Chapter 6 Oxley
OXLEY
I had it all together right up until he turned to face me. Then it was over. One look at him and I couldn’t keep my hands to myself. I’ve never lost control like that. Never have I ever touched someone without permission.
On his feet, he’s six inches shorter than me, at least. His eyes are bright and bashful. His skin is soft. The week’s growth on his face is scruffy, but also silky. I want to run my fingers through it more than ever as I try to keep my distance.
There’s been one thing very clear since the moment I heard his scream—I need this man. Something inside me just demands that he’s mine. The problem is that I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how to make that happen.
On a good day, I can’t read a fucking person if my life depended on it.
Never mind interacting with them without someone looking at me like I’m weird.
I’m used to it. That’s just the kind of person I am.
My IQ is high, but my lack of social skills and ability to communicate are just as clear as my intelligence.
This man hasn’t looked at me quite the same way others have. Sometimes, I think I see a softness in his expression, but as much as I try to read what it means to have a meaningful friendship or relationship with someone, it’s very different putting it into practice.
Mostly, I’ve stopped trying. There are people in my life who accept me the way I am, and I try to count that as enough.
When I’m feeling the need for release and I can’t manage to scratch that itch myself, there are clubs and whatever.
Life is too complicated to be something I’m not every day.
So I don’t hide my ‘quirks’ or whatever.
When this man turns to face me, dripping wet, dick semi-hard, and his cheeks flushed, I don’t know what to say. Words fail me. I drop into the puddle of water and press my face into his stomach, filling my lungs with his fresh scent. God, I want this man!
His fingers tangle in my hair, and I’m positive I feel something from him.
Not just his cockhead brushing my chin, but there’s something in his touch, in his voice when he says my name.
As much as the need in me to hear him say yes is screaming, his scent has rendered me silent.
It makes me lightheaded. Needy. Desperate.
That’s all I can take. My name on his lips does me in, and I drop my head so I can swallow his dick. His groan is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. His hands tighten in my hair, pulling me tighter. I can feel his body curl around me as he leans forward on his toes.
I keep his hips firmly in my grasp so he doesn’t fall as I take this man to the back of my throat and suck him.
“Fuck, Ox, god,” he rambles. A string of words that don’t necessarily mean anything except that I’m doing this right.
He likes my mouth. The way my tongue moves over his cock. He likes how I suck him.
My cock has been interested for days and sees this as an opportunity to get involved. It strains in my pants, and fuck, it isn’t long before tasting him just isn’t enough.
Pulling my mouth off him, I get to my feet and sweep him into my arms. Somehow, I manage to still be mindful of his leg, which is fortunate. Hurting him would tear me apart. I lay him on the bed and dig around in my side table. There’s lube here somewhere… ah.
He’s breathless, face flushed as he watches me. When I’m naked, his eyes drop to my dick, and I hear a little moan from his lips. All hesitation falls away completely as he reaches for me when I move toward him.
I climb over him, rolling him onto his side so his injured leg is up. I’m sloppy and far too hasty as I push my fingers into his tight ass. Lubing him. Stretching him. Teasing his prostate. He moans, pushing his ass back against me, taking my fingers inside him.
“So needy,” I murmur, more to myself than to him.
He groans. “Yes. Please, Ox.”
“Oxley,” I say out of habit and pull my fingers from his body. I cover my cock with lube and then push against his hole. His body resists, but only for a minute.
As I start sinking into him, I wrap an arm under his ribs, curling around his stomach to hold him in place. My other is moved under his trash-bag-wrapped leg, carefully holding it up and out of the way.
“Oh god,” he whines, pressing his butt backward, urging me in. “You’re so big.”
I glance down between us. I’m not really that big. Maybe he’s just small. Either way, I’ll take it, and it’s not long before I’m buried inside his body. Surrounded by his heat and reveling in the way his ass contracts, squeezing me. He says my name over and over.
It’s a chant that spurs me on. Urges me to drive deep into him. His hand wraps around my wrist, and the other curls up to grip my hair tightly. With every thrust, that hand tightens, and he moans, grunts, and begs for more.
I give him everything. Everything. When I’m too close, I drop my hand from his thigh and reach between his legs, curling his knee further to his chest. I’m sure this strains his leg and the sutures, but I need his cock in my hand.
His whines get louder. Needier. His body jerks and shakes. My name doesn’t stop filling the room. I feel his hot load cover my hand as a strangled cry leaves him. When he’s done, I grip his hip as another anchor point and continue to fuck into him.
He doesn’t ask me to stop. His moans continue, his body jerking and shaking. Finally, I bury my face in his hair and give him my load. It’s a moment too late that I remember I didn’t use a condom. I don’t have any by my bed, and leaving him right then was just not something I could do.
