Chapter 22 #2
Reaching for the nightstand, I again fumble for the condom and lube. My hands are shaking slightly, which is annoying. We've done this before. Multiple times. There's no reason for nerves.
Except he's leaving tomorrow and won't be back for three days, and this is the last time I'll get to touch him until—
"Give me that." Caleb snatches the condom from my fumbling fingers. "You're hopeless." He tears the packet open with his teeth.
"I was getting it on just —"
The rest of the sentence dies in my throat as he slowly rolls it down my cock, maintaining eye contact the entire time.
My vision whites out for a second, and I’m pretty sure my eyes actually cross.
"See?" His voice is smug despite the fact that he's the one flat on his back, flushed and wanting. "Not difficult."
"You're—" My voice comes out strangled. "That was—"
"Get inside me," he says, a bossy bottom even now. "Right now."
"Not until—"
"James, I swear to God—"
Grabbing the lube, coating my fingers. "You'll thank me in a minute." He always wants to rush the prep, but that’s just not happening.
"I'll thank you when you're actually fucking me instead of—oh—"
The complaint dissolves into a moan as I press one slick finger inside him. He's hot and tight, and the way he pushes back against my hand makes my cock throb.
Working him open slowly, I add a second finger, then a third. He's writhing beneath me now, alternating between demanding more and cursing my existence. When I bend my fingers and find his nerve bundle, his whole body jerks.
"There, fuck, right there—"
Keeping the pressure steady while my other hand wraps around his cock again, I stroke in time with the fingers pressing inside him. His breathing gets ragged again, thighs shaking, right on the edge—
And I stop. Again. Gripping the base of his cock hard enough to keep him from coming.
"I HATE YOU!" He actually yells it, hands flying to his cock to finish himself off.
Catching both his wrists in one hand, I twist up and pin them above his head. "Not yet."
"James, I swear—"
I reach down with my free hand and line myself up, the head of my cock pressing against him. His eyes go wide.
"Wait—"
One hard thrust and I'm buried completely inside him, bottoming out in a single stroke.
The sound he makes is inhuman. Somewhere between a scream and a howl, his whole body goes rigid beneath me.
I freeze. "Shit, are you— Did I hurt—"
"Don't. Move." His voice is shaky, his eyes squeezed shut. "You feel fucking amazing. Just… Just... give me a second."
Holding perfectly still, even though every muscle in my body is screaming to move. He's so tight around me it's almost painful, hot and perfect and—
Not helping.
His breathing slowly evens out. His body relaxes slowly, tension bleeding from his shoulders. When his eyes open, they're dark and wild.
"Okay," he breathes. "Okay, you can—"
Not waiting for him to finish. I pull almost all the way out and slam back in, setting a brutal pace that has him gasping with each thrust. His hands are still pinned above his head, his body completely at my mercy as I take him hard and fast.
"Fuck, James, yes, like that—"
I shift the angle slightly, hitting a place deep inside that makes him cry out. His cock is trapped between us, getting friction with every thrust, and from the desperate noises he's making, he's close again.
"Come on," I growl against his neck. "Let me see you come."
Three more thrusts and he does, his whole body seizing as he spills between us, painting both our stomachs with his cum. The way he clenches around me is almost too much.
As soon as he can speak again, his hands break free from my grip and grab my hips, pulling me deeper. "Use me," he says, voice wrecked. "I'm your fuck hole tonight. Just take what you need."
His dirty words hit me like a fucking hammer to the forehead. My vision actually goes dark at the edges, everything narrowing to this, him beneath me, urging me on.
"Caleb—"
"Do it. Fuck me, and come in me."
Three more erratic thrusts and I'm gone, my orgasm hitting so hard my arms nearly give out. Only his hands on my hips keep me from collapsing completely as I empty myself inside him, riding out the aftershocks.
When I can think again, I'm sprawled half on top of him, both of us sticky and breathing hard. His hand is in my hair, gentle now, fingers carding through it.
"That was—" he starts.
"Yeah."
"Three days is too long."
Fuck. There it is, that feeling again. "Yeah."
We lie in silence, the sounds from the movie downstairs filtering up through the floorboards. Someone's laughing too loudly and then getting shushed. The world continues as if we didn't completely wreck each other.
"I should clean up," he says eventually, making no move to actually do so.
"In a minute."
His arms tighten around me. "Yeah. In a minute."
We stay like that, tangled together. I don't want to be the first to let go. Because tomorrow he leaves, and I'll be here, and three days suddenly sounds like fucking forever.
"I should go back to packing," he murmurs after a while, making no move to leave.
"Don't." My arms tighten around him. "One more minute."
He falls asleep before that minute is up, his breathing evening out as his body relaxes completely against mine. I stay awake, watching him sleep, memorizing how his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks and how his usual guarded expression disappears when he sleeps.
The thought of him leaving tomorrow lodges like a stone low in my gut. It's only three days, I remind myself. Not even a whole week. Nothing to worry about.
So why does it feel like something bad is going to happen?
Because it probably is. Everyone leaves…
I push the thought away, focusing instead on the present, his weight in my arms, the rhythm of his breathing. Whatever comes next, we'll figure it out together. Even if we haven't said exactly what it will be, this thing between us is stronger than a few days apart.
It is… Shut the fuck up, brain…