Chapter Nineteen #3
“Uh, yeah. It’s just—it’s been a while,” I say and try to chuckle through the discomfort.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says, pulling his fingers from me.
“No, please don’t stop. I want this, just… just slow down maybe. It’s been a minute.” I don’t turn to look at him, not entirely sure why I’m embarrassed. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and then I feel him bend over me, laying his forehead on my back.
“How long?” His words are quiet, almost too quiet to hear over the crickets that haven’t let up. He presses two fingers back inside me. He must have added more lube because they’re cooler than before.
“November. Since the convention. Since… since you.” My words are stuttered, disjointed, as he finds my prostate and massages it methodically. This is no longer about getting me ready, he wants me to feel good, an apology of sorts for the pain.
I groan and let my head hang. I catch sight of my cock, backlit by the flashlight behind Seth. It hangs heavy and leaking between my legs, and all I want to do is reach down and stroke myself. It wouldn’t take me long, I’m ready to explode.
I feel his kiss through my shirt before he says, “You ready for more?”
“Please.” It comes out as a whine, desperate and a little pathetic, but I don’t care anymore. I need him to get on with it. “Please fuck me.”
“I don’t want to hurt you again,” he says, and the words resound through his chest into mine.
“I’m fine, please. Please, I want you inside me.” I’m begging for real now, and I know what it’s doing to him. He loves when I beg. We’ve played this game before. For hours, he’d edge me, reduce me to nothing but a teary, writhing mess, until I finally caved and begged.
But we’re not playing now. Now, I need him, to be close to him, to have him moving inside me, to hear the sounds he makes when he finally comes. I need it more than my next breath.
“Please,” I say again, finally turning back to look at him, and what a sight I find. He’s flushed, the flashlight making the angles of this face sharper. The heat in his eyes is an out-of-control inferno. He looks like he’s ready to devour me whole.
He grabs the condom and tears into the wrapper with his teeth, sheathing himself quickly. He opens the remaining lube sachet, squeezes out the contents, and covers his length with it, dropping the discarded foil by our feet.
Once he lines himself up with me, his eyes don’t leave mine as he says, “Relax for me.” That’s all the warning I get before I feel the pressure of his blunt head where his fingers just were, and then he’s pushing in. “Breathe through it, baby. I’m almost there.”
He keeps pushing in slowly, and the stretch burns, but I’m past the point of caring. He can take me apart piece by piece, and I’ll thank him just as long as he gets me off in the process.
His fingers dig into my hips as he stays still, his hips flush with my ass. He’s panting, struggling to contain himself.
“Are you okay?” he asks through gritted teeth. “Can I move?”
“Please.” Apparently, that’s the only word in my vocabulary at this point.
But I don’t care because it has the desired effect when he pulls back and then thrusts in again.
The friction of his cock gliding along my stretched rim is delicious and has my nerves singing, but it’s when he grazes along my prostate that I see stars.
And he knows when he finds the spot by the cry I let out; he continues the assault with each thrust. I feel each one like a pulse of electricity through my cock and down my legs, all the way to my toes.
I’m oversensitive; my nipples rub against my shirt, my necklaces slap against my chest, my hands dig into the bark of the tree I’m still holding, and it’s almost too much. Almost.
“West,” I whine. “I’m so close.”
“Me too, baby. Me too.” The woods fill with the sound of skin slapping skin as he pounds into me. I grunt and push back, meeting him thrust for thrust. I’ll be sure to feel this in the morning, and hiking with a sore asshole is going to be a bitch, but I sure as fuck am not stopping this now.
The small lantern lights only a narrow area around us, and for a minute my brain clears of all thought, and I forget where we are. Anything could be watching.
Well, I hope they like the show, my brain unhelpfully supplies.
Just then, a noise I’ve never heard before sounds from some distance to our left. I can’t tell if it’s an animal or a person grunting, low and guttural. We freeze and listen, but it doesn’t come again.
Slowly, Seth leans over me, his hands moving from my hips, one coming up to my chest, the other wrapping around my length. We stay like that, staring into the darkness around us, but aside from the chirps of the bugs and the breeze in the trees, it’s silent.
“Oh, shit,” I say, panting as Seth’s hand moves slowly, keeping my erection from flagging. “Think it’s Bigfoot?”
“Not. Fucking. Funny.” He punctuates each word with a thrust that has my balls drawing up. “Now be a good boy, and shut the fuck up. I need you to come, East.”
