22. Gil
CHAPTER 22
GIL
R owan looked perfect.
On his knees with a mouthful of cock and that bowtie loose around his neck. I wanted to choke him with it, gag him with it, anything to stop him from getting me off with that sinfully hot mouth of his. Because I knew that, sooner or later, Rowan was going to come clean about his date. Even if it wasn’t that night, it would be another night. I was on borrowed time with him, and it was nobody’s fault but my own.
“Give me your hands,” I rasped, grabbing both of his wrists in one hand above his head. Using his body, I walked us back to the wall, gritting my teeth at the way his eyes rolled back.
It was hard to believe sometimes I was the first man he’d been with because everything about Rowan was so perfectly made for being with another man. For being with me.
I found myself faced with the possibility that every time with Rowan could be the last time. And it was that fear that had me pulling my cock out of his mouth and replacing it with my fingers. It was that worry that had me stretching my hand toward the back of his throat until he choked up enough spit to make my fingers wet enough to get inside of him. Fisting the loose ends of his bowtie, I yanked him to his feet. He knew what to do, wrapping both of his legs around my waist.
I pressed Rowan against the wall, pressed two fingers into him, and dropped my forehead against his shoulder with a low groan. He shivered and whined, gyrating against the wall and fucking himself down onto my hand.
“Please,” he whimpered. “I’ve been waiting to come to you all night.”
“Come to me?” I asked, grazing my teeth across the side of his neck. “Or come for me.”
“It’s your cock,” he rasped.
I replaced my fingers with my dick, notching the spit-soaked tip against his hole before letting gravity do its work. Rowan’s asshole swallowed my cock as well as his mouth did, and I bared my teeth against his skin and bit him. Rowan moaned and flexed his thighs against my ribs.
“Mine,” I murmured, thrusting upward into the tight heat of his body.
“Yours, Gil.”
Long gone was the stuttering man who didn’t know what to say to me to get what he wanted. Rowan was far more confident of himself now than he’d been weeks before on the first day he showed up in my driveway, frantic and frazzled.
Something about the impermanence of Rowan’s presence in my life dropped a layer of urgency over the two of us, so I wasted no time reaching between our bodies. I yanked the bowtie off his neck and then took his cock into my fist. The patterned silk wrapped around his shaft, around my fingers, quickly getting wet from the precum I smeared over his length with every stroke. Rowan threw his head back, completely gone.
He was gone.
He’d be gone.
Soon.
“Is it still safe to come inside of you, Rowan?” I licked my way from his neck to his jaw to his ear. “I want to pump my load so deep into your ass you’ll be dripping me out for days.”
The sound that left his mouth was decadent, and it had me quickening the pace of not just my hips, but my hand. We’d barely gotten into the house before Rowan had made it clear what he wanted. Made it clear the one thing I was good for. His hands had moved for my waist like they had a home there, and foolishly I’d enjoyed the feel of him. He’d asked to suck my cock and I’d let him, the vision of his cherry red face and watery eyes forever emblazoned in my mind.
Long after Rowan—and Fisher—were gone, I’d still think of him.
I’d remember how close I’d come to having it all.
Rowan’s body burned as his muscles tensed. His cock thickened in my hand, pulsing as he emptied onto his pretty little bowtie. The grip of his hole was like a vise, and it wasn’t long before I followed after him. Jets of cum shot deep into his hole, and I fucked him so hard against the wall I worried his shoulder blades would dent the drywall. I cried out as I came, my cock so thick and hot it hurt to release. And it was Rowan’s gentle hands at the small of my back that brought me back to myself.
“You possess me,” I murmured against his ear, slowly lowering him down to the ground. His legs trembled, and I spun him quickly, pressing his chest against the wall and sinking to my knees behind him. I spread his cheeks apart with one hand and used his soiled bowtie to mop up the first drips of cum that leaked out of his well-fucked hole.
“Gil. Jesus.” He thumped his forehead against the wall, and I used his tie and my tongue to clean him up. I know I’d threatened to shove the tie into his mouth, but I slipped it into my pocket instead. I didn’t know if he noticed and I didn’t really care. He was naked and I was still half-dressed, and it felt like the most appropriate metaphor for whatever this thing between us was turning into. Rowan, always eager and bare, not even realizing what he’d gotten himself into with me. And me, half-dressed, half-guarded…
I hooked my arm around Rowan’s waist and pulled him down. His ass landed in my lap the same time my ass hit the floor, and the way he tucked his smaller body in against mine was everything I’d never known I wanted. Philip had never been a cuddler, and it wasn’t until the first night I’d woken up with Rowan beside me, our legs tangled together, that I’d realized how much I wanted that kind of physical contact.
“Where’s my bowtie?” Rowan asked, tracing a swirl over the top of my wrist with his fingertip.
“Around here somewhere.”
He hummed.
“You should probably get home soon,” I said, swallowing hard and trying to find the strength to get him off of me and out the door.
“I have some time,” he answered back. “It’s early and Fisher is asleep.”
