "I think I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be."

The shift from domestic to desperate happens in a heartbeat.

He flips me onto my back, his body looming over mine, the sunlight catching the muscles of his chest. He doesn't give me time to think. He’s kissing me again, his tongue demanding entry, his hands pinning mine to the pillow above my head. It’s the "push and shove" again, but there’s no anger in it this time—just a decade of hunger that one night couldn't possibly satisfy.

He moves between my legs, his weight a crushing, beautiful reality. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him in, my heels digging into his lower back. I want him closer. I want the skin to disappear.

"Finn," I gasp, my head hitting the headboard as he moves down, his mouth finding my nipple, his teeth grazing the peak until I’m arching off the bed. "Please. Now."

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his chest heaving. He reaches for the nightstand—a fumble of foil, a quiet snap of latex—and then he’s back, hovering over me, his hand shaking slightly as he guides himself to the opening of my heat.

But he stops. He holds my gaze, his eyes searching mine with a sudden, grounding seriousness.

“Boston,” he rasps, his thumb tracing my lower lip. “Are you sure? I mean… have you ever even done this before?”

The honesty of the question makes my face heat up, but I don’t look away. I can’t afford to be shy now. “I’ve… yes. I’ve done it. But not with a man.”

Finn’s brow furrows, a flash of genuine confusion crossing his face as he tries to do the math on my history. I feel a small, nervous laugh bubble up in my chest at the look on him.

“I have a toy, Finn,” I mutter, my voice dropping an octave. “I’m not… I’m not going in blind.”

A slow, wicked smirk spreads across Finn’s face, the first real glimpse of the cocky, playful Finn I’ve loved for years, but sharpened with a new, sexual edge.

“A toy, huh?” He chuckles, the sound low and vibrating against my thighs. He leans down, his nose brushing mine. “Well, I’m glad you practiced, Bos. But I promise I’m going to feel a hell of a lot better than silicone.”

He doesn’t wait for a comeback. He shifts his weight, his expression turning focused and intense as he begins to ease himself in.

The first press of him is a slow, agonizing burn. I’ve spent a thousand nights imagining what this would feel like, but the reality is overwhelming. He’s too big, too much, and yet he’s the only thing that fits. He waits, his arms trembling as he holds himself up, giving me a second to adjust to the incredible fullness of him.

"You okay?" he rasps, his eyes searching mine, fierce and protective.

"Don't you dare stop," I choke out, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling his face down to mine.

He groans, a sound of pure surrender, and sinks into me.

The air leaves my lungs in a rush. It’s a total invasion, a complete shattering of every boundary I ever built to keep him out. He starts to move, long, slow strokes that feel like they’re reaching right into my soul. Every time he thrusts forward, he’s erasing another year of silence. Every time he pulls back, he’s taking a piece of me with him.

The rhythm builds, the bed creaking, the only sound in the room is the harsh, jagged gasps of our breathing. I’m a mess beneath him, my eyes rolling back, my voice breaking as I moan his name over and over. He isn't being gentle anymore. He’s being thorough. He’s marking me from the inside out, his pace turning frantic, his skin slick with sweat that makes us slide against each other.

"Look at me, Boston," he commands, his voice a rough growl.

I open my eyes, my vision blurring. He’s watching me with an intensity that’s almost frightening. He wants to see it. He wants to see the moment I break.

"You're mine," he mutters, the words punctuated by a hard, deep thrust that makes me cry out. "Say it. Say you're mine."

"Yours," I sob, my hips rising to meet his, my world narrowing down to the friction and the heat and the man who has always been my gravity. "Always yours, Finn."

That’s the breaking point. Finn’s pace turns into a blurred, desperate gallop. He’s gripping my hips so hard his fingers are leaving marks, his head buried in the crook of my neck as he loses his rhythm, loses his mind. I’m right there with him, the tension in my gut coiling tighter and tighter until it snaps, a white-hot explosion of pleasure that leaves me shaking and sightless.

Finn follows a second later, a low, guttural shout escaping him as he spends himself deep inside me, his body collapsing against mine, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my own.

We stay like that for a long time, the sunlight moving across the floor, the world outside Finn’s apartment completely forgotten. He doesn't pull out. He just stays heavy and warm, his face hidden in my neck, his breath finally evening out.

I run my hand down his back, feeling the sweat and the muscle, the reality of him. The "What If" is dead. The silence is gone.

I’m not tired anymore. For the first time in ten years, I’m finally awake.

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Copyright © by LS Phoenix

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Published by LS Phoenix

New Hampshire, USA

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First Edition: January 2026

Cover Design by LS Phoenix