Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Cannon
Reed coughs and shudders when I pull out of his mouth.
His bright, tawny eyes are wide with need, latched on me like he’ll do anything I say.
Soon I’m going to hear what he sounds like when he comes for me.
It’s my obsession, my only thought, tangled in threads of lust and longing I can’t seem to separate.
I lace my fingers in his curls and tip his head back, holding him there until his glazed expression clears a little.
I want him all the way here for this next part.
“Get on the bed for me,” I say quietly, stroking his hair back from his sweaty forehead.
“I’m gonna fill both your holes at once.
” He sucks in a breath and shivers all over with a helpless sound that fills me with satisfaction.
I did a little research yesterday to confirm how trans masc anatomy works so I could fuck him right without taking him out of the moment.
Apparently I did a lot better on this homework than I ever did at school.
I nod at the bed. “Go on, gorgeous.” He wobbles up onto the mattress on all fours as I grab a condom and lube from my bedside drawer.
It would be fucking hot to make him roll the condom onto my erection himself, but his hands are so shaky I’m not sure he could.
I just rip the packet open with my teeth and do it myself.
Reed crouches uncertainly in the middle of the bed, watching me admire him.
I love his wide, pale shoulders and the slope of his back, the dark hair speckled across his chest, the freckles on his full ass.
When I rake my fingers gently down his spine, he gasps and closes his eyes.
“Get on all fours,” I tell him, cupping his ass cheek in my palm. “Show me how ready you are.”
I can’t hold back a moan when he pushes up and exposes himself to me.
He’s drenched, glistening all the way from his cock to his asshole and streaked along his thighs.
I’ve never gotten to see anything like it, and it’s fucking unreal.
“Shit, Reed. Do you even know how desperate you look down here?” I thought maybe he’d start apologizing for making a mess, but I think I finally broke him because he just whimpers into his arm and arches his back to give me better access.
“That’s perfect,” I praise, teasing a finger up the inside of his thigh as I settle onto the bed behind him and jerk myself off over the condom. “Are you ready?” I don’t need to ask; I just want to enjoy hearing this dignified older man beg me for it.
“Cannon…” He rocks his ass back into my hips, then stills when I tap his flank warningly. “Please. I need you inside me. I’ll do anything.”
“Fuck yeah you will.” Spreading his cheeks with one hand and using the other to find my way, I line up against his slick front hole and push into the tight heat that ripples around me when his entire body clenches.
I’m the first person to take him in eight years, the first person to ever hold this version of his body.
Scared of the way that thought makes me feel, I drop my forehead between his shoulder blades. “Tell me when you start getting close.”
I don’t think he can talk anymore, but he reaches back and squeezes my thigh to tell me he heard.
Confident that he’ll obey, I let go of everything and just enjoy fucking this sexy body into the bed—the way he rocks back into me, the slap of skin in the warm, sex-smelling room, the velvety squeeze of his body around my aching cock.
All of a sudden, he sobs out something I can’t understand and grabs my leg hard.
“Okay,” I gasp, forcing my hips to go still.
“Hold on for me.” Moving as fast as I can, I coat my fingers in a generous layer of lube.
The man must play with toys at home, because as soon as I touch his asshole he bears down instinctively and takes my finger to the first knuckle.
Reed drops his head against my pillow, all the muscles in his back rippling as he twists and keens softly at the feeling of my fingers invading his ass while I’m still buried in his other hole.
Between the way he whimpers my name, the wetness, the desperate grip of his body struggling on my cock, I’m about to die.
“You want me to fuck you now?” I grit out when I have two fingers as deep as they can go.
He lets out a sound I’m not sure any human has ever made before and slaps the bed. “Come fast for me, baby,” I demand, rocking my hips. “I can’t hold out. Your holes are so fucking tight.”
That warning seems to be unnecessary, because after four hard thrusts his whole body convulses with a sob and both his holes squeeze until I’m fucking ruined.
I shove my hips as deep as I can, so every inch of me is touching every inch of him, and come in long, hard jerks.
I don’t have any idea what I whisper against the back of his neck as we both collapse—delicate hopes and promises I can’t keep.
