Atticus
CAMERON SNORES SOFTLY FROM where he lies on my chest, his back expanding gently. The warmth of his body leaks into mine, nearly lulling me to sleep right alongside him.
But I refuse to sleep on this couch when there is a perfectly good bed waiting for us in the other room.
My eyes haven’t returned to the TV since I yanked him down on top of me, and I stare at his soft skin as I rub circles against his back.
If I was uncertain before how far I wanted this thing between us to go, the phone call I received tonight cleared up any remaining doubt.
The sound of his broken voice, the way his cheek was reddening and swollen when I arrived… how he called me so that he wouldn’t spend the night alone…
Jesus. I can’t wait to find the unlucky being who did this to him—if he ever tells me, that is.
Some part of me knows he never will, and not by choice.
I could feel the shame radiating off of him when I found him on that curb, as if I could ever judge him for finding himself in a situation where he was on the weaker end.
I want to protect him from the evils of this world. I want to keep him here, locked away from all outside forces while I teach him how freeing it’ll be to surrender to me. Completely.
My eyes trace the curve of his spine, the delicate, round outline of his exposed bottom. The urge to grab it, knead it, mark it with my hands or teeth is strong, but he needs his sleep.
But I can touch. Soft and gentle, I can touch him.
So I drag my fingertips over the peak of one cheek, feeling him twitch against me as if he can sense it, even from the depths of a dream.
“Shh,” I coo, grazing his warm skin.
Cameron makes a noise, something mumbled and unidentifiable, and it makes me violent with admiration. I want to squeeze and crush and tighten my hold until no one can ever touch him again. So that no one else will ever be able to hear these sweet, sleepy noises.
Someday, Cameron will be mine. I will take him to Chastain Castle, introduce him to my family, and make him my husband.
But for now, I’ll settle for sleeping curled up next to him.
I gently lower his robe, sliding a hand under his thighs to sweep his lower body off the edge of the couch and keeping him cradled against my chest as I stand. Cameron is by no means light with all of these muscles, but I’m strong enough anyway.
I’m suddenly very proud of my strict workout regimen.
With even strides, I carry him to the bedroom, pulling back the covers with one hand and laying him on the bed.
As I cover him with the duvet and take a step back, ready to shower myself, he reaches out an arm, eyes still firmly pressed shut.
“Atticus?” he mumbles, blindly searching for me in his sleep.
“I’m here,” I tell him, sitting on the edge of the bed to brush his golden-blond hair from his face.
Cameron looks so peaceful, so delicate here that my chest aches. But then I notice his robe has fallen open on his top half, and the impression of a dark, vicious bruise is exposed to me from where it marks his stomach.
A cold chill moves through me, and an anger I’ve only ever felt in relation to the mistreatment of my own family overcomes my senses.
Who the hell did this to him? Is he not in pain?
“Stay,” Cameron murmurs, pulling at my arm where he’s latched on. “Don’t let him… Stay with me.”
Don’t let who?! I want to shake him and demand answers, but the soft huff of his breath is preventing me from doing so.
“I’ll stay with you, sweetheart,” I promise. It’s a declaration deeper than what he can comprehend.
And as if that’s all he needed, like he trusts me wholly and completely, he sighs and drops his arm, slipping back off into restful sleep.
I leave him briefly, off to take my own shower, and return in a matching robe to find him sprawled out of the bed, his own robe slipping off his shoulders.
God, he’s beautiful. So beautiful that I could go mad thinking of all the men and women who want a taste of what he has to offer.
But I pocket those thoughts, slipping into bed beside him and pulling him to me. For now, Cameron can sleep.
In the morning, I’ll demand answers until he tells me. And he will… eventually.
Cameron is a very obedient boy.
I can’t remember what I was dreaming of just a moment ago, but as I slowly come to, I know it was something pleasant. And probably something in relation to the man next to me.
The room is still dark, informing me that it is, in fact, still the middle of the night, but I can hear the whining nonetheless.
My eyes peel open, and as I peer down at where Cameron is still sprawled over my chest, I realize it’s him.
He’s whimpering softly, brows furrowed, and lips parted as he fights some imaginary force in his mind. He’s having a nightmare.
I could shake him awake, tell him he’s not alone, but I fear that’ll only startle him. Instead, I rub at the crease in his brow and make soft shushing noises, hoping to rid him of the dream before he fully realizes it’s here.
It does not work. Cameron twitches for a moment, sighing in irritation, before his eyes begin to blink lazily, slowly bringing him to awareness.
As those sleepy gray eyes meet mine, the tension in his face dissipates, and he smiles shyly.
