Observing Finn in Sunlight
# Rooted Desire The afternoon sun spilled molten gold across the garden, and Finn was at the centre of it, a raw, glistening figure of heat and muscle. Maya stood just inside the back door, the cool shadow of the house clinging to her skin
Chapter 1
The afternoon sun spilled molten gold across the garden, and Finn was at the centre of it, a raw, glistening figure of heat and muscle. Maya stood just inside the back door, the cool shadow of the house clinging to her skin, a sharp contrast to the radiant blaze where he worked. She was supposed to be fetching a glass of lemonade; instead, she’d become a statue, her fingers frozen on the doorframe.
He was shirtless. That was the first and most overwhelming fact. The ladder-back chair he was sanding down barely registered; it was just a prop. Her eyes traced the broad planes of his back, a landscape of tanned skin mapped with the dark ink of tattoos that twisted over his shoulder blades and down his spine. Sweat traced a slow rivulet along the deep furrow of muscle, and droplets clung to the thatch of hair across his chest, sparkling like tiny diamonds. When he leaned forward, the chains around his neck swung, the metal glinting, and a low grunt of effort vibrated through the air, a sound that coiled low in her belly. A faded scar, silvery against his ribs, caught the light as he stretched. He caught her staring, a slow, knowing grin spreading through his beard. His eyes, crinkled at the corners, held a playful, patient fire. “You're letting the cold air out, little leaf. Either bring the drinks, or come divide and conquer this garden with me.”
The nickname made her flush. She took a stuttering step forward, the sunscreen-sweet scent of her own skin mixing with the earthy musk of his sweat. “I was, um, just thinking…”
“Ah. Thinking.” Finn straightened, dropping the sandpaper to the grass. He planted his hands on his hips, the posture pulling the skin taut over his stomach, and a subtle piece of metal—a nipple ring—caught the sun. “Thinking about taking over the DIY, maybe? Because I distinctly remember a different assignment for you this weekend.” His voice was a warm, low rumble, a cat’s purr that vibrated right through her. “We made a deal, didn't we? If you want something, you find the words. No more waiting in the doorway with those bottomless brown eyes, hoping I’ll read your mind.”
Maya’s full lips parted, the ring in her lower lip cool against her flushed skin. The words he was asking for were a tangle at the back of her throat. *I want to touch you. I want to lick the salt off your chest. I want to climb you like one of these damn trees.* But a lifetime of shyness, of letting others take the lead, wrapped her tongue in cotton. She watched a single bead of sweat break from his hairline—silver strands mingling with the dark—and trace a lazy path down the side of his face, losing itself in his beard. Her own fingers twitched, aching to follow its road.
He stepped closer, not touching her, but the space between them became a living thing, thick with the promise of his heat. She could feel the humidity radiating off him, smell the honest, male scent of him: cedarwood soap and hard work. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper meant just for her, though they were alone. “Use your words, Maya. Tell me where your mind went just now. Was it here?” His knuckle, rough and calloused, didn't graze her skin, but hovered a breath away from her collarbone, tracing the invisible line of a tattoo that curled over her shoulder. “Or here?” His gaze drifted down, a purely playful, adoring challenge, to the curve of her hip wrapped in a light sundress. “This is a safe space for all your wild, shy, perfectly playful thoughts. I want to hear every single one. Whatever you say, you'll be met with a eager, *yes ma'am* or a very careful, *hmm, show me*.” He winked, the steel in his tongue piercing clicking softly against his teeth with his laughter.
Her heart slammed against her ribs, a frantic drum. He was handing her the key, daring her to unlock the very same fierce, confident hunger she saw in him. The tender love in his eyes, the way he was utterly dedicated to her confidence, was more intoxicating than any daemon in her inexperience. It promised safety and blazing heat in equal measure. She swayed forward, her fingers lifting, not yet touching, to hover over the steady thump of his heart, so close she could feel its beat echoing in her palm. The silence stretched, full of electric, unspoken possibilities. Her first move, her first word, was a story waiting to begin.
Chapter 2
The silence stretched between them, thick as honey in the late afternoon heat. Maya’s fingers still hovered over his chest, close enough to feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, not yet close enough to touch. Finn didn’t move. He simply waited, his eyes soft and patient, the playful edge of his grin softening into something deeper, more tender.
“I was thinking,” she finally whispered, the words barely louder than the distant buzz of bees in the lavender, “that you look like you’ve been working so hard. And I wondered if maybe you’d want some help. With the garden, I mean.”
Finn tilted his head, a low chuckle rumbling through him. “Is that what those bottomless brown eyes were saying? Because from where I’m standing, little leaf, your mind was nowhere near the flower beds.”
