Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
EWAN
Shiloh is sleeping deeply enough to not be snoring. His breathing is heavy and slow, shoulder rising and falling gently. I’ve been awake for an hour, eyes on his back and long adjusted to the dark of the room, watching. Watching and thinking.
There’s little more than a foot of distance between us—so much of him available to me without straining. And if I moved closer? If I slid over, careful not to jostle the mattress too much? Well, there’s a hell of a lot more I might be able to get away with then.
He’s asleep, and I’m awake. I could give him exactly what he asked for.
The only thing holding me back is that sliver of mattress between us and that one single encompassing fact of him being asleep.
I told him I was open to trying, and I am.
Hell, I even did a little research after we had that talk, trying to figure out exactly how people went about this.
I’m just so fucking nervous, and my mind keeps catching on the edge of consent.
It’s not a fine edge—not to me. I’ve never considered there to be any gray area when giving or offering it.
It’s either a yes or a no, and “maybe but we’ll have to wait and see how I feel when I wake up” hadn’t factored into that equation.
I really, really don’t want to find out how it feels to initiate this with him and then have him ask me to stop; have him tell me that I chose the wrong morning and should have let him sleep. Worse, what if he doesn’t tell me?
I promised him I’d try, though, and to be honest, I want to.
I’m hard just considering it, fingers tingling and pulse skittering.
I want to touch, and the longer I stare at that broad back, the stronger that desire becomes.
Tentatively, I close the distance and brush my knuckles down the line of his spine, barely touching him.
When I reach the dip of his lower back, I flip my hand and trail my fingertips along the curve of his waist. No reaction.
Slowly, I move across the bed until I’m close enough to feel the tickle of his hair against my face.
This time, when I touch him, I follow the slope of his shoulder, down his arm to where his hand is resting on the mattress in front of him.
He shifts a bit as I trace the fine bones of his hand, outlining each finger.
When he curls his hand into a fist, I move that last inch closer and press myself against his back.
The sheet has slid down, exposing my back to the cold of the room; a direct contrast to the burning heat of Shiloh’s skin against mine.
I’m glad for the cold, for once. My senses are dialed up to eleven, dick hard where it’s held between my body and Shiloh’s.
I’m unsure what to make of how turned on I am right now—fired up from the mere thought of what I’m about to do and a few simple, safe touches.
I could grind against Shiloh a couple of times and come from that alone.
And wouldn’t that be a humiliating way to end our first foray into Shiloh’s dream world.
Trying to give myself a minute to calm down, I reach back for where I’d stowed the lube when I woke up an hour ago and hyped myself up to try this.
The click of the cap sounds loud enough to be a gunshot in the otherwise perfectly silent room.
Shiloh, the big bear, sleeps on, completely undisturbed.
I hate him for it a little bit. If anyone so much as breathes on me when I’m asleep, I’ll wake up.
Leaving the open lube bottle where I can easily reach it, I go back to teasing Shiloh.
And myself, because there is something to be said for the slow, silky slide of skin over skin, feeling the way goose bumps rise and listening for the smallest changes in his breathing.
I lean close and press my mouth against the back of his neck, smiling against him when he unconsciously tilts his head back, seeking more.
Hand on his belly now, my own tingles as I stroke him as though I’m the one being touched.
He twitches like it tickles but still doesn’t wake.
Nor does he wake when I push up onto an elbow, leaned over him as I watch his face and blindly grab for the lube.
I can’t see much, just the vague slope of his profile and the darker shadow of his beard.
I can hear everything, though, including the sharp inhalation when I lean down and breathe warm air against his neck.
I have to close my eyes and control the moan that wants to come out of me when I spread lube over my now painful dick. This is way hotter than I thought it would be. My heart is beating so erratically it’s a little hard to breathe. I’m lightheaded as though the room is low on oxygen.
When I nudge Shiloh’s leg forward with a knee pressed behind his, he groans and rolls forward, hips shifting as he adjusts.
I freeze, skin tingling and heart skipping as I wait to see if he woke up.
I’m pretty sure I’ll know the exact moment he shifts from asleep to pretending to be so.
I get away with it, though, which has my pulse zinging with a slightly perverse pleasure.
I’m suddenly very invested in keeping him asleep for as long as possible.
I push him forward slightly with my body, trying to anchor his top leg against the mattress so he can’t move it as I slide my cock between his thighs.
Despite how hard I’m biting my lip, I can’t help the groan that escapes.
The space between his legs is hot and tight and slick from the lube I coated myself with.
I can feel where my dick is pressed along his, catching on his sack and taint, and it is so hard not to let myself move, not to thrust hard and come inside that warm pocket of Shiloh.
“Shit,” I mutter, dropping my forehead down to his arm and spinning out enough to let the word escape.
