13. Tyler
13
TYLER
"Harder."
Looking at Isaac uncertainly, I punch the bag harder, giving it all I've got.
" Harder. "
Damn. He's been in a weird mood ever since I told him I was going back to my classes this week. I thought he'd be happy, seeing as he's been trying to force me to be more social lately. Now that the bruises have faded enough, even though they're a god-awful color, I can cover them pretty easily with a bit of concealer. We got through brunch and a ton of errands yesterday without even one person staring at me. My teachers have been accommodating with my assignments, but I'm guaranteed to get a better grade if I can be part of the presentations this week.
"Again."
"Can we be done now?"
"If you're going to defend yourself, you need to know how to throw a punch. You've got the form down, but you need to put more power behind it. You can't hurt this bag. Believe me, I've tried. So hit the damn thing."
Frustrated and irritated over his pissy mood, I throw one final punch at the bag, imagining his face there. But I'm not actually mad at him, so I imagine my dad's face next instead. And then Guy's. And I keep punching, over and over, until I'm out of breath and tears are threatening.
"Whoa, whoa. Okay. We can be done," Isaac says, his tone gentle. He pulls me into a hug, but I'm too tense.
"Why are you mad at me?" I ask him. "Is it because I'm going back to class?"
"What? No! I'm really proud of you, and I think you should go back. It'll be good for you."
I take a moment to process his words, trying to figure out what could be bothering him, then. "Are you ready for me to move back home? Because if you need space, I understand." I just don't want this to be over.
"I'm going to be really honest with you right now," he says seriously, and I step back, steeling myself. "I'd be happier if you stayed. It's probably weird and clingy, but I couldn't care less if you ever move back home. I like having you here, but if it's too much for you and you need space, I also understand. I just need you to be safe."
I just need you to be safe.
"Tyler, listen to everything I just said, not whatever you're reprocessing right now. I like you here, with me." He takes a breath. "I like waking up next to you. I like the way we can both work on our own things but still be near each other. I like how we joke and play around, and I really, really like our lessons."
"I like those, too," I mutter, earning me a laugh. This time, when he pulls me into a hug, I relax into it.
"I'm not mad at you. I am worried, though."
"You don't need to be," I say. "I'm pretty sure I won’t have to grapple with anyone in any of my classes." His expression turns serious again, and I can hear his unsaid thought— I was pretty sure I wasn't going to have to grapple with anyone last Friday, either.
To deflect, I lean back, grab his arm and pull while kicking out my leg to trip him. He's either truly not expecting it, or he likes letting me win, because he's flat on his back in the next second, blinking up at me with surprise. I drop down on top of him, straddling his waist. He looks up at me and makes an impressed face that spreads into a grin. His eyes flick to my mouth, and he wets his lips. That's all the invitation I need. My mouth is on him in an instant, and then we're making out, hard and frantic, rolling around the floor while we pretend to grapple.
"What's our next lesson, Mr. Casey?" I ask, panting, once I get control again. I grind down on his lap, making sure he damn well understands what kind of lesson I mean. "Or should we do a review? Because I like the taste of your–"
Isaac rolls me over so that I’m flat on my stomach, his body laying over mine. His cock presses against my ass from behind, and he has one hand in my hair. He leans down as if to whisper something dirty, something I’d usually eat up like my favorite ice cream flavor. But somewhere in the middle of the surprise and flare of arousal, there's a familiarity to the position that has bile rising in my throat. I freeze on instinct and a small whimper escapes.
I don't know how he knows the difference, or how he can tell that something's not right, but Isaac is off me in an instant, pulling me up and into his lap.
It was just a moment. An innocent moment. Not even close to the way things were back in that alley, but a moment is apparently all it takes to tear away some of my already fragile sanity. It's not enough that he already haunts my dreams, that I can't even turn on my phone, or that I can’t go home without worrying he'll be there. Now the memory of what he did to me is infiltrating my mind, confusing my body and ruining what should be a fun, playful, sexy moment with Isaac.
