Chapter 3 #2
He flops down, his gaze meeting mine as I kneel in front of him to pull off his shoes. They tumble to the floor with a thud, and then with shaking fingers, I undo his pants, dragging them down his long legs. I stare as I expose inches of his skin, covered in thick, coarse black hair.
I’ve never touched a man before him, but it doesn’t feel strange, touching him like this now. His skin is warm, and he groans when my fingers graze behind his knees.
He likes it, and fuck, so do I.
His eyes hold mine as he helps me yank his pants all the way off, and when I peel his underwear down, his hard, pierced cock stands at attention.
The metal glints in the light, and I can’t help but wonder what it was like when he got it.
I picture a muscular man holding his dick tenderly before shoving a needle through it.
Did Rome cry out? Did he moan? Was there anyone to kiss him better?
I reach down and stroke the hard length of his cock, eyes locked on his face, watching him as he reacts to my hand.
His hips arch up with his gasp as I tighten my grip on him, his own gaze fixed on my fingers as they circle his dick.
I run my thumb over the tip, nail flicking the metal. I see it tug at the slit, and he sucks in a breath. Before I can keep going, he swats my hand away and takes me by the chin, forcing me to look up at him.
‘Close,’ he signs, mouthing the word, lip trembling like he desperately needs me to understand.
I can’t help but smirk, and his face shows the anger boiling up inside of him. But before he can explode, I pull my underwear off and toss it aside, giving him a good look at my naked body. His fury starts to drain, though heat lingers in his eyes as he drinks me in.
I flex a little, watching his reaction. A blush creeps up over his throat and into his cheeks, and he makes a small, involuntary noise deep in his chest. His eyes trace over every part of me before they finally land on my dick, and he wets his lips as he stares.
Spreading his legs like a needy little slut, his invitation is clear, and Jesus, I want him so badly it hurts. I want him so badly I’m ready to let go right there, untouched, spilling cum on his chest.
I grab onto my dick to keep my orgasm at bay. I know the moment he touches me, I’m not going to last. This is going to be over embarrassingly quick.
Rome lifts a hand and signs something I recognize from class. ‘Are you ready?’
I am…
But also, I’m not. I want to go slow, to savor this, to take my time because I don’t know if I’ll be allowed to have him again after tonight. He might have compromised his morals about fucking a hearing guy the two times before this, but that doesn’t mean he’ll do it again.
I don’t want to rush this. I want to come, and then recover, and come again. And maybe one more time before he bails on me in the morning. I don’t know if my body will be capable of that refractory rate, but I know I’m going to try.
I have to.
I want this—I want him—more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before.
Catching his gaze, I grip his knees and spread his legs further apart, pushing them up toward his chest. He gets the message and quickly holds on to them, exposing his ass to me.
My eyes take in his pink, open hole. It’s so wet. So ready.
‘Good boy.’ I sign it exactly the way Leaf taught me, and Rome makes a disgusted sound, but it morphs into a groan when I press a finger inside of him.
With the lube he’s already used, he takes it easily, his body pulling me in.
His eyes roll into the back of his head as I slide knuckle-deep, losing myself in the feel of him squeezing around me.
I indulge for a moment before pulling out to add another finger, pushing in deep enough to make him gasp, then out again to add a third.
I spread them, fucking him hard enough to hear my skin slapping against his ass with the force of my thrusts.
Rome grunts and groans loudly, unchecked, uncaring. His hips move in time with my hand, and for a moment, I wonder if I can make him come this way. But he doesn’t let me try. He finally snaps, and his hand flies up, tugging my fingers out of him.
‘Now,’ he demands when he lets me go, and I bite my bottom lip, once more letting my eyes roam to his open hole.
My dick is going to go in there. This is a big moment. My first time doing this with a man. And of course, it’s this man. The one looking at me with a mixture of hatred and desire. The man who probably wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire.
Rome looks like if I don’t make a move soon, he’s going to fucking run, and I’m not having that. Not tonight.