“Ewan,” Shiloh murmurs sleepily, shifting again and clenching his legs around me. I can’t help it this time and rock my hips, thrusting into that slippery heat, breaths already panting from the effort it takes to hold back.
I can feel every centimeter of drag as I rock my hips into him.
Arm shaking from the effort of holding myself up for so long, I rest back down beside him and scratch my teeth over the back of his neck.
Not biting down, just firing up the nerve endings and letting them know I might.
It fully wakes Shiloh up, and I know it immediately by the way he stops breathing.
I rock harder and faster, flattening my palm on his leg to hold it down, to tighten the space I’m thrusting into.
He doesn’t tell me to stop, nor does he tell me he’s awake.
He’s still, almost perfectly relaxed and pliant.
I continue fucking into him and pretend I don’t know he’s conscious.
He keeps his thighs clenched when I let go and even goes so far as to slide his top leg back into me, not unlike the way someone might shift in their sleep.
Hand free, I slip it down in front of him and reach for his dick.
Still trying to maintain the illusion, I don’t stroke him.
Instead, I tease the head with my thumb, pressing into the tip and playing with his foreskin.
I’m not the only one breathing erratically now, and Shiloh shifts in a way that makes me think he’s pressing his face into the pillow.
The blanket slides from our shoulders to pool at Shiloh’s waist, my movements smooth and steady and gaining in speed as the burn in my pelvis spreads.
An orgasm is working its way up my spine, little tendrils of pleasure twisting through my body.
I don’t make any effort to get Shiloh there.
I continue to take my own pleasure the way he asked me to, using his body like a toy.
I play with him because I want to, not because I have any desire to get him off.
He’s warm and slick and motionless, lying there for me to take, take, take.
Hand still on his dick, I press my thumb hard into his slit, and his hips buck.
I follow him, pushing him forward as I thrust into his lube-slicked thighs.
The noise he makes is almost animalistic, a groan so low and deep I swear I can feel it reverberate in my bones.
Gasping, I come, my cock trapped on the back slide, seed spilling between his legs and adding to the mess.
I thrust into it, groaning at the overstimulation but unable to stop moving.
Sliding my hand to his thigh, I keep rocking and moaning and trying to wring every ounce of pleasure out of something that’s starting to hurt.
Shiloh comes a second later, body shivering beneath mine.
Time fuzzes, and my senses narrow further.
Everything is tapered down to the ache of pleasure and the warmth of the room, sweat, slick, and panting breaths.
Overstimulated now, I roll back off Shiloh, letting him up, my spent dick sliding soft from between his legs.
Resting flat on my back, I take my first full lungful of air, eyes closed.
“Holy shit,” I whisper.
The mattress shifts. I crack open an eye just quickly enough to see Shiloh’s hand reaching for my face. I close it again, smiling into his mouth as he kisses me. I hum, feeling incredibly happy. Also, incredibly short of breath as Shiloh kisses it away.
He lies down on his back beside me, close enough that our arms and hips and knees touch.
The blanket has long been kicked to the end of the bed, and the cool air of the room feels heavenly on my skin.
Soon, I know, it’ll be too much, and I’ll get cold, but for right now, it’s perfect.
Shiloh gives me a minute more of silence before speaking, voice low and rough with sleep.
“Ewan?”
“Half of him, anyway,” I joke weakly. I’m pretty sure I lost fifty percent of my brain cells in that orgasm. Oh well, I probably won’t miss them anyway.
“Okay?” he asks, the single word loaded with a whole lot of questions.
“I’ll accept any performance reviews you might have. Hopefully, the rating is high enough to do that again, because, Shi, I think I might be ruined for vanilla sex after that.”
He laughs, rolling to face me. I turn my head to the side to meet him halfway, lips pressed together in a chaste peck of a kiss that feels like love.
“Thank you. I didn’t expect that to be so…much,” he finishes shyly. I get it, though. I’m not a wordsmith either, but if I were to try and paint the feeling, it would be black and white and the cerulean of Shiloh’s eyes. It would be flashes of light in the dark and warm, safe, Shiloh blue.
“Is that how you pictured things going?” We didn’t exactly plan out a full itinerary when he brought it up, and I couldn’t figure out the mechanics of prepping someone for anal without waking them up.
“Better. Much better,” he replies, voice soft and satisfied. I smile up at the ceiling. We breathe together for a few moments, Shiloh’s hand resting atop mine, fingers rubbing back and forth. He sighs. “I suppose we’d better wash.”
“I did mess you up a bit,” I say proudly, and then groan when Shiloh chooses to roll over me and exit the bed on my side. He snags my hand as he does, pulling me along.
“Come on, love,” he requests. I shiver at the endearment, my body perking up as though those four little letters were fingers stroked down my spine. Love. I let myself be led, happy to follow wherever he wants to lead.