Chapter 34 #2
I laugh, and he slips in a little more from the movement, my laughter morphing into a mewl-like noise. “Keep going,” I say again, more demanding this time.
“Yes, sir,” Ripley says, and my cock twitches in response.
He finally moves, thrusting in and out slowly. I press my face into the sheets, smothering the wanton sounds coming out of me. I lean down farther, arching my back to push into him, needing to be as close as possible.
“Harder,” I grit out, wanting more from him. “I can take it.”
“Holy fuck,” Ripley groans, not listening to me as he runs a hand down my back. “Where have you been hiding this sexy-as-fuck version of yourself? Where did the nerd I know and love go?”
I turn my face, catching his gaze from the corner of my eye. “I—” Fuck. “I hate you. And don’t ignore me, I said harder.”
He laughs then pulls out of me. I peer over my shoulder, getting a better look at him. I’m just about to complain when he says, “Flip over, I want to see you,” as he strokes his own cock.
Heat rushes up my chest and neck to my cheeks at his request, my irritation disappearing. We’ve fucked face to face before, but this is different. I was in control when it happened the other times. I was telling him what to do.
I flip onto my back, keeping my eyes on his steady strokes the whole time.
“Move up some,” he tells me as he kneels on the bed and crawls toward me.
He wasn’t wrong about it being hot as fuck.
The muscles in his back contract and release with his movements, and I almost comment on it, throw some kind of teasing words his way, but they get stuck in my throat as he wraps his lips around my dick.
Indistinguishable words tumble out of me as he runs his tongue over my slit, lapping up the precum then taking me back as far as he can go. I bring my hands to his head, seconds from pulling him off so I don’t come, but he pops off before I can.
“You’re still okay?” he asks with a grin as he licks his lips in anticipation.
“Yes,” I mutter as my heart begins to race again. He grabs my legs, pushing my knees up toward my chest but not enough to be uncomfortable. Stroking his cock once, twice, three times with some added lube, he lines himself up then looks at me once more. I give a subtle nod.
As he pushes in, I realize this angle is incredible, no wonder Ripley likes it when I fuck him this way. The feeling of fullness is almost overwhelming. I let my head fall back on the pillows as he starts to pound into me the way I asked.
Ripley only gives me a moment before he’s linking his fingers with mine and leaning in to kiss me. In all the times we’ve been in this position with me on top, I’ve never been as gentle as he’s being now; I’ve never shown him love in this way.
Without warning, a tear slips down my cheek. “I love you,” I whisper into the space between us, happy for the first time in a long time.
“I love you too, baby.” He crashes his lips into mine again, more force this time, then lets go of one of my hands to reach down to my dick. “Let’s see if I can make you come like this,” he snickers, wrapping his hand around my length as he thrusts in and out of me.
This may be too much. I feel about three seconds away from coming. “You need to come. Now,” I command.
“Shit, okay,” he grits out, slamming into me even harder now. He spits into his palm, then wraps his hand around me again.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Ripley,” I moan as my orgasm barrels into me, coating his hand and my chest.
“God, that was hot,” he whines, bringing his hand to his lips and licking my release off of each finger.
His movements quicken, and I link one of our hands back together, pulling him down to taste myself on him. I groan as his tongue slips into my mouth.
I feel the moment he falls over the edge of his climax. Kissing down his neck, I squeeze his fingers in mine as he comes down.
His head falls to my chest, and we’re both breathing heavily. The room is scorching and smells like sex. I thread my fingers through his hair before leaning down to kiss the crown of his head.
Seconds, minutes, or maybe even a lifetime later, he mumbles into my chest, “Please tell me this wasn’t a one-time thing; it was too fucking good to be a single occurrence.”
A laugh rumbles through me, bouncing his head in the process. Continuing to run my hands through his hair, I tell him, “No, baby. Not a one time thing.”
“Thank fuck.”
“Not all the time though, I still like fucking you way more,” I admit.