Isaac holds me, making comforting shushing sounds, his low voice telling me it'll be alright. It's his reaction, more than my own, that has me in tears. How is it that someone can be this good? I don't deserve him.
"I'm okay," I say through snot and tears. "I don't know what that was."
"It's called a freeze response. It's common after a traumatic event, especially for people who might have PTSD."
"I don't have PTSD."
"I'm not saying you do, but also… you might. Your nightmares–"
"Are you a therapist now?"
He scoffs. "No, obviously not. But I do know you're going through something. And I know there's a lot you're not telling anyone."
"I wasn't sexually assaulted," I say, needing to remind him of that fact. "So I don't know why that … threw me off."
"Even if you hadn't been through any sort of trauma, not everyone wants to have anal sex. It's not something you ever have to do."
"I know I don't have to do anything. I know, without a doubt in the world, that you'd never do something I didn’t want you to. I didn't even have to say no, and look how quickly you stopped," I point out. "And I don't think I'm afraid of anal. Or at least, I don't want to be."
"That's where talking it out comes in, right? We can talk about what you're comfortable with. Have you ever, you know, touched yourself there?"
My face flames, and I have to remind myself several times that I'm a mature adult who can handle talking about sex. About all the different aspects of sex. About my body. About my asshole.
"A little," I admit quietly. "But it didn't really do anything for me."
"What did you use? A toy, or just your fingers?"
If it wasn't for the fact that I can feel him growing hard asking me these questions, I'd be mortified. But his obvious arousal makes it different. All of a sudden, it's not a discussion about my trauma and fears. It's a lesson.
"My fingers. Er—one finger. I just felt pressure, nothing exciting."
"Hmm. You probably didn't have a good angle to stimulate your prostate."
"And, um…what angle is good for that?" I know what a prostate is, and roughly where it should be, but the search wasn't exciting enough to keep trying. I liked using my free hand to play with my balls instead. This is a lesson I could easily get on board with, though. "Can you show me?"
He thinks for a moment. "On you or on myself?"
Oh, damn. That's a hard one to answer. Because as much as I want to feel it, I think I want to watch him even more. Or… "Maybe both? Show me how to find it on you, and go from there?"
My eyes widen in surprise Isaac lets out a sound that's a cross between a choke and a breathy whimper, instead of responding with words like a normal person.
He clears his throat, "Yeah. We can do that. Where are you going?"
"Uh, to the bedroom. I feel like we should be naked for this, and I'm not really into exhibitionism. I don't think."
Glancing at the floor to ceiling windows, and the afternoon light filtering in, he chuckles. "So we're doing this now, then?"
"No time like the present!" I call, making a beeline for the bedroom.
"Eager, are we?"
"I don't really understand what the whole top/bottom dynamic is supposed to be or what the logistics are. I get that you're the big guy, and I'm the little guy, and you give off big top energy. It feels special that I might get the opportunity to put something inside you, even if it's just a finger."
"Well, first—you're bigger than me." His eyes land on the front of my underwear.
"I think that’s just a proportion thing," I say. "It looks bigger because I'm so scrawny."
"You're not scrawny, you're perfect. Everything about you is perfect. That cock is perfect. As for dynamics and logistics… there are no rules."
I stop stripping and lift an eyebrow, waiting for him to give me more explanation.
"I top most of the time, but that's usually because it's what people have wanted from me. In the right situation, I'm versatile."
"What does that mean, the right situation ?"
"I probably wouldn't bottom for a stranger."
Oh. "Can I ask why?"
"You can ask me anything you want." He looks a little uncomfortable as he takes a seat on the end of the bed, already fully naked. The tease wasn't wearing any underwear, it seems. " I had a bad experience that kind of put a bad taste in my mouth, so I feel like I need a little extra trust to be able to relax enough."