It only takes a few more of his vicious thrusts and the shuttling of his hand on my length, and bliss overwhelms my entire system.
Wave after wave of pleasure pulses through me, and my cock unloads onto the tree in front of me and the dirt beneath us.
He keeps moving inside me, chasing his own release, and the pleasure is so fierce I’m dizzy with it.
Just as my legs are about to give out from under me, Seth lets out a throaty groan, pushes himself as far as he can into me, and comes. His orgasm lasts and lasts, and I wish the condom wasn’t in the way so I could feel him filling me up.
As he comes down from the high, his mouth grazes the back of my neck, the day-old stubble biting my overheated skin. He presses his nose into my hair and inhales.
We’re both still catching our breath when he moves away and pulls out of me, robbing me of his warmth. My skin prickles in the early spring night air.
I turn just as he’s pulling up his pants and reaching in the back pocket.
“Of course you have baby wipes,” I say, incredulous when I see the travel pack in his hand but also feeling not at all shocked he’d be so practical so far from civilization.
“I picked them up at the gas station when we stopped this morning. Figured they’d come in handy.”
“I’ll say.” He pulls off the condom, ties the end, and drops it into a wipe before tucking himself away. He takes another wipe out of the pack and steps back to me. “It’s alright, I’ll take care of it,” I mumble.
“Turn around, Ripley.” His face is soft, but his tone is firm.
I don’t argue and face the tree again, feeling the rough bark beneath the pads of my fingers.
His hands are gentle as they spread my cheeks and run the wipe up and down my crease, cleaning up the lube.
He lays another precious kiss to my shoulder before stepping back again.
Leaning down, he pulls up my pants for me. The gesture is small, but it has tears pricking the backs of my eyes.
God, I’m pathetic. A good fuck and I’m ready to bawl like a baby.
He shuffles around behind me, and when I have myself under control, I turn around. He has the lantern in one hand and is holding out the flashlight to me in the other.
I grab it from him, but he doesn’t let go. “You okay, baby?” His question almost unravels me. I’m not sure my voice would work right now, so I just nod in response.
I think he can see right through whatever nonchalant expression I’m trying to project onto my face because he steps closer, places his warm palm to the side of my head, and brings me down so our foreheads touch.
His cerulean eyes are steady as they stare into mine.
The hand still gripping my face anchors me to him.
I’m grasping the flashlight with both hands like a lifeline. It’s shining down on our feet, the beam shaking; I’m pretty sure I’m trembling all over.
“That was so good, baby. You make me feel so fucking good. No one else makes me fall apart like that. It was perfect.” His words wash over me, warming me from my chest out to my extremities.
The reassurance in them, the confidence with which he says them, all help seal the cracks in my crumbling foundation. At least for a little while.
After a few more shared breaths, he steps away and takes my hand, leading us back the way we came.
“Wait, we need to grab the trash,” I say.
“Got it,” he says, tapping the lantern to his back pocket.
I’m not sure how long it takes us to get back to the campsite, but Cary and Brooks haven’t moved. There are fresh cans of beer in their hands as they sit and talk, not noticing us coming up behind them. We pause just outside the circle of light emitted by the crackling fire.
“You seem happier, settled,” Cary says, taking a sip.
Brooks doesn’t answer, just gives an indistinguishable grumble as his fingers play with the beer in his hands. His response is almost lost to the sounds of the crickets throughout the forest.
“I, umm,” Cary hedges. “I’m sorry.” Brooks looks up at him. In profile, I see his brows slant over his dark eyes.
“For what?”
“Well, for everything really. But mostly for trying to push you away from Margot. For inserting myself in general. You guys are good together, so I’m sorry I ever thought differently.”
Brooks looks over at Cary for a moment, his eyes searching his brother’s face as if determining if he can trust the words, and then we hear a quiet, “Thanks.”
“Mom and Dad fucked both of us up. Think we can try not doing that to each other?”
Brooks chuffs and takes a pull off the beer. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” They fall into a comfortable silence. Brooks glances over his shoulder at us but turns back to the fire.
I look at Seth, and he nods, reading my mind. We slip into our tent, leaving the brothers to their one-on-one time.
We don’t say a word as we pull off our shoes. Seth—like the fucking camping expert he apparently is—zips our sleeping bags together, and we climb in.
His arms wrap around me, his chest to my back, and I’m falling over the ledge into sleep when I hear him murmur, “So fucking perfect.”