Four months later #5
Bay looks ridiculously good lying in that bed, his limbs sprawled, a thin blanket thrown loosely over his hips, and under the fabric his morning erection is clearly outlined and dear Fate… it’s thick and long. Massive.
He’s naked under the blanket, and I take in his unbelievably muscular, tattooed body: the chest with its solid bulges of muscle, the perfect abs, the huge, heavy biceps, all of it on display for my shameless, hungry eyes, while his long, dark-red hair spills over the pillow like streaks of dried blood.
His eyes are closed, his mouth slightly parted.
I stand over him like a creep.
I take a moment to look at his regular, symmetrical features, the soft full shape of his mouth so similar to his dad’s, and those impossibly thick dark lashes.
Sometimes I have this absurd thought about what our kids would look like. Probably super cute…
I take a step toward him, leaning down a little, and my gloved hand drifts lightly across his chest. I tremble as I do it, because it has been nearly ten years since the last time I touched him in any sexual way—officially—and the sensation is incredible, electric.
Bay slowly turns his head on the pillow and his long lashes lift.
The dark malachite green of his eyes looks at me like a deep, unfathomable pool.
I freeze for a moment, then continue moving, my gloved hand brushing along his collarbone and then grazing his neck gland.
"My mark is still here," I say quietly.
He stays silent. I slowly slide my hand back over his tattooed chest and then over the hard ridges of his stomach muscles, his eyes fixed on my face, saying nothing as my hand drifts down to his blanket-covered hips and lightly moves along the hard, long shape beneath it.
I hear the faint hitch in his breath before he lets it out with a slight delay.
"I’m gonna blow you now," I say in a calm, unwavering voice, lifting the pack of condoms I hold in my other hand. "Do you agree?"
A tiny twitch appears at the corner of his mouth, like he almost wants to smirk.
"I do." His voice is very low.
I slowly lift the blanket and toss it aside, exposing Bay’s shaved groin. I know gripping his cock with a gloved hand isn’t ideal, but I do it anyway, wrapping my fingers around his shaft and lifting it upright.
"So much bigger than I remember from senior year…"
Silence. Bay doesn’t comment. His irises darken, the green turning almost black.
I open a condom and roll it onto his cock, then open a second and slide it on too, watching his face for any reaction. He surely gets the reference. But Bay’s expression stays calm. No surprise.
I drapes the blanket over his thighs for isolation, then straddle his lap. Pressing my fingers against the hinge of my jaw, I push it back and down with a firm, decisive shove.
Every ABO can do this—jaw dislocation for the bite-lock during simultaneous gland marking. It’s painless and easy.
Bay watches with dilated pupils, his heartbeat steadily speeding up, the only sign that my actions have any effect. I don’t give myself credit for his hardness, though. It could just be morning wood.
I lean in slowly, bracing my hands on either side of his hips, careful not to touch him.
Taking the tip of his thick cock into my mouth, I start sinking down, pushing it deeper into my throat.
But no matter how hard I try, I can’t take him as deep as I want. He’s just too thick for my esophagus.
That doesn’t mean I’m not putting in the effort, heroically fighting my gag reflex.
Turns out, wearing gloves has its perks. They glide smoothly over the latex-wrapped shaft, so I’m not just sucking him, I’m stroking him too. The strawberry flavor of the condom makes it all bearable.
Even though there are two layers between us and the sensation should be dulled for him, it doesn’t look like it. From the subtle cues, his breath, his racing heart, the flush in his cheeks, I know it’s hitting him hard.
When I feel him getting close, I lower my right hand into my own shorts, gripping my cock, desperately hard, begging for attention.
A few strokes, and I come right as Bay lets out a sharp exhale.
I feel his cock pulse in my mouth, he releases at least five thick spurts.
I catch his instinctive move; he wants to reach out, to touch my head or my shoulder, but his hand drops back onto the bedding.
For a moment, I just look at him. Then I grip the rim of the condom and slide it up, careful not to spill anything; there’s a lot in there.
I stare at the thick white blob for a second.
"That was a nice wake-up surprise," Bay says, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "Now that’s what I call a good morning."
"I plan to do this every day," I say firmly.
A beat of silence. Our eyes lock, glued together.