"What happened?" Maybe I shouldn't ask, but if we're standing here naked, discussing our trauma, I might as well find out if there's anything I should know before he lets me experiment on him.
"We'd both had too much to drink, and he was too impatient to prep me enough."
I might not know what that feels like, but my body clenches with sympathy-pain and anger. "Is it dumb that I want to know who it was so I can gouge their eyeballs out?"
"I know how that feels," he says pointedly. "But I actually knew the guy, and I don't think he did it on purpose."
Guilt flashes through me, and I look away. Because I knew the guy too.
"I like bottoming when it's someone who's paying attention and cares about my comfort as well as their own pleasure."
"It's fucked up that it's even something that needs to be said."
"According to my sister, it's a man thing. She has the same issue with guys."
"Well, I don't want to be like that. So teach me how to do it right, okay?"
He grins, but there's a touch of sadness in it. I want to tell him I don't plan on utilizing these skills on anyone else, but what if that's too much?
"Alright, well, first things first—lube." He leans over and pulls a small bottle from between the wall and mattress.
"Has that been there this whole time?"
Isaac laughs. "Gotta keep it handy."
"It's nice to know you're ready for visitors, I guess," I say, trying to laugh off the idiotic surge of jealousy that flashes through me.
"I meant handy very literally," he says, laughing. "I've never brought anyone here before. And I haven't gone home with anyone since I moved here, either."
"Okay," I say, pretending like that's not information I need to know.
"I'm also on PrEP, and get regular health screenings. My last one was just before I moved here. Everything was negative." He must notice how surprised I am that he's telling me all of this. "It's important to talk about with any of your sexual partners, especially if you're considering unprotected sex."
"Are we considering unprotected sex?" I ask, my cheeks flushing.
"It's not something I've done outside of a committed relationship, and I've never really had one of those before," he laughs awkwardly. "That being said, I can show you my most recent results or get re-tested if it's something you want."
He doesn't do relationships. Don't be a loser!
"Better safe than sorry, right?"
"Some people also prefer condoms to the mess."
I think about what he means by mess, and feel a wave of heat flash from my head to my toes and back up again. The rush of blood has my cock going from half-mast to steel pipe.
"Okay, I have to know what that look is for."
"What look?" I croak, because my voice gets caught in the sensation of all my veins throbbing. This can't be normal. I might need medical intervention.
"Tyler, whatever it is, you can tell me."
I clear my throat and shake my head. "No, I really don't think I can."
"I'm about to lay out on this bed and let you get up close and personal with my asshole," he deadpans.
I snort, but also my cock twitches. Groaning, I look over at him with pleading eyes, only to realize he’s not looking at my face anymore. He's staring at my rock-hard dick.
Isaac crooks his finger in a come here movement, and I obey. As soon as I'm within arm's length, he takes hold of my cock and guides me closer, right into his hot, wet mouth. My head falls back, my hands burrowing in his hair as he swallows me down all the way to the root. He pops off and looks up at me.
"Tell me," he says, then goes back to rendering me brainless.
"I… I… I think I like the idea of… mess. Unnghh ."
Isaac moans around my cock, and I feel the vibration in my balls. He taps the inside of my thigh, and I widen my stance. Both of his hands get in on the action, one stroking around my base while the other rolls and tugs on my balls. A finger moves behind them and presses into my taint. The added pressure makes me gasp, and I almost come right there on the spot. Isaac pulls off me with a smirk, then pulls me down to kiss him. He scoots backwards on the bed and I follow him, moving over his body. His hard cock presses against my stomach, and I divert my attention to suck on it instead of his tongue.
He spreads himself out and allows me to lay between his thighs so I can get close to my favorite new toy. I think I like his even more than I like my own, if I'm being honest. I like that I can bring a man like Isaac Casey to his knees. He's big and powerful, but he's mine when I have him like this, and I can make him feel as good as he makes me feel.
