What if He Knew: Chapter Four - Gravity

The drive from the diner was a blur of frantic hands and desperate breaths. Now, behind the closed door of Finn’s apartment, the boundaries that defined Boston and Finn for a decade have finally crumbled. There are no more secrets. No more "just friends." Only the heat of skin on skin and the realization that they’ve both been starving for the same thing. In a night fueled by ten years of suppressed hunger, Boston finally learns what it feels like to be wanted—and Finn realizes that the person he’s been looking for has been by his side all along. But as the adrenaline fades, they’re left with the biggest question of all: how do they build a future on the ruins of their past?

Chapter Four 

Finn 

Gravity

The drive to my apartment is the longest five minutes of my life.

I’m driving like a maniac, one hand white-knuckled on the steering wheel and the other gripped firmly on Boston’s neck. I can’t let go. It’s like if I break the contact, he’ll vanish, or I’ll wake up in that diner booth and realize I imagined the taste of him. My thumb is tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the way he’s trembling. He’s staring straight ahead, his breathing jagged, his hand resting on my thigh, fingers digging into the denim of my jeans so hard I’ll probably have bruises by morning.

I want those bruises. I want every mark he’s willing to leave.

I don’t even think I turned the engine off all the way before I was out of the door. I beat him to the passenger side, yanking the door open and pulling him into me before he could even stand up straight. We don’t make it two steps toward the stairs before my back hits the brick wall of the apartment complex and his mouth is back on mine.

This isn’t the careful, quiet Boston I’ve known for ten years. This is someone else. Someone hungry. Someone who’s been starving in plain sight while I sat next to him and talked about the weather.

“Key,” he gasps against my lips, his hands fumbling at my waist, searching for the pocket where I shoved my lanyard. “Finn. The goddamn key.”

“Working on it,” I growl, finally catching his lips again to shut him up.

I find the key by sheer muscle memory, shoving it into the lock and pushing us inside. I don’t even bother with the lights. The streetlamp outside the window throws a slanted, amber glow across the hardwood, highlighting the dust motes and the mess of shoes by the door. I kick the door shut with my heel, a heavy, final thud, and then I have him against the wood.

My hands are everywhere. I need to know the shape of him. I’ve seen Boston shirtless a thousand times. At the lake, in the locker rooms, crashed out on my couch. But I’ve never seen him like this. I’ve never looked at the slope of his shoulders or the line of his throat and felt this desperate, gnawing need to own it.

I yank his hoodie over his head, my movements rough and impatient. He helps me, his own hands frantic as he tugs at my shirt, skin finally meeting skin in the dark.

The heat of him is a shock. He’s solid and warm, his chest rising and falling in sync with mine. I slide my hands down his back, my palms flat against his skin, and feel the way he shudders. It’s a physical reaction, a total surrender to the touch, and it makes something primal roar to life in my gut.

“Ten years,” I mutter, burying my face in the crook of his neck. He smells like the diner and the cold night air and something that is just Boston. “Ten years, Bos. How did I not know?”

“Because I didn’t want you to,” he whispers, his voice breaking. He arches into me, his hips seeking mine, the friction through our jeans making my vision go dark. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t lose you.”

“You’re never losing me,” I say, and it’s a vow.

I lift him, his legs instinctively hooking around my waist, and carry him the short distance to the bedroom. We hit the mattress hard, a tangle of limbs and gasping breaths. The "push and shove" is back—we’re fighting for dominance, fighting for breath, fighting to get as close as two human beings can possibly be.

I’m over him in a second, pinning his wrists above his head. He looks up at me, his hair a mess, his lips swollen and red, and his eyes… God, his eyes. They’re full of that same terrifying love he confessed in the diner, but now there’s something else there. Desire. Hot and unapologetic.

“Finn,” he says, my name sounding like a prayer and a plea all at once.

I let go of his wrists and slide my hand down, my fingers glancing over his ribs, his stomach, until I reach the button of his jeans. I pause, looking him dead in the eye. I want him to be sure. I want him to know that once this happens, the best friends we used to be are gone forever.

“You sure?” I rasp.

Boston reaches up, his hand cupping my face, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “I’ve been sure since I was fifteen, Finn. Just… please. Don’t stop.”

So I don’t.

The clothes are gone in a flurry of denim and cotton, tossed somewhere onto the floor. When I finally feel him against me, completely bare, it feels like the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place. I slide my hand between our bodies, catching the soft moan he makes when I wrap my fingers around his cicj. He’s hot and slick, his head hitting the pillow as he arches his back, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Look at me,” I command, my voice rough.

He opens them, those blue-grey depths swimming with heat. I start to move my hand, a slow, steady rhythm that has him gripping the sheets until they tear. I lean down, my mouth hovering just inches from his.

“I’m gonna make you forget every second you spent wondering 'what if',” I whisper.

I capture his mouth again, deeper this time, my tongue mimicking the motion of my hand. Boston is a riot of sound beneath me, low groans, sharp intakes of breath, and my name whispered like it’s the only word he knows. He’s so responsive, so sensitive to every touch, it makes me feel powerful and humbled all at once.

I shift, my knee forcing his legs wider, and I use my free hand to explore. I want to know every inch of him. I want to know the spot behind his ear that makes him gasp, the way his stomach muscles quiver when I lick his skin, the way he tastes.

The tension in the room is thick enough to choke on. Every time our hips collide, it’s a spark. Every time he drags his nails down my back, it’s a brand. We aren’t just touching. We’re erasing a decade of distance. We’re making up for every night we spent on separate sides of a couch, pretending we weren't thinking about exactly this.

"Finn," Boston gasps, his body tightening. He reaches down, his fingers fumbling between us until he finds me, his grip tight and desperate. The sudden, hot friction of his hand against me makes my vision go white.

My own body is screaming for more, my heart hammering against my ribs as he matches my rhythm. It’s messy and frantic, a decade of just friends burning up in the heat of his palm.

“Finn, I can’t…” Boston gasps, his body tightening, his fingers digging into my shoulders. “I’m close. I’m so close.”

"Stay with me," I mutter, my voice breaking as I press my forehead to his, both of us caught in the same desperate momentum.

I watch him fall. I watch the way his face contorts, the way he loses his breath, the way his entire body spasms as he comes, his name for me a broken, beautiful sound in the quiet of the room. I follow him a second later, the pleasure so intense it’s almost painful, a white-hot explosion that leaves me hollow and whole all at the same time.

I collapse against him, my face buried in his chest, our hearts racing in a frantic, overlapping beat. The silence that follows isn't the heavy, suffocating silence of the diner. It’s light. It’s easy.

It’s the sound of two people finally finding where they belong.

I shift after a moment, expecting him to pull away, to get that ‘what have I done’ look in his eyes. But Boston just wraps his arms tighter around me, tucking his head under my chin.

“Still here?” he whispers.

I press a kiss to the top of his head, my hand splayed over his heart. “I’m not going anywhere, Bos. Not ever.”

Come back tomorrow for another chapter

Copyright © by LS Phoenix

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Published by LS Phoenix

New Hampshire, USA

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First Edition: January 2026

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