Chapter 19
NINETEEN
NORTH
Leo is in my bed, and he’s got his arms around me and his tongue in my mouth. He’s guiding me in the ways he likes to be kissed: gently and carefully. He shows me where my hands should touch, how hard to press down, and when to pull back.
I have never paid closer attention to anything ever in my life. Not the way I’m paying attention to him. I’m going to get a PhD in how to make Leo see God by the time I’m done with him.
He moans softly as I rock my hips against his thigh, and my fingers drag down his naked torso, past the waistband of the soft pajama pants that are tented by his dick before sliding back up.
There’s a wet spot now from where he’s leaking, and I’m just grateful my boxers are black because I think I’d probably be mortified by how much precome has been dribbling out of me.
It’s like a fucking fountain of want, and I know the moment my bare skin touches his, it’ll be over. I won’t be able to hold back. He’s everything I’d ever fantasized about wanting in a man, and things I didn’t know I could want.
This doesn’t compare to what we had before—the stolen moments full of anger when I was taking what I could get because I was so sure he wouldn’t want me any other way. And now, knowing that he’s in this—that he’s into me—it’s like a fucking drug.
He’s so patient with me, and for the first time ever, I don’t feel like some moss-green virgin loser who has no idea what he’s doing. Every kiss, every touch, every thrust against him, and he moans like he’s in heaven.
And I’m the one responsible for making him feel that way.
My fingers skitter down his torso, down to his exposed stomach, where I see most of his scars from his fall. They’re not like mine. They’re thick and jagged, and I can tell they bother him from the way he tries to roll away from me.
“Let me touch you,” I beg.
He stares into my eyes for a moment, and then he nods. “Yeah. Okay.”
I kiss down his sternum, teeth grazing, leaving a trail of spit, and I come to a stop just above his belly button. I’d seen it before—it’s surrounded by dark hair, rounded outward—and just before I can put my mouth there, he covers it.
“I know it’s weird,” he murmurs.
I climb back up toward his face and take his chin between my fingers. “Nothing about you is weird. Nothing about you is unattractive.”
His swallow catches in his throat. “I’ve been told—”
“Fuck anyone who ever made you feel like you were unworthy,” I bite, cutting off his words. “They didn’t deserve you. If you don’t want me touching you there, I won’t, but I like your body. All of your body.”
He breathes slowly and steadily through his nose, then threads his fingers into my hair and guides my mouth down. “Please,” he whispers softly.
I pay his scars attention, and his little round belly button attention. Then I start to kiss back upward, pausing at each nipple and sucking there until he’s begging with soft, sobbing moans.
Going up onto my knees, I lean over him, dropping my mouth over his in a hard, messy kiss. His tongue is warm and demanding, and I let him guide me more—making sure I pay every ounce of attention to what he wants.
His fingers brush over my chest, and when they find the silicone rings in my nipples, he grabs and tugs, making me moan right into his mouth.
“Good?” he asks against my lips.
“Yes,” I say, then kiss him harder as he tugs and pulls, making my dick twitch, begging for release.
His hips start to move upward in a stuttered fuck, and then he falls back down and hisses in pain. “Sorry. Sorry,” he breathes out. “I want more, but it hurts to move.”
“I’ve got you.” My fingers slip beneath his waistband, and I shove the elastic down past his dick and balls. It’s thick against my palm—warm and throbbing, the veins prominent, the skin a sort of ruddy flush of a man so turned on, he’s ready to spill.
Leo shifts restlessly from side to side as I stroke him once, root to tip. A blush creeps from his neck into his cheeks, and his eyes are wide as they lock on my face.
“Again,” he tells me.
I obey, and this time, I don’t stop with one. I stroke him up and down, faster, harder, a fapping sound filling the room as I draw him closer to his orgasm. His breath stutters in his chest, and one hand flies down, pressing over mine as he shows me exactly how he likes it.
A little tighter squeeze, a little slower, all the way down until the side of my hand grazes his balls, then all the way up, briefly cupping the head of his dick before starting over again. It’s so thick in my hand, and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like inside of me.
I’ve used toys before, but this…god, this would be so much better.
“I want you to fuck me,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
His entire body goes still, and my hand freezes. His breath is coming in heavy pants, and his dick kicks against my palm like it’s trying to urge me on, though I don’t move. Not yet.
I don’t know if I’ve said the wrong thing.
