Chapter 17 Ian
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
IAN
My left forearm is raw and red.
I'm pinching myself just in case I'm dreaming—the last twenty-four hours have set my emotional cravings on fire and hit every single one of my horny buttons a hundred times over.
Making out with Callum. Rolling around in bed with him. Cuddling him. Making out with him some more. Stripping him down to nothing. Getting my hands on his big, strong body. Wrapping my mouth around his cock.
God, that fucking cock.
That pretty, reactive, perfect cock that's well proportioned to Callum’s…
everything else. I got to suck it exactly once, and I already drool like a dog staring at a biscuit whenever I so much as think about it swinging around in his soft black sweatpants.
Or how it looks outside those sweatpants as I'm about to blow him.
Aaand I'm hard again.
Not like getting hard is hard when Callum is built for sex and also built for ticking all of my boxes.
He's snoozing next to me on the couch-bed, still shirtless and still sexier than my brain can keep up with. I can't help but reach out and trace my fingers across his pecs, and his mouth twitches into a sleepy grin at the touch, all soft and peaceful.
He’s so ridiculously cute all the time, but when he’s asleep? Oh, man, he’s more adorable than a farm full of puppies, with his tiny smile and twitching eyes and cheekbones and everything else that makes him a total show-stopping dreamboat of a man.
The achy pangs of sweet, sweet affection in my chest won’t stop, and I don’t want them to.
Then, when I think this can't get any better, he rolls over and wraps himself around me.
Okay, I think this is what being a puddle feels like because I'm melted right now. Holy shit, I must have been a saint in my past life to deserve this. I might be a natural big spoon, but being all wrapped up in someone scratches a certain kind of intimate itch in my brain for which substitutes don’t exist.
Like the total sap I am, I rotate myself and maneuver my head up to kiss his forehead. Callum lets out some kind of half-asleep mumble, and the sound goes to two places: my heart and my dick.
Sheesh. My mind fills with pure filth whenever I so much as remember he exists, and it's not like he's totally innocent either, not with how hot he sounded when I was going down on him an hour ago. If he lets me be as freaky as I want with him, I'm gonna have to start wearing my knee pads at home.
Okay, Ian. Calm down.
On one hand, I know it's a good idea to take things nice and slow with Callum, let him come to me when he's ready, and not go over the top. He hasn’t told me that much about his past, and the last thing I need to do is feed into unhealthy coping mechanisms.
On the other hand, he’s in therapy. That sure counts for a lot.
Oh, and he likes me. He said so himself, and as for me? I never knew I could miss something before experiencing it, but after holding Callum in my arms and knowing what the reverse feels like, I don’t know how I was ever satisfied before.
Holy hell, I’m so gone for him, and it hasn’t even been a full day since we first kissed.
I sink deeper into the couch and let out a massive sigh, a grin spreading across my lips.
When I like someone, I like someone—I don't know if I've ever wanted someone this much, and I’d be a massive liar if I didn’t admit how amazing that makes me feel.
Callum is the first guy in way too long who hasn’t given me crap for being affectionate.
That sure isn’t lost on me, and there’s no way I’ll mess this up, not if I have any say in it.
As soon as I’m about to fall asleep myself, Callum’s body jerks, jolting both of us fully awake. His sleepy, captivating eyes open slowly, and once again, I can't notice anything other than his long-ass eyelashes. I'm surprised he doesn't make the wind pick up every time he blinks.
“Did you sleep well?” I ask.
He stretches, yawning and releasing a strained noise from his throat. “Oh yeah,” he mumbles, curling back around me. “I napped so hard, I’m all tired out.”
I snort, and he devolves into laughter at the sound. For someone who's so quiet most of the time, his loud, carefree laughs are always a sweet surprise.
“Are you too tired for dinner?” I ask. “I can order Italian from the place downstairs again.”
My offer is met with a slow, appreciative nod, and I sit down next to him for what I intend to be a quick kiss.
The millisecond my lips brush his, I can't drag myself away. I meet his clear, enchanting eyes for a second before closing my own, and I press harder into his mouth, letting Callum slip his tongue between my teeth.
Screw being quick. I could do this forever.
Yup, I've had ten hits off Callum's lips, and I'm already hooked. He should come with an advisory label the way nicotine does. Warning: Contains Callum. Callum is a highly addictive man. Consume at risk of being consumed yourself.
His stomach growling breaks the moment, activating my provider instincts like I'm a sleeper agent, and I pull back a little too quickly.
He blinks at me as if I betrayed him, and I use all of my willpower to take my phone out and order pasta instead of choosing to eat a very different kind of noodle for dinner—the kind that's best served extra, extra al dente and is available now, not in twenty minutes.
That twenty-minute wait passes in a flash, though, because I spend it making out with Callum while his heavy body pins me to the couch.
He gets a little feisty, and his instincts are fucking primal because he tries to give me, like, a hundred hickeys, but he's easily distracted by my mouth when I align it with his.