"Sounds good," he murmurs. "But I’d like to return the favor…"
I smirk. "Won’t be much of a challenge with me… but I’ll think of something."
"Make sure you do."
I sigh, standing up. Bay makes another unconscious move, like he wants to grab my hand or pull me close, but he stops himself.
"Got to get ready for class," I mutter.
"I’ll walk you," Bay says.
"Really not necessary…" I protest, but without conviction.
"I’ll walk you," Bay repeats, his voice absolutely calm and leaving no room for argument.
A faint shiver runs low in my belly, so I only nod obediently.
This is exactly what it means to be with someone who has such a strong protector instinct, and I start to remember how much I always loved that, the feeling of being precious to somebody.
I was horribly lonely for almost exactly a decade, and now…
this new feeling rises in me and spreads through my veins like a drug.
I want him to care about me, to protect me like his treasure, to fill the void in me, around me.
When Bay stands up, completely naked, I realize I am standing beside a man who is almost two heads taller than me and so much more massive, towering over me like some kind of statue, and I tilt my head back to look up at him before taking a decisive step toward him, because his size doesn’t scare me, it… turns me on.
My chest rests against his stomach, his arms hang passively at his sides, but then I slowly lift my gloved hands and lace my fingers with his.
Even with the gloves on, still the feeling is wonderful, Bay’s fingers weaving through mine as we stand there pressed together, looking at each other with that charged intensity.
"I want you…" he whispers.
"I can feel it, and see it," I say, because his still hard cock is pressed against my stomach and chest.
I smile, and he returns it.
When I head to class that day, Bay walks beside me.
I can’t deny myself at least some form of contact with him, so I put the gloves on and stop caring about whatever anyone might think, because gloves in Florida in spring are definitely not necessary, but who cares.
I take his hand and we stroll across campus like we used to, fingers intertwined, and I turn and catch his eyes.
"I missed this," I murmur.
"It will never be gone again," Bay replies with certainty.
Could it really be that easy?
◆◆◆
The next few days pass with a shy but steady closeness building between us, and unfortunately I also have to accept the fact that our house is now regularly visited by Bay’s coworkers.
Bay asked whether I would prefer that he take them to his apartment, but I had an intense, almost explosive reaction to the idea.
There was no way in hell I was going to put any unnecessary space between us, even if it meant forcing myself to crawl out of my tiny, secluded mental hole. My shyness needs to go.
I will be Dr. Alexander Nolan very soon, with a full-time position at the college, and I’m trying to see the advantages of this situation, to work on how feral and withdrawn I’ve become.
The very next day, Eric shows up about something, and then the whole band comes over to rehearse a few things, which means they take over the living room while I hide upstairs in my ‘cave’.
But then memories surface, back when Bay was still playing with the school band, and this used to be part of our routine anyway.
So on an impulse, I decide to go downstairs and hang out near them.
The most awkward moment comes right after I emerge from my ‘cave’, when Bay introduces me to the rest of the band and immediately says, "This is my husband, Alex."
They have no problem with it, and Malik even seems happy to see me. The only problem is that I still can’t fully believe any of this. I’ve become such a homebody over the years, and now my life is being catapulted into me being the boyfriend of a quite popular singer!
The band is shocked when Bay explains that we got married when we were eighteen but were separated by incompatibility that, as he tells them, wasn’t actually real and turned out to be something we could eventually bypass.
It’s funny, but the very word husband feels almost absurd to me, because I stopped thinking of myself that way long ago, assuming it was only some piece of paper that had been shoved onto a shelf a decade ago, nothing important, but apparently for Bay it is still reality.
Which is another sweet thing that makes my heart swell.
They play for about two hours, and when they finally finish rehearsal and it’s just the two of us again, I hand him the thick gloves, pull on a heavy sweater and pants, sit beside him on the bed and lean against him, making sure no part of my bare skin touches his.
Bay gently strokes my hair and I say,
"I’m curious how your family is going to react to all of this. I’d honestly prefer to tell them only after my desensitization is finished."
"Well, there’s been so much going on in my family lately that I doubt anyone will even notice the change."
"Yeah, I can imagine. With River being back and with Rain’s wedding…"