I wanted to tell him I sincerely doubted his son was asleep, but I bit it back. Rowan was the single parent and I was the one who’d never wanted kids. It was hardly my place to let him in on the things I’d noticed about his son.
Rowan shifted on my lap, stretching his naked body out on top of me like a cat. He yawned and stretched, and I let myself curl my hands around his waist. He fit so perfectly against every part of my body, it was impossible to ignore.
I didn’t want to ignore it.
“Did you have company?” he asked, spine going rigid against my chest.
“Hmn?”
He pointed toward the coffee table, to Philip’s gear that I’d never bothered to put away after our ride earlier in the evening.
“Your son was here again,” I answered, shifting his weight on my lap.
“I’ll tell him to stop bothering you so much.”
He hadn’t meant for the comment to hurt, but it cut me open just the same. I’d made it very clear to everyone in my life, to Philip, to Jack, and most recently to Rowan, what I thought about kids. And yet…Fisher was far from a bother.
“He’s fine,” I said softly. “Came by before dinner and asked for a ride.”
Rowan’s body went taut, and he shifted around on my lap so he could see my face. He was still flushed from the sex, his hair frazzled and the smallest beads of sweat that hadn’t even had time to dry yet on his temple.
“It doesn’t look like you told him no.”
“I took him through town and brought him home.” I bit the inside of my cheek. “Then he went home and got himself a pizza since you were on a date.”
He scrambled off my lap like I’d bit him, and not in a sexy way.
“We never agreed that you could take him on your bike,” he said.
I scoffed, the corner of my eye twitching hard enough to make my scar ache. “That’s the part you’re choosing to focus on? Alright, Row.”
Rowan managed to get himself dressed in near record time, but I was slow to my feet. I hiked my pants up back around my waist, not bothering with the zipper.
“We just made a lap of the town and I brought him back.”
“We had talked about a ride to school. Around the block or something. And that was a strong maybe , not a yes.”
I scratched the back of my neck, debating if I wanted to give him back his bowtie or not. It burned a hole in my pocket, but I kept it there as he fumbled his way up the buttons of his shirt. I hadn’t even bothered to look too hard at him upon his arrival, but Rowan had definitely dressed up for his date. He looked well and properly fucked now, though, and I smirked at the sight of him trying to tuck the tails of his shirt back into his pants.
“I kept it slow, Rowan. Jesus, you’re being a little ridiculous right now.”
“He’s my son!” Rowan raised his voice, stabbing a finger into the middle of my chest. “He’s my son, and he’s all I have.”
Fisher was all Rowan had because he definitely didn’t have me. That was the quiet part that neither of us needed to say.
“It won’t happen again.”
“I know it won’t.”
Clearing my throat, I gestured to the front door. “You can go now.”
He moved like he was going to do just that, but caught himself before his foot even hit the floor.
“No, I can’t,” he said.
“I assure you that you can.” To demonstrate, I went to the door myself, and I opened it for him. The night air was getting far too crisp for comfort, and I dreaded the onset of fall into winter when it would be too cold to go out for a ride anymore. My bike was the fastest way for me to clear my head, and I hated not having that release available.
“I don’t do well with arguments,” he explained.
“Then don’t start them.”
He opened his mouth, eyes wide and bordering on angry, then he frowned and scrubbed a hand down his face. He almost wiped the expression clean, but the deep lines around the corners of his eyes were still there. At least… I could see them.
“He is my son,” Rowan repeated. “And you are…you are…”
“I’m just a man who fucks you, Rowan,” I said with a nod. “I know my place here.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“But it’s the truth. Isn’t it? You’re a single dad and I’m just the guy around the block you found to pop your cherry.”
“I’m trying to not argue with you,” he said. “I don’t want to leave angry.”
“I’m not angry,” I told him, and it was the truth.
I was resigned.
“Gil.”
“This was a good wake-up call for both of us, don’t you think?” I needed him to leave before I said something I couldn’t take back. Before I told him that I liked him and that I didn’t hate his son, and I wanted him to have a place in my bed whenever he wanted. I reached for him and pulled him near, closed the space between us until he was against my chest and his arms were around my waist. Maybe it was muscle memory. I kissed the top of his head and let out a breath, ruffling his hair.
“Yeah,” he agreed, voice weak. “A wake-up call.”
Maybe I’d been right to fuck him the way I had, to take him like it was going to be the last time. Because there in front of my door, the night air blowing around us, I thought I might have been right. Rowan was hesitant to go, though. I could feel it in the way his body swayed toward mine, even through his anger.
“Hey.” I knocked my chin into the side of his head gently. “You never asked me about the accident where I got my scar.”
Rowan tilted his head back, the flush in his cheeks gone, but his eyes now damp and ringed red.
“Tell me about the accident where you got your scar,” he whispered.
I smiled and dipped down to kiss him, the softest brush of my lips against the corner of his mouth. I hope he saw my question for the olive branch it was meant to be.
“It’s getting late, Rowan.” I kissed him again, again, again. “I’ll tell you another time, alright?”
He licked his lips, pressing his fingers against the last place I’d kissed him.
“Alright,” he agreed. “Another time.”