Maya’s cheeks burned. She dropped her gaze to the grass, but Finn reached out and lifted her chin with one warm, calloused finger. “Hey. No hiding. I’m not teasing to embarrass you. I’m teasing because I like watching you squirm. There’s a difference.”
“I know,” she admitted, her voice small. “It’s just hard. Saying it out loud.”
“Then practice with something small.” He let his hand fall away, giving her space. “Tell me one thing you wanted to do just now. One tiny, shy, perfectly wicked little thing. Start there.”
Maya pressed her lips together, the little silver ring cool against the heat of her skin. She drew a shaky breath, then forced herself to meet his eyes. “I wanted to touch the sweat on your chest. Just… trace it with my fingers. See if it feels warm or cool.”
Finn’s eyes darkened, though his smile stayed gentle. “That’s a beautiful start,” he said, his voice a low, private murmur. “Go on. Show me.”
Her hand trembled, but she closed the distance at last, pressing her fingertips flat against his sternum. His skin was hot, furnace-hot, and damp with honest work. She traced the dark hair there, following the path she’d imagined, and felt the solid thunder of his heart pick up under her palm. A small, wondering smile tugged at her lips.
“There you are,” he breathed. “That’s my brave girl.”
He didn’t move to take over. He just stood there, letting her explore, the sun painting his shoulders in gold as her fingers drifted lower, learning the shape of him one slow touch at a time.
Chapter 3
Maya's fingers stilled on his chest, her touch no longer trembling but curious, deliberate. She traced the dark ink of a tattoo that curled over his pectoral muscle, following its shape down toward his ribs.
"Tell me what you're thinking now," Finn murmured, his voice a low rumble she could feel through her fingertips. "You've got that look again."
"What look?" she asked, though she knew exactly what he meant.
"The one where your brain is running three steps ahead of your mouth." He caught her wrist gently, not to stop her, but to hold her there, grounding her. "Slow down. There's no rush, little leaf. We've got all afternoon."
Maya exhaled, a shaky laugh escaping her. "I was thinking about the scar. On your ribs. How did you get it?"
Finn glanced down, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. "That's what you want to know right now? With your hand on my chest and the sun going down?"
"Yes," she said, and this time her voice didn't waver. "I want to know all of you. Every piece."
He was quiet for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Fell out of a tree when I was twelve. Trying to rescue a cat that didn't want rescuing. Stupid, really."
"I don't think it's stupid." Maya let her fingers drift to the scar, tracing its silvery line with reverent softness. "It's kind."
Finn's throat bobbed. "You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Being braver than you know." He released her wrist and cupped her face instead, his thumb brushing the corner of her full lips, just beside the little silver ring. "Now tell me something else. Something you want right now. Not what you think I want to hear. What *you* want."
Maya closed her eyes, let the question settle. When she opened them again, she met his gaze squarely. "I want to keep touching you. Everywhere I haven't yet. But I want to go slow. I want to learn you by heart."
Finn's smile was slow and warm, spreading through his beard like sunrise. "Then take your time, little leaf. I'm not going anywhere."
She stepped closer, closing the last sliver of space between them, and let her hands begin their patient exploration once more.
Chapter 4
Maya's hands moved lower, tracing the waistband of his jeans where sweat had darkened the denim. Her fingers paused at the button, hovering there with a question she didn't yet know how to voice.
"Say it," Finn murmured, his voice rough as gravel. "I'm not going to guess for you, little leaf."
She looked up at him through her lashes, her lower lip caught between her teeth, the little silver ring pressing into her skin. "I want to see all of you. Not just your chest."
"Then unbutton me."
The simple permission sent a shiver down her spine. Her fingers trembled as she worked the metal button free, then the zipper, each tooth separating with a sound that felt impossibly loud in the quiet garden. Finn didn't rush her. He stood still as stone, his breathing deep and even, watching her with that patient, hungry focus that made her feel like the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.
When she finally pushed the denim down his hips, his cock sprung free, already hard, already slick at the tip. Maya stared, her mouth going dry. She'd imagined this so many times, late at night with her hand between her thighs, but the reality of him was so much more. Thick. Veined. The dark hair at his base trailing upward to his navel.
"Fuck," she whispered, the word slipping out before she could stop it.
Finn laughed, low and warm. "There she is. My shy girl with a dirty mouth."
She reached out and wrapped her fingers around him, marveling at the heat, the weight, the way he twitched in her palm. A ragged sound escaped his throat, and the power of it flooded through her, making her bolder. She stroked him slowly, watching his face, learning the rhythm that made his jaw clench and his eyes flutter half-shut.
"You're good at that," he breathed. "Too good. But I want more than your hand, Maya."