When we’re both wrung out, I sit back on my heels slowly and slip out of him. It’s not until he pushes himself upright and turns around that I realize I'm just sitting there, shivering, struggling to catch my breath. My throat tightens with something like panic.
“Cannon?” he murmurs in confusion, wiping the smears of sex-tears off his cheeks. “Are you okay?”
My eyes slide to his and I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I’m plummeting to earth like a bird who just got ripped out of the sky by a hunter’s bullet. Because something this good can’t be this temporary. It can’t. It just fucking can’t.
I don’t know what part of those words comes out of my mouth, or maybe none of them at all, but Reed wraps his arms tight around me and buries his nose in my neck.
“It’s alright,” he whispers. But it’s a lie.
Our body heat is fading, and his appointment is in thirty minutes, and I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do.
When I try to say something, he shakes his head against my ear. “Don’t, please.”
I push him back, gripping his shoulders in shaky hands until he has to look at me. Neither of us has even come down from our orgasms. “Reed, please. Why can’t we see each other again? Come on. Look at us.”
“Stop.” He presses his palms to his forehead, his face wretched. “I just can’t, okay? You promised you wouldn’t ask.” When I reach for him, he pulls back and stumbles off the bed, grabbing for his jeans.
“That was before,” I whimper, feeling like the childish, needy one who can’t play it cool. But I don’t care. “I’ve never felt this way in my life. Do you not—”
“Of course I do,” he interrupts raggedly, staring down at the denim in his hands. “But the only way I could do this was to promise it was just one day. Please don’t take that from me.” When he looks at me, his eyes begging me to understand, I just feel a rush of frantic rage.
“No. It’s not fair. You can’t just make me fall in lo—” I clap my hand over my mouth as his eyes widen. Stupid fucking words. They can’t be true. But how else am I supposed to make sense of this feeling? “Don’t walk away,” I say instead, dizzy with how fast this all went to shit.
“I…” He exhales slowly and concentrates on pulling up his pants, then dragging his sweater down over his beautiful body.
My tiny hope that he’s about to say something good dies when he speaks again.
“I don’t think you should come with me to the appointment.
I think this needs to be goodbye. I had such a good time, and you’re such an amazing man.
You should—” Biting his lip, he shakes his head.
“Why the fuck did you have to be like this?” I have no idea if he’s talking about the good parts of today or the way I just took a sledgehammer to the few minutes we had left.
“I’m sorry,” I croak, stumbling to my feet so I can at least give him a hug.
When he lifts his head, all that sadness in his eyes comes pouring out and swallows him whole, vast and uncontrollable, so much bigger than I can grasp. “I have to go,” he chokes out, and practically runs out the door.
Part of me thinks it has to be a joke. We roleplayed people in love, so now we’re roleplaying people breaking up and he’ll be back in a second so we can joke about how crazy that was.
But when I cross to the window, I watch through the blinds as he drags my bicycle out of his trunk, then almost backs the car into a ditch before correcting back onto the road and disappearing.
Gary chases him a little ways, barking, then looks back at the house as if to ask what the fuck is wrong with me.
I stand there in the middle of the room for probably twenty minutes, hugging my naked body, staring at nothing.
The night that I cut my hand feels kind of funny now.
I was so angry and lost, like I had nothing left.
Somehow I managed to take that feeling and make it a thousand times worse.
Maybe that’s the one thing I’m really good at.
Eventually, because I don’t want to drink myself into oblivion this time, I drag on my clothes and try to clean up the kitchen.
One of the salad plates slips out of my fingers and goes crashing across the counter, shattering into a dozen pieces.
“Fucking shit.” I wrap my arms around my head and lean against the fridge.
The sounds of my small town gradually start to leak through the single-pane windows as I struggle to breathe.
Dogs barking as the kids ride past on their skateboards.
The honking of the county bus out on the main road because Luke Collins always gets his bike stuck in the front rack.
The thud of a power hammer from my old workplace, which you can hear when they leave the garage doors open in the nice weather.
This place makes me feel like I’m drowning, but I never tried to leave because I didn’t think anyone else could see me or want me. Until today.