“Sorry,” Cameron mumbles. “Bad dream.”
“I’ve got you,” I tell him, pulling him tighter against me.
Cameron makes a pleased noise, nuzzling his face into my neck as he squirms.
Only, as he squirms, something hard and very much awake rubs against my thigh, triggering the primal part of my brain and waking me completely.
“Cameron,” I purr, brushing my lips over his ear. He shudders. “It seems you’re in a… situation.”
“Ugh,” he groans, most likely in embarrassment. I’m finding that this man finds everything to be embarrassing. “Just ignore it.”
But now he’s subtly rubbing against me, and I can’t just ignore it. Not when his body is begging so sweetly, and the smell of him is overpowering the smell of the body wash we keep stocked in the bathroom.
Gently, I roll him onto his back, placing myself on top of him. His eyes widen, sleepy and yet startled.
“Let me give you some relief,” I whisper, dropping an open-mouthed kiss to his warm jaw. “Let me help.”
“Atticus,” he moans, his hips pushing up into mine.
It appears I will not be met with any hesitation tonight.
“Shush now,” I tell him, pinning his hips with my palm. “I’ll handle it.”
I drop my other hand to his stomach, running my fingertips over the bruise there.
“You always… You always handle everything,” he breathes out, shuddering at the feel of my cool fingers.
“Yeah? It’s what I do. Do you like that, sweetheart? Do you like it when I handle everything for you?”
“Mhm,” Cameron mumbles, his eyes sliding shut. “Like it.”
“What about this?” I pry, gliding my hand down and past the tie of his robe to grip him. “Do you like this?”
Cameron gasps, his brows furrowing as he nods violently. “Yes. Yes, I like it.”
He’s hot in my hand—hard and velvety. I stroke him slowly, enjoying how his breathing picks up and how he makes those soft, desperate noises in the back of his throat.
“I know you do,” I croon. “You like it when I touch you. When I make you feel good.”
“So good,” Cameron agrees as I run my thumb over his slit, collecting the small amount of fluid there.
“You want to come in my hand again, baby? You want me to massage your hot cock until you explode?”
Cameron doesn’t respond right away. His eyes open, meeting my own, and he worries his bottom lip as he tries to read me.
Then, on a sudden, broken gasp, he replies, “N-no. I want… I want more.”
More? As in… as in sex? A blowjob? More fingering? I need him to be very specific because when it comes to his anal virginity, I’ll need him to verbally ask for it. It just feels too… important.
“You want to be in my mouth? To thrust between my lips or maybe ride my fingers?” I’m testing the waters, giving him all the options—except maybe one—so that he can have an easier time deciding.
But he surprises me.
“Will you… Will you fuck me?” he asks.
I stare back, completely shocked. My hand stops moving where I’m stroking him, and my heart thunders so loudly I swear I can hear the ocean as if I’m standing next to it.
Cameron takes this hesitation the wrong way, and he begins to backpedal. “I mean, you don’t have to. Sorry, I’m half asleep and I—”
“Yes,” I interrupt, my tone far too rushed. “Yes… I’ll fuck you.”
He sighs in relief, his body relaxing beautifully at the declaration. As if there was ever a chance I’d turn this opportunity down.
“But you’re a virgin in this way,” I continue, dropping hungry kisses on his cheeks. “So it’ll hurt at first. And I’ll have to prep you thoroughly.”
“Prep me?” Cameron repeats, and I realize he has no clue how sex between men works.
I almost laugh, but I’m too distracted being completely turned on by the prospect of teaching him.
“Mhm. I’ll need to stretch you so I can fit inside that tight little hole.” To prove my point, I drop my hand between his thighs, pushing them open to slide between his cheeks and rub gently at his entrance.
It’s hot and dry, tensing beneath the pad of my fingertip.
“O-oh,” Cameron gasps out. “Okay.”
“Don’t move,” I tell him, leaving one last wet kiss on his face before I stand and head into the bathroom, grabbing some lotion.
There is most definitely no lube in this house.
As I return to the bedroom, I find him in the exact same spot I left him, having not moved an inch. Something inside of me warms to the point of pain.
Or, it does until I take in his expression.
Cameron is watching me as if he’s terrified. His plush lips are turned down into a frown, and paired with his wild blond hair and furrowed brow, he looks so sweet and frightened that I’m almost nauseous with want and sympathy.
“Cameron,” I draw slowly, climbing onto the bed to settle between his spread legs as I pull off my robe. “We don’t have to do this. I know you’re still figuring yourself out, so we can wait on penetration if you’d like.”