I lean forward and guide my cock to his hole. It’s easy after that, to let instinct take over. I hold him by the knees as the head of my dick catches on his rim, and with a single push, I’m inside—as deep as he can take me.
He lets out a feral scream, his cock lurching between us, precum beading around the piercing as I breach him. And then, between two heavy breaths, his body slackens, and I slide all the way home. Our balls slap against each other, my lungs letting out a long breath as I try to hold it together.
Fuck, he feels fantastic around me. Warm and tight.
And raw. Shit. Shit!
I didn’t use a condom.
How could I be so stupid? I know fucking better than that. Thom convinced me to get on PrEP, and I’ve always been careful with my partners, but I don’t know Rome well enough to trust he’s been the same. And he doesn’t know me.
I want to care. Desperately. I don’t want him to hate me for this too, but when I look down at him, Rome seems unbothered by it. In fact, he seems angry that I’ve stopped moving.
His legs link around my back, and his fingers dig into my shoulders. ‘Move,’ he signs, and his heels press into my lower back, forcing me a centimeter deeper.
I groan at the sensation. Everything else is forgotten.
‘More.’ I see his fingers meet in the space between us, and then he adds, ‘Hard.’ He mouths the word so I’ll understand, and it’s such an easy command to obey.
I let my hips arch back, my cock sliding out of him, and then I snap them forward, our skin slapping, his body moving up the bed an inch.
He gasps, his head bobbing. Yes, he mouths at me, just the barest hint of sound with his breath. Yes.
So I do it again and again, our bodies meeting in a frantic fuck, sweat sliding down our skin. His fingers drag down my back, making me cry out, his own screams melding with my own. It carries on forever, an eternity, a never-ending spiral of pleasure that’ll probably kill us both.
And I don’t care. Only, I feel my orgasm start to build, and when I do, I look down at him and see he’s close too.
I can feel it between us, his dick thickening, dribbling precum in rivers.
He slaps a hand over it, gripping it tight, jacking himself as fast as I’m fucking his ass, and I know then that it’s over.
When he comes, his hole tightens around my length, milking my own release from my body.
It’s almost painful, the way I let go. My spine arches, my cock sliding in and out of him as he holds on to me with a viselike grip, and my hands curl into the sheets, ripping one from the corner of the bed as I empty myself into him.
Then suddenly, it’s over. It’s just my softening cock in his ass, my chest on his, my lips moving up and down the thrumming pulse in his neck. The tendrils of pleasure begin to fade, and the cool breeze of the room takes its place.
I don’t know what to say or do, so I do nothing at all.
Rome must be feeling the same confusion. He holds on to me for a moment, and then his hands fall to the sheets next to us.
I take that as my sign to roll off him, and we lie there, our gazes on the ceiling, words unsaid and unsigned. I mean, really, what is there left to say after all that? He was my first, and he just saw me at my most vulnerable.
If he regrets this, it might ruin me. I want to stay silent, to preserve this moment before any of the bad shit happens, but I know I can’t.
We also fucked without a condom, and I need to know if that’s a problem. Not just for him, but for me.
Rolling over, I snag my phone out from my jeans pocket and start to type, watching as Rome moves his hand between his legs, his finger probing at his ass. He swipes his fingers through the cum now leaking out of him before rubbing it into my sheets.
Fuck, that’s hot.
I want to keep staring at him. Hell, I want to take a picture to keep this moment forever, but I don’t. Instead, I type out the question on my phone and hold it toward him.
Me: You been tested?
His eyes flick to it, and he nods and signs slowly, mouthing along, ‘Yes. Test result negative. You?’
I nod my fist, then work hard to spell, ‘PrEP.’
‘Same.’ He lets out a small sigh of relief, and I do the same, relaxing back against the pillow as my breath becomes a heavy weight in my chest.
Does that mean next round we can go just like that again? Because that felt fucking wonderful. It filled a desire in me I hadn’t even realized I’d had until him.