“Totally fine. I just want to flip fuck sometimes.” He slaps my chest then pushes up off of me, slowly pulling out. “We… should probably clean up,” he says. “And maybe change the sheets,” he adds as he looks around at the rumpled mess of the bed and my cum-covered chest.
Laughing, I say, “Yeah, you kind of made a mess.”
Ripley’s mouth drops open in shock. “Me?”
I chuckle as I push up to meet his lips again. “Shower first, then you can help me change the bedding. Then we sleep. I’m fucking tired.”
“Mhmm,” he agrees. “You wore me the fuck out.”
“As if you didn’t ask for it,” I say, rolling my eyes at him.
Despite Ripley wearing me out, I still woke up before seven.
I didn’t go for my usual run, but I did manage to sneak out to grab coffee from my favorite café and swing by the grocery store.
Living downtown means I have an abundance of coffee options within walking distance, some closer than others, but if I have the time, I always walk to the one a little farther away.
For once, the commotion of the city irks me.
Multiple people run into me without realizing it, everyone seems to be in a rush, there’s no stupid town square where people stop to chat.
The realization makes me miss Indigo Hill.
I even miss Grayce’s coffee, albeit the café I’m heading to has—undoubtedly—better coffee.
There’s something about the small coffee shop I’ve grown to adore.
As I dodge another person walking out of the café in question, I take a deep breath, not allowing it to annoy me or steal my joy for the day.
Once I’m at the counter and ordering, it hits me why I miss Grayce’s or why I’d choose it over this place even if the coffee is sub-par.
Indigo Hill, Grayce’s, Ripley’s house, they all feel like home.
I walk into Grayce’s and I don’t need to order or tell them my name, they already know me.
Wow. I actually love the little shit town.
Ripley, of course, isn’t awake when I get back.
I place his iced Americano in the fridge and grab the eggs.
I figure if I’m waking him up early, I’ll need some kind of bribe, and a bacon, egg, and cheese omelet plus the coffee felt like it would do the trick.
Fingers crossed it works, I need him in a good mood.
Right as I flip his omelet, Ripley surprises me and all of Seattle as he strolls out of my room in only his boxer briefs stretching his arms over his head.
“Do I smell bacon?” he mumbles through a yawn, squinting his eyes toward me.
“I’m making you breakfast. And I have a coffee from my favorite spot in the fridge for you,” I tell him.
“Damn, can I expect this kind of princess treatment every time I fuck you?” he asks, dropping a kiss to the back of my neck as he walks past me to grab his coffee.
I pull the kitchen towel from my shoulder, lightly whipping it toward his ass. It barely touches him, and his dramatic yelp melds into laughter as his mouth gapes open.
“That,” he points toward the towel, “was not very nice.” He tries to sound stern, but laughter is still bubbling out of him.
“I never claimed to be nice,” I say with a devilish smirk.
He walks around the bar, and I slide the plate with his omelet over to him, extra bacon on the side. He does a little happy dance at the sight of it, and I’m once again hit with an overwhelming wave of fondness for him.
“So, listen…” I say as I pour egg whites into the pan for my own omelet. “I was thinking, I’d really like to tell my mom.”
Ripley makes some kind of choking noise. I look over my shoulder to find him covering his mouth and holding up a finger.
“Shit. Sorry,” he mumbles through a mouth full of food. “I just—wasn’t expecting that. I’m good now.”
“You sure?” I ask, and he nods. “I almost told her before, but…” I trail off, hating how much of a coward I’ve been. Letting out a deep breath, I continue, “It’s time now. And I was hoping you’d be there.”
Ripley beams, and I realize I haven’t been clear enough. “Not like there there, but on video call. With me. She doesn’t live in Seattle.”
Ripley quickly wipes at his mouth with his napkin, crumbs falling into his lap. “Yes. Oh my God, yes. I’d love to meet her.”
Turning back to the stove, I flip my omelet, a stupid grin on my face. “Cool.” I focus on the sizzling in the pan, enjoying this moment for what it is.