We groan in tandem when my phone beeps, and I'm filled with regret over not paying extra for delivery, even though the restaurant is in my building.
“Don't you dare go anywhere,” I say, reluctantly unpeeling myself from Callum when he nudges into me for a peck. “I'll be right back.”
Downstairs, I wait for the cashier to find our order, and I stand off to the side and wait with my hands in my pockets. In Callum’s absence, the gravity of what went down starts to sink in.
I’m his first…everything. I’ve been a few peoples’ firsts before, but those times were different.
There’s something else between us beyond late-night hookup feels, or at least I hope there is, given that I’m already down bad for him.
That, and the fact that he had a messed-up childhood, leading to him having more nerves than my fingertips.
From one guy-loving-guy to another, it's on me to help him out. It's a responsibility to a baby gay.
A skyscraping baby gay with chest hair.
Still, he’s in a fragile place. I can only imagine what's going through his head, so I do the unthinkable and apply logic.
We hooked up, he liked it, and he might like other things.
I could take him on a date.
Has he ever been on a date? Not likely, given what he's told me.
And for the first time since the summer, I let my heart race over the prospect of taking someone out. He's a blank slate, so I need to make it good. Way to put pressure on myself, but hey, it's for a good cause.
Callum is waiting at the dining table when I get back, and I find that he’s set it. Holy crap, he’s so thoughtful.
We eat in silence, our hunger getting the best of us, and I clear our dishes once we’re both done. The two of us retreat to the couch, which I hope will stop being Callum’s bed, and I gesture for him to lie down.
He places his head in my lap, which sends an affectionate jolt of heat to my chest.
I’m gonna ask him now. There’s no reason not to.
“Hey, I was thinking,” I start, and he perks his head up, smiling. “Do you want to maybe go out sometime?” My heart is so far up my throat, it may as well be replacing my Adam's apple.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice soft. “You mean like a date?”
“Yes, Callum, I want to take you on a date,” I confirm. He has his hands clasped together on his chest, and I reach down to run my thumb along his knuckles.
“I’d like that a lot,” he says.
There’s no way for me to suppress the grin that breaks through my lips, so I don’t even try. If this ends up being a dream, I’m gonna wake up so mad.
He continues. “I’ve never been on a date.”
I guessed so, but there’s still that pressure to make it good. Even so, he said yes, and he trusts me to be the first guy to take him out. The brewing warmth in my core more than makes up for the nerves.
Tightening my arms around Callum's shoulders, I kiss his head as he nudges it deeper into my lap. He might as well be corkscrewing up into my heart with how he's being so cuddly.
“So,” I say, “do you still want to sleep on this lumpy, cold couch tonight, or do you want to join me in bed and use me as your personal space heater?”
He huffs. “You’re really selling it. Let's share the bed, if you're okay with it.”
Thank fuck. For my own selfish reasons, I’m kind of glad to have the couch back, but I’m happier about him wanting to share the bed. I need morning hugs or I get grouchy, and I’ve been grouchy for as long as I can remember.
“Let’s go, then.” I lead him back into the bedroom when he gives me a firm nod. Callum settling into the sheets next to me feels so natural, and I shut my eyes, resolving to do things right.
My god, it’s happening again, but this time, the target of my affection doesn’t seem to mind that much, not even when I roll over to spoon him. Again.
“You like this?” I ask.
“Yeah, s’okay,” he mumbles. The way he snuggles backward into me says that it’s more than okay, and him sighing when I tighten my arms around him confirms it.
“Sorry my bed isn't any bigger.”
Callum snorts. “I went from a dorm single to your couch, and now to this. It’s a major step up.”
“Yeah. If I knew I'd share with a giant, I would've sprung for something bigger than a double.”
“Come on, I'm not a giant,” he mumbles. “I'm like, six-five.”
I haul him closer to me. “Yeah, that’s giant,” I fire back. “It doesn't matter because I'm still gonna be the big spoon.”
With that, I roll on top of Callum, pressing him into the mattress. He flails around, laughing and pushing me off with a weak shove.
Crap. I snap out of it and fall back to my side of the bed.
“Sorry about that,” I say.
“What for?”
I sigh. “Again, I can be a lot. Some people have complained about me being too, uh, affectionate before.”
Callum nudges his head into my chest. “Nah, I really don’t mind. I like knowing that you care.”
My heart fucking gives out. “Sweeter words were never spoken, Cal.” I curl around his back, savoring his warmth. It's like I'm a jetpack, but it works.
After what feels like only a minute, he slackens under my arms. As much as I joked about him using me as a furnace, he runs hot, so I withdraw to avoid overheating. His presence never leaves my consciousness, though, and I let myself get lost in the rhythm of his breathing.
Tomorrow, we’re gonna plan our little date that I hope he’ll want to repeat.
Tonight, I have him in my bed for a second time. That’s more than I could have ever hoped for even a day ago.