I turn to ask him, but he’s already rolling up to sit, a wince on his face.
Shit, did I hurt him? I want to ask, but before I can even attempt to form signs, he’s on his feet, hobbling toward the bathroom door. I open my mouth to call after him before realizing that would be pointless, and I sag back again as I watch him disappear into the bathroom and close the door.
The lock clicks.
This feels strange and awkward. I’ve never known what to do after hookups like this, which is why I tend to avoid them.
Is it the same with a man? Should I get up and fetch him something to drink or something to eat?
I would, but I’m scared to move from the bed.
What if I do, and he takes that as his sign to leave?
What if he sees it as some kind of rejection?
It would be easier if I could talk to him—if I was further along in ASL—but I’m not.
I have no idea what to do when the bathroom door opens and he appears, walking toward the bed with his gait slightly sideways. For a moment, I hold my breath, waiting to see if he’s going to get his clothes and bail, but he doesn’t.
He slides beneath the covers and flops onto his back, staring at me without a word on his lips or hands.
I want to stay silent too, but I can’t ignore the feeling in my chest. This is all so fucking complicated. This is worse than when Thom started sleeping with Robbie because I’m so much further behind, struggling with the language, and Rome obviously has zero patience for that.
But I can’t ignore the way he makes me feel. Like this thing between us means something. Or…that it can mean something. It’s never been like that with a woman before, and I don’t want to let it go.
Not without giving us a chance to try.
When he tenses like he’s going to get up and go, I tap his shoulder. It takes him a moment and a heavy sigh before he rolls his head toward me, his eyebrows high up on his forehead like he’s asking, ‘What?’
I lick my lips, then search my vocabulary for what I want to ask him. ‘Stay. Tonight.’
He blinks at me.
‘Tomorrow again.’ I hope to god he’s understanding my meaning.
He swallows heavily, still staring.
In for a penny, I think. I’m going to put it all out there. ‘I sign no-good.’
He laughs and rolls his eyes with a scoff.
‘I know,’ I add when he looks at me again. ‘But me learning.’ My hands shake a little as I work through the next thing I want to say. ‘Me-hate-you.’
His eyes go wide with shock, and then he shakes his head and spells on his hand, ‘LIKE?’
I nod my fist and try to sign it again, but he stops me, grabbing my wrist to still my fingers.
“No,” he says aloud, and I startle. I was not expecting to hear his voice. ‘HATE,’ he spells, then repeats the sign I just gave him. ‘LIKE,’ and he signs that one. I’ve mixed them up in class more than once, but fuck, I can’t believe I did it right now, in this moment that feels important.
My cheeks are flaming hot, and I fight the urge to rub a fist over my chest, apologizing. Instead, I repeat myself the right way this time. ‘Me-like-you.’
After a long beat, he huffs a lungful of air. ‘Yes.’
‘Yes?’ I question.
He rolls onto his side. ‘Yes. Me-stay.’ He signs something else far too fast and complex for me to follow. I think I recognize a few things here and there, but I don’t trust myself to really know.
Reading his face, he seems…annoyed at best, and maybe still a little turned on. I am too, though I’m too fucking tired to keep going. My hopes of having a decent refractory rate are dashed by the fact that I’m exhausted after a long day at the gym and the acrobatic-as-fuck sex we just had.
But he’s going to stay. So I’ll have another chance.
I tap him again, and he huffs a sigh. ‘Sleep. Tomorrow again. Repeat.’ I make a hole with my thumb and forefinger, then jab my other finger through it.
He makes a choking noise and then, in the softest voice, says, “Sex,” aloud, showing me the sign for it.
I repeat it, and he gives me the most sarcastic Deaf applause ever, then turns away from me, shutting me out. I flop down beside him, exhaustion washing over me, but feeling like maybe this is something.
Or, if it’s not, maybe it could be something. His warmth beside me lulls me to sleep, and against my better judgment, I let myself feel something like hope.