Leo’s eyes cut down to his wrapped legs, then back up to my face, and he seems almost frantic. “North. I—I can’t. I won’t be able to move enough.”
“Oh my god, no. I don’t mean now.” I surge in and kiss him, soothing his panic until I feel him relax against me.
Then I begin to stroke him, loose and slow, as I pull back.
“I want to feel you inside me, but I can be patient.” My cock throbs in my boxers as I pick up the pace again and squeeze tightly.
“Oh god,” he moans, voice thready. His body goes stiff all over again, and he grips the back of my neck, yanking me into a kiss that’s mostly him panting into my mouth…
…and then he’s coming.
Hard.
He gasps, and I catch his breath on my tongue as his fingers claw at my shoulders and back. His rough gasp turns into a chest-deep moan, and his hips fuck up into my hand, and he spills and spills until there’s nothing left.
His dick softens slightly as he drops back against the pillows, and he lets out a small whimper of pain as I let him go.
My gaze catches on his flushed cheeks, on his kiss-swollen lips half-parted as he tries to catch his breath.
My own dick was on the verge of exploding, but it starts to flag when I see how much discomfort he’s in.
I need to know he’s okay.
“How’s your pain?”
“Not bad. I promise.” His eyes are a little wild still, almost feverish, and he presses a palm to my bare chest. The touch is fucking exquisite, and I do everything I can not to pin him to the bed and rub off on him until I come.
“Will you let me make it good for you?” he asks, dragging a hand down to my cock.
I start to shake my head. “I can tell you’re hurting.”
“I don’t care. I need to feel you. Please, North…”
Like I’m going to let him beg for that. I push up higher onto my knees, then shimmy my boxers down to the middle of my thighs.
I have wanted this for so long. I’ve come with him twice, but only untouched, so it takes a single graze of his fingers on my shaft for my dick to fully harden again. And when he grips me tight, I nearly lose it.
“Leo,” I breathe, his name ragged on my lips.
His grip tightens, and then he begins to stroke me so fast his fist slams up against my lower stomach, and my vision goes white around the edges.
Falling forward, I only just manage to catch myself with my hands on the headboard before pleasure rockets through me.
It’s like fire licking at my skin, and I have zero control as the wave of white-hot ecstasy rips up my spine.
My eyes slam shut, and next thing I know, I’m shooting thick, hot ropes all over Leo’s stomach and chest.
I can’t breathe for a second, my head swimming as I attempt to suck in a lungful of air, and by the time the world’s right again, he’s reaching for my discarded T-shirt to mop up the mess we both left behind.
It was definitely not the romantic first time I was hoping this would be.
I fumbled with him so much, and he had to guide me the whole way.
But it doesn’t change the fact that this meant something.
That the first time I was touched by another man, it was him.
My eyes get a little hot, and I swallow against a tight throat.
“Hey, are you okay? You look—” He stops and doesn’t finish his sentence. He’s probably going to say I look like I’m about to cry, and it feels a bit like I am.
Biting my lip, I nod, then take the soiled shirt away from him and drop it on the side of the bed. That gives me just enough time to regain my composure so when I look back at him, I’m not about to lose it.
He tries for a smile, and I do my best to match it.
“Will you lay with me?” he murmurs.
I settle against him as careful as I can be. His legs are still up in the makeshift leg rest I made for him, but I give it a quick adjustment before lying back down and letting my cheek rest against his shoulder.
“If this is too uncomfortable, let me know, and I can move to the couch.”
He makes a tiny hum in the back of his throat. “I don’t want to be alone.”
My heart does a tiny flip.
“Also,” he adds, “you and I both know that couch is not fit for naps, let alone a good night’s sleep.”
I pinch his side, and he bursts into laughter. “Leave me and my shitty couch alone.”
Leo’s arm shifts under me, and he pulls me close. “I’d rather not leave you alone, if you don’t mind.”
“No. I don’t mind.” Burying my face against his side, I take a deep breath of his skin. He smells a bit too much like the hospital, but he also smells a lot like us.
And that is everything I need in this moment.
I wake up in bed alone, and for a moment, it feels entirely normal. Then I realize I’m not supposed to be alone, and I shoot up, nearly falling on my face when my feet get all twisted in the sheets. Leo isn’t here, and he’s not supposed to be walking, so what the fuck happened!
I manage to make it off the bed without braining myself, and I attempt to both run and hop into my sweats as I fumble toward the living room, where my panic reaches a crescendo before it slams to a halt.