Chapter 49 Levi #3
He drops into a crouch and works my boots off, one at a time, heel then toe, and sets them down carefully instead of flinging them, because he won’t leave a mess even now. My socks go the same way, peeled off easy. Then he’s back up, his hands at my belt.
“These next.” He gets the buckle open, then the button, then the zip, watching my face, checking I’m still in the room with him and not halfway back in that press chair. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I get out.
“You tell me the second you’re not.”
“That’s not going to happen,” I tell him. “I’m okay with anything you want to do.”
His eyes flick up to mine, and he smiles. He hooks his thumbs in the waist of my jeans and drags them down, going to a crouch with them. I put a hand on his shoulder to keep my feet and step out, one leg, then the other. He lays the jeans over the chair.
Just my shorts left now, and him still in his clothes, down on one knee in front of me. My cock is already tenting the thin cotton, and he can see it.
“You’re hard for me,” he says, and hooks his fingers in the last of it and takes that too.
My cock springs free, thick and flushed, the head already wet and shining. He stays down a second, both hands warm on the backs of my thighs, just staring up at me — at my cock, at my balls drawn up tight — and I have to lock my knees to stand steady.
“Your turn,” I tell him.
He stands and lets me undress him. I lift his shirt up over his head and put my palms flat on all that smooth skin. Open his belt, his slacks, until there’s nothing left between us. His cock is heavy and hard against my stomach when I pull him close, the head slick already.
We end up tangled down into his bed. His weight settles over me and I reach down between us, wrapping my hand around his cock. I want to make him feel good, to be worth the day he spent bleeding on my account. His hand closes over mine gently, and moves it away.
“Levi, wait up.” He props up over me on one elbow. Even in the dark I can feel him looking at me. “I want to ask you a question first. And I want the truth out of you.”
My stomach tightens in a bad way. “Okay.”
“The other night. You started to tell me something and you stopped. You said there were things you hadn’t done. That you weren’t as experienced as me.” His thumb moves back and forth on my hip. “Tell me what you meant by that.”
I turn my face away so I don’t have to say it looking at him.
“It’s not much of a story. I’ve been with men. Some. Not a lot. It was always the quick, dirty kind of thing. On the road, in the dark, fast, secretive. One time the crew brought a guy on for a couple of cities and he was gone by the third. That kind of thing.”
Dante doesn’t jump in to fill the silence. He just waits, his hand on my hip. The waiting is what pulls the rest of it up out of me.
“Nothing that ever made it into the daylight,” I say. “Nothing anybody had to think about beforehand, or get ready for. You did it and it was done.”
“And afterwards?” he asks.
“After, I was alone. Nobody hung around. Not even ten minutes. There wasn’t any of this.
” I don’t have a name for what this is, him propped over me in the warm dark taking his time, so I let it go.
“After it was over, I’d be back in the dark by myself, like it didn’t happen.
It’d leave me feeling worse than before. ”
I stop. The shame’s got a hand around my throat now.
“Worse how.”
I make myself say it, looking at the door instead of at him.
“Like they were collecting it. As if I was a trophy and they were hunting.” It’s ugly out loud and I say it anyway.
“Every one of them came at me first. Always. They’d get me off alone somewhere and offer, real generous about it, hey, let me do this, like they were doing me a kindness.
A blowjob, a hand, whatever they wanted to be able to say they did to me.
And I let them, because I was lonely and starved enough to take it and too scared to ever be the one asking first. But it wasn’t me they were after.
It was Lee Streeter. They wanted to be the guy who blew Lee Streeter in the backseat of a tour bus. Something to brag about later.”
I can’t bear to see his eyes. I hate what he must be thinking about me. I keep going anyway.
“And it only ever ran the one way. Nobody wanted anything back from me and I never had the nerve to give it if they did. So I’d take what they were offering and then lie there after feeling used.
” I finally get up the nerve to turn and look at him.
“And I’d hate myself over it for weeks. Every single time.
Because I didn’t know how to want it the right way. ”
That’s more than I’ve told a living soul. The shame almost choked it out of me but he has a right to know. It’s out and I can’t call it back.
“Levi, look at me,” he says and he waits until I do.
“Those men wanted a story. That’s a cheap thing to want, and not one bit of it was ever about you.