"Then show me what you want."
Finn's eyes snapped open, dark and blazing. He caught her wrist again, but this time he didn't stop her. He guided her hand, tightening her grip, quickening the pace until his hips bucked forward of their own accord. A low, desperate moan tore from his chest, and the sound coiled hot and tight in Maya's belly.
"Faster," he growled. "Just like that. Don't stop."
She didn't. She watched him come apart under her touch, his breath ragged, sweat beading anew on his brow, his hands gripping her shoulders like she was the only solid thing left in the world. The tension built between them, thick and electric, and Maya felt herself growing wet, aching, desperate for more.
But not yet. Not until he taught her every way to make him tremble.
Chapter 5
The kitchen was cooler than the garden, but Maya felt feverish as Finn guided her backward against the counter. His jeans were still pooled around his ankles, and she couldn't stop staring at him—thick and hard and glistening where her hand had worked him moments before.
"You're looking at me like you want to devour me," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her chest. "Say it, little leaf. What do you want now?"
Maya swallowed hard. Her mouth was dry, but her thighs were wet, slick with the ache that had been building since she'd first seen him shirtless in the sun. "I want to taste you."
Finn's eyes went dark, his pupils swallowing the warm brown of his irises. "Fuck, Maya." He cupped her jaw, his thumb brushing her lower lip, tracing the silver ring there. "You sure? You don't have to—"
"I'm sure." She surprised herself with how steady her voice sounded. "I've thought about it. Late at night. What you'd feel like on my tongue."
A ragged groan escaped him. He didn't say anything else—just stepped closer, one hand still cradling her face while the other wrapped around the base of his cock, guiding it toward her parted lips.
She took him in slowly, her tongue flattening against the underside as she learned the taste of him: salt and skin and a faint bitterness she'd only read about before now. He was heavier than she'd imagined, thicker, stretching her jaw in a way that made her ache between her thighs.
"That's it," he breathed, his fingers threading into her hair. "Just like that. Go slow."
She did. She explored him with patient curiosity—the ridge beneath the head that made his hips stutter when she flicked her tongue there, the vein that pulsed against her lips, the way he filled her mouth so completely she couldn't breathe without gasping around him.
"Look at me," Finn murmured.
She lifted her eyes, still taking him as deep as she could manage, and found him watching her with raw adoration.
"My brave girl," he whispered.
Chapter 6
Finn's hand tightened in Maya's hair, not pulling, just anchoring. His breath came in rough, uneven bursts, and the muscles of his stomach clenched under her palm where she'd braced herself against him.
"Maya…" Her name was a ragged prayer. "I'm close. You feel that? Feel how hard I am for you?"
She hummed around him, and the vibration tore a broken curse from his chest. His hips gave a shallow, involuntary thrust—restrained, still careful,
Chapter 7
Finn’s grip in her hair tightened, a silent, desperate plea. “Maya… sweetheart, I’m right there. Tell me you want this. Tell me you’re ready to take all of me.” His voice was a raw, unraveling rasp, the command cracking open with need.
She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her lips slick and swollen, her cheeks flushed with a courage she’d never known she owned. “I want it, Finn. I want to feel you come in my mouth. I want to taste every bit of you.” The words, once locked behind shyness, now flowed free, emboldened by the trust blazing in his eyes. She pressed a soft, deliberate kiss to the leaking tip of his cock, and his whole body shuddered.
“Then take it,” he groaned, his hips giving a shallow, involuntary rock toward her heat. “Let me see those brown eyes when I fall apart.”
She opened for him, taking him deep, her tongue cradling the velvet-heavy underside. His breath shattered. The ladder-back chair groaned under his white-knuckled grip. She hummed around his length, and the vibration pulled a broken cry from his chest. “Maya— I can’t— I’m—”
His warning dissolved into a ragged, wordless shout. Hot, thick pulses flooded her mouth, salt-bitter and vital, and she swallowed, drawing every shudder from him with gentle, persistent suction. His knees buckled, the chains around his neck clinking as he braced himself, lost to the waves crashing through him. She held him steady, her palm pressed flat to his trembling thigh, feeling the muscle knot and release.
When he finally stilled, she eased back, wiping her swollen lip with the back of her hand, a shy, fierce triumph glinting in her gaze. Finn hauled her up into his arms, still shaking, and buried his face in the curve of her neck. “Christ, Maya. Look at you.” He cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. “So brave. So damn perfect. How do you feel?”
She nestled closer, her heart hammering against his sweat-damp chest. “Like I finally said exactly what I wanted,” she whispered.
His laughter was a warm, spent rumble against her skin, and he held her tighter, their bodies swaying in the golden afternoon light.