27. Damon
Damon
Liam and I slept for two hours, and I’ve never slept better in my life. When I woke up, his scent was all around me, his gigantic biceps kept me close, and I didn’t even mind the exorbitant amount of body heat…because Liam is mine, and it’s finally starting to feel like it.
There are still hurdles to cross. I have to tell him about the strings I pulled, and of course, he’ll have to talk to his dad at some point. Then there’s the hurdle of me coming out to my family, but that feels less like a hurdle every day. Besides, Liam’s right. Who cares what anyone else thinks?
As I’m changing to go out tonight, because apparently Liam was serious about the whole senior prom redo, he comes into my bathroom looking edible as fuck, and I stop mid-shave to rake my gaze over him.
“Maybe we should skip the dancing and just get naked again?”
His lips turn up at one corner, giving me the cockiest, sexiest smile.
“We have a whole lifetime for that. Tonight, we dance.” He closes the door behind him, and I arch my brow. “Down, Cujo. I’m just making sure you’re wearing normal-people clothes tonight and not another suit.”
I laugh as I resume shaving.
“It’s jeans and a button-up that I’ll leave untucked. Does that suit you?” I ask.
“Mmm, does it ever.”
He moves to stand behind me and trails his fingers along the indentations at my hips. They aren’t overly pronounced like his, but I have no complaints about my body type. It obviously works for him.
“You keep that up, and either I’m going to cut myself, or we’re never leaving this cabin,” I tell him seriously.
He bites my neck playfully, and my cock twitches beneath my towel, which of course, he catches.
“You keep that up, and we definitely aren’t leaving.” I’m about to argue that we should just stay in then, when he kisses my cheek and whispers, “But I really want to take you out, show you off, and dance with you in my arms like I should have that night at senior prom.”
Swoon.
I finish getting ready, spray on cologne, make sure my hair is behaving, slip into my jeans, and true to my word, I leave my button-up untucked.
Knowing Liam will keep me on that dance floor for hours despite my lack of rhythm, I go ahead and preemptively roll my shirt sleeves up to my forearms, and then go in search of my… boyfriend.
Turning the corner, I come to a dead stop.
Liam is in black jeans with rips across his thighs.
I’m not sure if they would be considered skinny jeans, but they aren’t baggy, and they taper at his ankles.
He’s wearing a tight white T-shirt and white tennis shoes.
Around his neck is the silver chain I bought him for his eighteenth birthday because he was going through a jewelry phase.
“Fucking hell, Liam,” is all I manage to say before I crash into him, one hand around his back, one across the back of his neck as I kiss him like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do.
He returns my passion, gripping me hard.
I feel his cock hardening along his thigh, and I groan, twisting my hips, rubbing him until my dick perks up as well.
Finally, he pulls away with a smile. “Turning each other on this easily could be problematic,” he teases.
“I beg to differ,” I pant, reaching forward to squeeze him through his jeans, but he catches my hand.
“When we get home,” he says. “Let’s go on our first date.”
I’m about to be out in public, on a date, dancing and grinding against the love of my life for the first time ever. As much as I want to stay home, there’s freedom, fear, and excitement about taking this step, and I want to experience it.
“Let’s go,” I say with a nod, realizing for only the second time in our friendship-turned-dating relationship, I have no idea where we’re going. “Do you have a place in mind?”
Liam smiles as he tosses me the keys.
“I sure do. And it’s already pulled up in Google Maps,” he says proudly.
Confident, responsible Liam is a huge fucking turn-on.
We climb into the Range Rover, already needing four-wheel drive, and I navigate very slowly toward our destination, smiling in relief when we pull up outside a saloon-style bar.
“Are we line dancing?” I ask. “Because I have no idea how.”
Liam chuckles. “Baby, you don’t really know how to do any kind of dance, but no, it’s a regular bar, just in a cooler building.”
I’d argue that I can dance, except he’s right. I have zero rhythm, but I’ll wing it for a chance to watch Liam move his hips to a beat.
Upon entering the bar, I like the vibe immediately.
A carefully cultivated blend of the Western culture out here, coupled with modern lines and lighting.
There aren’t any strobe lights or stripper poles, just a well-stocked bar, a moderately sized dance floor, and off to the side, several pool tables currently in use.
There are also stalls for darts, helping contribute to the Western vibe, even though the music being piped through the speakers is a catchy dance remix of a current pop hit.
Liam takes my hand and threads us through the crowd.