” His hand comes up to the side of my face, thumb along my cheekbone.
“I’m sorry that happened to you. You were a young guy alone on a bus, taking the only thing anyone ever offered, because no one offered you the rest. That’s not yours to be ashamed of.
It was done to you. You deserve much more than that. ”
My throat closes up and I can’t get a word out.
“Hear me on the rest. This goes both directions between us or it doesn’t go at all.
I’m not a guy who takes and rolls over. And when it’s finished, I’m not going anywhere, and you’re not by yourself after.
Not ever again. That’s mine now, you understand?
The after belongs to me. I’ll take care of you. ”
“You shouldn’t have to—”
“I’m not done. Here’s the standing rule, so you quit guessing.
We only ever do what feels good to you. If something doesn’t, you say so and we stop, right there.
There’ll be no pressure, no talking you into it, or you trying to get through it.
You enjoy it as much as I do or we don’t do it.
Period. That’s the rule.” He brushes the hair back off my forehead.
“I’m not a guy gone by the third city or a one-night stand.
I’ll be here in the morning, and the morning after that one, so there’s no rush.
We’re not doing everything tonight. We’re a long way from that. ”
My eyes are filling up and I blink hard.
“I need you to trust me,” he says. “Can you do that?”
“Yeah. I’ve always trusted you. From the very beginning I knew you were a man of your word. You’re the only person I’ve ever been able to say that about.”
“That’s what I want to hear.” He kisses me deeply, and I feel it go all the way down. “Lie back. Tonight you let me do the taking care part.”
He starts down my body and he takes his time about it. His mouth moves down my throat, over my chest, down my stomach that won’t quit jumping under his mouth. By the time he settles between my legs I’m already trembling. My cock is hard and leaking, my balls tight.
He wraps his hand around my cock first, stroking from base to tip, thumb sliding over the wet head, and I let out a sound I couldn’t stop if I tried. He strokes me like he’s got all night to do only this, watching my face, reading it. Then he leans down and takes me in his mouth.
Fuck, his mouth is perfect. Hot and wet. He sucks me deep, tongue flat against the underside, and my balls draw up harder.
“You taste so good.” He comes up, his hand still moving on my cock, spit and precum making it easy. “I only got a taste of you that first night. This time I’m not stopping.”
He goes back down. Mouth and hand together. I forget about everything but the wet heat of him and the sight of him with my cock in his mouth. My hand finds his hair and I grip it tight while he sucks me deeper, cheeks hollowed, tongue pressing firm under the head every time he pulls up.
He comes off again and reaches for the drawer. I hear the cap of the lube bottle click open.
“I want to show you how something feels,” he says.
“Only if you want it. I’m going to use my fingers, that’s all.
No more than two, and only as far as you like it.
” His hand keeps stroking my cock slow while he says it, keeping me right there where it’s easy.
“You say the word and I stop, and we don’t go one inch farther than that tonight.
Do you want me to? All you need to do is say no and we won’t. ”
My heart’s going hard. But it’s him, and I said I trust him. I meant it, and God help me I want it bad. I want everything there could be with Dante. I can’t imagine there ever being a time when I told him not to touch me.
“Yeah,” I get out. “Fuck, yes. I want it.”
“If it gets to be too much, you tell me. Promise me because I will never hurt you.”
“I will.”
His hand slides under me, palm warm against the bare curve of my ass. He lifts my hips just enough to get both hands under me, then starts stroking. His palms drag over the heavy muscle of each cheek, kneading, spreading.
He doesn’t rush. He strokes and then dips into the crease where cheek meets thigh.
He spreads me open just enough that the cool air of the room brushes the heat trapped between.
The pads of his fingers trace my crack, up and down, never pressing in, just barely touching the sensitive skin on either side.
My thighs tighten around his shoulders. A low sound rolls out of my throat before I can stop it.
“God, Dante.”
He keeps going. Both hands now, kneading, spreading, stroking the full length of my crack with the flat of his fingers while his thumbs dig into the dense muscle of my cheeks. Every pass brings him closer to where I need him, and every pass stops short.
When he drags a single fingertip right up the center and stops, my cock, already leaking against my stomach, kicks hard.