I’ve sweated through my shirt already, and the phone just started ringing. We waited until ten to call, and I told Ripley to just sit beside me off camera until I speak with her, then he can officially meet her.
On the second ring, Ripley pulls my hand into his, lacing our fingers together, an immediate balm to my nerves.
“Seth, my love,” my mom greets me as her face fills the screen. She’s mid-crochet, phone propped up on something on her coffee table. “Is everything okay?”
I never make spontaneous phone calls to her. And I certainly never call this early, I’m usually at work at this time.
“Hey, Ma. Everything is fine. I just wanted to talk to you.”
My stomach drops at the way her face lights up. I haven’t been the best son to her. I shouldn’t need a reason or a plan to call her. Ripley must notice because he gives my hand a comforting squeeze.
“Oh, baby. You just made my whole day! The women in my garden club will be so jealous,” she preens.
I huff a laugh, sometimes I forget how much I love this woman. “You just want to cause drama,” I tease.
“I very much do. I never have anything juicy to tell them. It’s always about Carla and whatever new man she’s dating.
And let me tell you, the list is long.” She points her crochet hook at me.
“Or Gladys going on and on about her daughter-in-law as if the girl sets the sun and hangs the moon.” She shakes her head with a huff before adding, “I, for one, don’t care for the girl. ”
I’ve heard all about all the garden club gossip, she makes sure to tell me anytime something new happens. She may even keep a list so she doesn’t forget hot topics for our weekly call.
Ripley hides a laugh, covering his face with his free hand. I knew he’d love her. Admittedly, I’m a little terrified for them to meet in person; they’ll be truly insufferable together.
“Well, I uhh… I may have something else for you to tell them. Maybe. I mean, I hope it’s the good kind of gossip or at least not bad. I—” I cut myself off, realizing I’m rambling like an idiot as my anxiety bubbles over.
She places the yarn and hook down on the table, giving me her full attention. “Okay…” she says hesitantly. I’ve probably scared her. She could be thinking the absolute worst right now.
I rip off the Band-Aid, not giving myself anymore time to question my decision. “I’m gay.”
Her eyes widen for a second and then soften, and her shoulders drop as if whatever apprehension I caused vanishes.
“Oh, Seth,” she says, bringing her hand to her heart. “I’ve been waiting for this day. I’m so proud of you.”
Her words hurtle into my heart, knocking every ounce of terror out of the way. “I—what? You knew?”
“Sweetheart, of course I knew. I’m your mother. I’ve just been waiting until you felt comfortable enough to tell me.”
Her soft smile brings tears to my eyes. I knew she wouldn’t hate me.
I figured she’d even be okay with it, but I still thought she’d be sad.
I’ve heard so many horror stories of parents being upset about grandchildren or traditional values, I knew it was a possibility.
Plus my own father will disown me once he finds out.
“And,” she continues, “I will be telling every soul who will listen how amazing and brave you are. How much I love you and how proud I am of you for being your true self in this cruel world.”
A small sob escapes me as I wipe at my eyes, catching the tears as they fall. “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I should have told you sooner. I kept trying to, but I never could.”
“I had a feeling you almost told me a few weeks ago when you called out of the blue.”
A laugh breaks through the tears because looking back, I realize how obvious the phone call must have been to her.
“But the last thing you need to do, the last thing I want you to do is apologize. Not to me and certainly not to anyone else. You don’t owe anyone an apology. You, my love, are the most beautiful soul. I’m just so happy you shared this piece of yourself with me.”
I’m almost certain all three of us are crying now, but Ripley is covering his mouth again, trying to keep quiet.
“I love you, Ma.”
She wipes at her eyes, her mascara running as a tear cascades down her cheek. “I love you too, sweetheart.”
Clearing my throat to compose myself, I realize I’m much less nervous about this next part now.
“So I know it’s fast, but do you want to meet my boyfriend?”