His cock is beautiful. It juts up from his strong body, thick and proud and veiny in a way that makes my mouth water. There's a slight curve in it, and the mushroomed head is purple and wet with pre-cum. The notion that he's leaking for me makes me feel big and powerful, too.
I lick up the base, tracing the veins with my tongue, before taking it as far into my mouth as I can. He can take mine farther, so I try to go deeper the way he did with me. I gag a little, but keep trying.
A hand comes down to cup my face, massaging over my jaw with his thumb.
"You don't have to take it all at once, deep throating isn't a requirement."
"I want to make you feel good."
"You do, baby. You make me feel so good," he says, guiding my face back down. "Go slow, and do that thing with your tongue around the head.” I obey his request, and he bucks. “ Nyghh, yeah like that. So fucking good." He takes the hand that isn't currently wrapped around his cock, and cool liquid drips over my fingers. A zing of excitement tingles all the way down my spine to my balls.
"Use your fingers to massage around my hole, then when you're ready, press against it with just one finger to start."
Mouth still full of cock, I nod as best I can and dip my hand between us. Isaac widens his legs a little to give me easier access, and my fingers trail up and down his crack. He seems to like the teasing, moaning when I rub small circles around his hole. I want to see what's happening, so I pull off his cock and look at where my fingers are, just as I press one inside. I think for a moment it won't give, but then the tip of my index finger pushes inside. His hole clenches and I watch in fascination as my finger slips in farther, to the first knuckle. It’s almost like he’s sucking me inside his body.
"Good," he breathes. "So good. Now move it around, crook your finger and feel around. It'll feel like—t here . Fuck. That little nub right there. Unghh."
I stroke the spot. It feels like a rounded bulb of soft cartilage that's almost spongy when I press on it. When I move my finger in a beckoning motion, he clenches and moans and asks for more, but I don't know what he wants more of. I move my finger over the spot, rubbing it faster, slower, harder, until he tells me to add another finger. When I do, marveling at the way his body sucks me inside, I notice his cock twitches and spits out more pre-cum whenever I touch his prostate. Readjusting to take him in my mouth again, then find a rhythm with my fingers and mouth until he's rocking his hips and saying he's close.
I understand a few things a lot more clearly the moment he comes undone. One is that I've never wanted to put my cock anywhere more than I want to put it in his hot, tight ass and feel the way his muscles are clenching around my two fingers. I'm pretty sure it would strangle my dick, but it would be worth dying over…probably.
I'm also more aware of my own ass than I’ve ever been. I swear my hole is clenching with his, and I can feel a phantom pressure inside me that says, 'here! touch me here!' . And there's the confirmation that I definitely like the mess, because there's so much of it that I can't swallow it all at once. It dribbles from the sides of my mouth and streams across his hips and I can't decide if I want to lick it all up like a cat or smear it all over myself. Maybe both.
More than anything, though, is the way it feels to make a man like Isaac Casey cry out in a guttural moan that I can feel in my toes. I did that . I made him feel that.
Instinct has me continuing to massage that spot inside him until he stops clenching and pulsing. When I'm ready to pull my fingers out, I watch the way his hole closes in on itself, but stays open the slightest bit. How would it look after it had my cock in there? Would my cum drip out if I didn't use the condom?
The mental image is enough to make my cock jerk violently, and there's nothing I can do to stop the oncoming fountain. Because of the way I'm trying to pinch it off, cum sprays out of me and hits the back of Isaac's thigh, then another spurt paints his ass.
Then, well, the damage is done. In for a penny, in for a pound. So I push up to my knees and jerk myself through the rest of my orgasm, coming all over Isaac's ass. I'm breathless by the time it passes, hunched over between his legs, my eyes glued to the mess I just made.
I might never look him in the eye again. But the visual of his ass painted in my cum?
Yeah… that will live rent-free at the forefront of all my thoughts and memories for the rest of my life.