It’s not a gay bar, and a twinge of discomfort nags at me as I think about the slurs, stares, and reactions Taylor has gotten over the years.
God, my brother has way bigger balls than I’ve ever given him credit for.
He doesn’t even bat a fake eyelash when he grabs his boyfriend’s ass in public or offers him an affectionate kiss at the dinner table.
Maybe being more like Taylor isn’t such a bad thing after all.
“What do you want to drink, baby?” Liam asks.
I laugh. “I swear all we’ve done on this trip is drink and sleep.”
“Don’t forget the orgasms. We drink, sleep, and come. But it’s a vacation. That’s what we’re supposed to do,” he replies.
Huh, he’s not wrong.
“I’ll just have a beer,” I say as he places the order for two light beers. Liam gets hit on while we’re waiting because Liam gets hit on everywhere.
“Thank you. I’m flattered, but I’m here with my boyfriend,” he responds to the girl respectfully, turning to look at me.
I’ve never felt prouder in my entire life.
That is, until the girl mutters, “What a fucking waste,” loud enough for Liam to hear, and his face falls.
I’m about to say something, because fuck this bitch, when Liam beats me to it. Cocking his head to the side, he says, “Let me get this right…you think spending my night with the man I love is a waste because I’m not straight? Or because I turned you down specifically?”
A look of shock passes across the girl’s face. She’s clearly not used to being called out for the words that spew from her mouth.
At a loss for an answer, and deciding it’s not worth having her ass handed to her by Liam again, she pushes the friends that are with her further down the bar without another word.
I’m holding my breath, waiting for Li’s reaction, but before he says anything, I release my breath because he’s repeatedly proven that he can handle the truth, and the ugly truth is that there are still so many small-minded people in the world who refuse to embrace love in all its forms.
Next thing I know, Liam’s giant hand is cupping my face as he leans down, brushing his lips across mine.
“I should probably just do this all night so there’s no more confusion,” he says.
“Fine by me,” I breathe.
We’re locked in a public-appropriate display of affection when the bartender yells, “Drink up, lovebirds,” and slides our beers across the bar.
We take a few minutes to drink our beers before making our way to the floor. I have plans to either bring my beer with me or finish it, but that plan goes to hell when Please Don’t Stop the Music by Rihanna starts blaring through the speakers.
Liam takes my glass out of my hand, sets it on the bar, and promptly pulls me to the middle of the crowd of bodies on the floor. The man has an unhealthy obsession with the artist.
I do my best to stay in my lane and sway back and forth.
The most I can hope for is to be close to the beat and not embarrass the shit out of Liam, but within thirty seconds, he’s drawing stares.
Like, people have stopped dancing to watch his moves, which means they’re also getting an eyeful of my uncoordinated ass.
When it gets to the line about putting hands on a body, Li grabs my hands and runs them all the way down his chest, over his abs, past his belt, and removes them right before I land where I want to be. But he doesn’t let me go; instead, he pulls my hands up and wraps my arms around his neck.
I happily leave them in place when he releases his grip on them and moves one hand to my lower back, pulling my groin flush against his. He’s expertly wedged his right thigh between mine, so we’re basically riding each other’s legs, and when he rolls his hips, my eyes roll back in my head.
“Ohmyfuckinggod,” yells a girl dancing next to us. “That’s sooo fucking hot.”
She’s right. It is.
I try to keep up with Li’s movements, but keep fucking it up, until his voice is at my ear.
“I’ve got you. Just follow my lead.”
By the end of the song, I’m able to feel his rhythm and can anticipate his next direction easily enough to move my hips along with him. I stop thinking and just let myself feel and absorb this moment.
But when we’ve been at it long enough for beads of sweat to start pooling in the hollow at the base of his throat, it’s hard to stay in the moment and not think ahead to getting back home and licking every drop of sweat from every inch of his skin.
When the song changes to Ordinary by Alex Warren, a lot of people leave the dance floor, choosing to rest and hydrate during the slower song.
I assume Liam will want a break as well, but as I begin to pull away, he grips my waist tighter, pulling my hand to rest over his heart with his fingers wrapped around mine.
I look up at him and roll my lips inward, trying to get my trembling under control when he starts mouthing the words to me, and I feel the intimacy and love of every moment we’ve ever shared like a tidal wave of emotion that hits me right in the chest.
Even though the song is slower, Liam continues to lead us as we sway on this dance floor, totally wrapped up in each other.
And this easily becomes the best night of my life.