We remain tangled. Connected. I feel his heartbeat racing and wish that the monitor were hooked up so I could hear it, too. After some time, I pull my cock from him and scoot back just a little so I can see my cum trickle from his spent hole.
God, that’s hot. Why is it so hot?
Carefully, I guide his leg down. I need to unwrap it. Instead, I bring both my arms around him and hold him in a straitjacket embrace. I grip his wrist, but he twists his hand out. I’m about to pull away, thinking he needs me to give him space, but he links our fingers together instead.
Once again, I bury my face in his hair. He might want another shower. Maybe I can convince him not to, so my cum can stay in his ass for a while longer.
We’re quiet for a very long time, and I start to get lost in my head. I should have made it last longer. I should have pleased him better. The ‘should haves’ run through my head until his voice breaks into my thoughts.
“Are you going to tell me who you are now?”
I sigh. “I’ve already told you. You’ve even said my name at least a hundred times.” Or a variation of it anyway.
He huffs. “Believe it or not, Oxley doesn’t tell me who you are. Are you a criminal? Is that your profession? Did you just happen to be in the wrong place at the right time to rescue me, or do you always bring randos back to your room and nurse them back to health? Who. Are. You?”
Oh. Which part to begin with? Which question is most important?
“While I’m not a criminal exactly, I suppose not everything I do is legal. I wasn’t there by chance when you were shot. I was there trailing the gang that shot you. Sometimes we’re able to intercept the violence when they know that they have opposition with guns like they do.”
“You had a gun?” he interrupts.
“Yes.”
He shivers.
“I never bring anyone home with me. In the eight years I’ve lived here, there have been four people who have come into my space. You’re one of them.”
His breath catches. I feel him swallow. When he wiggles, I grudgingly loosen my hold, and he rolls over. My hand drops to his leg, making sure that he’s not in a position where any pressure will be put on it.
“Why me?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.
Something feels really heavy on my chest. I lick my lips and shake my head a little. “I don’t have an answer for that. Other than that I was drawn to you. I am drawn to you.”
You’re mine.
His lips are parted, but he doesn’t speak.
I try to find another explanation. A better one, but I can’t find words to explain how I feel.
Feelings have always been somewhat abstract and difficult for me to explain and interpret.
Right now, I feel a little desperate, wanting him to understand but not knowing how to articulate what’s inside me.
I’m completely and totally shocked when his mouth locks onto mine.
There’s a moment where I freeze, but then the hand I have on his leg moves up to the back of his head, and I’m kissing him with every ounce of everything in me.
Hoping I can pour those confusing, unidentifiable feelings into him, so he understands.
“Thank you for saving me,” he whispers, pressing another kiss to my lips.
I want to lick him all over. To memorize every inch of him. I want to keep him.
“Thank you for bringing me home with you.”
My breath releases. “I can be a bit much sometimes. I’m told I have some quirks, and I’m a little… weird.”
“Ox…”
“Oxley.” I press my lips to his since that seems to be something we do now. Thankfully. I was going to lose my mind if I couldn’t kiss him.
“I’ll try not to—”
“No,” he says, turning to angle his body toward mine a little more but stopping when he flinches. My hold on him tightens, trying to keep him in place. “Don’t do that. I don’t want a version of you if it’s not the real version. Just authentic Oxley, okay?”
I nod. “Oxley Van Doren,” I say, because it sounded like he needed a full name for that last sentence. Authentic Oxley Van Doren.
His breath catches, and for a minute, he doesn’t exhale. “Van Doren?” he asks.
“Yeah. Are you familiar with Van Doren Technologies?”
He laughs. “You’d have to live on the moon not to be. Even then, I’m sure the company that brought them to the moon and made it possible would be Van Doren.”
Hmm, maybe he knows about the newest partnership with NASA…
“Do they know you fight gangs?”
“Of course. Jalon oversees it all.”
“You mean Jalon, the king of Van Doren?”
I snort. “Please never call him king to his face. He can already be unbearable.” It’s kind of true.
Both aspects of it. Jalon didn’t start Van Doren Technologies.
It’s been around for three generations. But Jalon has made it the beast it is today, with a tentacle in nearly every industry around the world. “But yes, that Jalon.”
“You know him? You’re related?” His eyes are wide.
“He’s my oldest brother, so… yes.”
He looks at me, completely astonished. I let him stare for a minute before I need to know if this bothers him. “Is that okay?”
His laughter sounds a little hysterical. “Is it okay?!” He pffts. “Why wouldn’t it be? You can’t change that stuff anyway.”
“No,” I say, and I don’t have an answer for the first question. So I don’t answer.
He sighs and presses his lips to mine again. “Kiss me, Oxley Van Doren.”
I do. For a very long time.