Chapter 20 #2
I rub a slick finger over his hole, and he lets out a soft huff of pleasure as I work him open.
It doesn’t take long either. He’s loose and relaxed, my finger slipping into him easily, coating his ass with lube.
Copious amounts of it. I add a second finger and then a third, spreading them, watching his hole slowly open for me.
His hand is moving between his legs, jerking himself in time with each of my thrusts into him. It makes my cock impossibly hard.
My fingers leave him, and he stops stroking, his fingers moving out from between his legs to tell me he’s ready.
Then he whispers a pretty “Please.”
I love his voice. I love his hands. I love fucking him, I think as I coat my dick with lube and slot it at his hole.
It flexes open for me as I push the tip inside.
He takes me easily, a low groan leaving his lips as I lean forward and kiss my way across the back of his neck and shoulders, entering him an inch at a time.
I can feel the tremble in his body the deeper I get, and when I finally slam home, he lets out a whimper, his hand moving between his legs and touching himself.
I shift my hips back and then push forward, loving the feel of his rim dragging against my cock. He gasps when I exit him completely and then push my way back in. Then I do it again and again, feeling him writhe beneath me with each push forward and each drag out of him.
“More,” he voices after minutes of this, and I’m fucking ready for it. To give him more.
I reach for his hands, pulling them behind his back and holding them tightly as I start to move. My hips slam into his ass, my cock tunneling in and out of that tight channel. He rocks back to meet my thrusts, his eyes screwed shut, his mouth open in one long moan.
The sound of him, the feel, it’s too much.
My rhythm falters, my cock thickening as I reach the edge. I’m so close I can taste it.
I let go of his wrists, and they fall to his sides as I lift him up, his back to my chest. I use that position to rut into him, my free hand moving to his cock and stroking.
He cries out, his dick exploding, covering my fingers and knuckles, and the way his ass constricts around my length has my own release emptying into him. I grunt and shake, my lips trailing across his thrumming pulse and landing on his lips.
We kiss languidly, my dick still inside of his clenching hole until I finally slip free of it.
He falls to the couch, and I go with him, curling up behind him with an arm around his chest so I can trace shapes across his beating heart.
We’re silent for a while before he turns to face me. I stare at his beautiful eyes and let my fingers trail across his jaw. ‘We need to get you cleaned up.’
‘You did make a mess of me.’
My lips curl up. ‘How’s your ass?’
‘Perfect.’
I lean forward and kiss him softly, feeling the nervous thrum in my chest. I want to ask him now. I want to label whatever this is between us, but for some reason, I swallow it back.
Maybe now isn’t the time. Maybe it’s too soon.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asks.
I shake my head. ‘Nothing. Just thinking about how pretty you are.’ He blushes, and I trace his bottom lip with my thumb. ‘Come on. Let’s shower, and then maybe I’ll make you something to eat.’ He blinks at me, and I grin. ‘Can hear your stomach growling.’
He blushes again, and I kiss my way across his cheeks.
When I lean back, he sighs. ‘Guess I could let my boyfriend make me something to eat. I am hungry and did just take a dick up my ass.’ My mouth falls open, and he grins up at me. ‘Yes? Boyfriend?’
I swallow heavily, then nod. ‘You sure?’
‘I’m sure. No need to make a big deal out of it. Come on. Shower and then feed me.’
He hops up, and my eyes trail after that ass, my heart hammering in my chest because god. I hadn’t realized that was all I wanted.
My feet carry me forward. Toward him.
Toward my boyfriend.
We make it back to my condo just before dinner. I feel different, a little less like me and more like someone else. It’s strange. I haven’t once thought about the gym today. I haven’t thought about my responsibilities or what I’m missing or what could go wrong.
Thom hasn’t texted, and there have been no crises in the employee group chat. It’s almost like the world can carry on without me micromanaging everything.
It’s almost like I actually can have a functional social life without everything burning to the ground.
At Rome’s, we got distracted in the shower long enough to jerk each other off, and then he made me a sandwich to replace all the calories we’d been burning.
It was nothing to write home about, but there was something comforting about watching him pull out a baguette, buttering both sides, then adding cheese, meat, and veggies.
He looked at me when he piled on all the greens, smirking like he knew I was going to give him shit about micronutrients and fiber. We ate and lounged for a bit, talking about nothing at all.
It seemed like he needed that little bit of nothing, and I couldn’t blame him after what happened at the street fair.
In the end, I expected him to tell me he had fun and send me on my way. Like after all the half-hysterical, half-feral sex, he was done with me.
So him trailing at my heels now as I unlock my door and walk inside my condo feels like a gift. It feels like something unexpected. Something I should cherish. But I know better than to look that gift horse in the mouth.
‘Where’s the cat?’ he asks when I turn around to face him.
I shrug and suck in a breath to call for Dennis before remembering he can’t hear me. How does someone get the attention of a deaf, skittish alley cat?
‘Treats,’ I sign, then go for the bag that Milo had shoved inside the tote. I drop a few on the floor, but there’s no sign of Dennis, so I set the bag on the shelf for later. ‘I’m sure he’ll come out eventually.’
‘To bite me,’ Rome signs with a flat expression. “I bet that’s when he comes out.’
I feel a smile tugging at my lips, so I walk over and yank him toward me by the front of his shirt and kiss him. He’s stiff for a second, then melts against my chest and hums. His hands move around the back of my neck and fiddle with my hair that’s grown a little too long.
‘Are you still hungry, boyfriend?’
He grins and flushes as he ducks his head, shy when I use that word. It’s sweet, and I hope he’s not regretting it now. ‘A little. We worked out hard.’
I have some leftover stir-fry I’d prepped in bulk, so I walk to the kitchen, pull out the container, and show it to him.
He shrugs in approval, then points at himself, then at the couch.
‘Go sit,’ I tell him. I want him to feel comfortable here. Like he can make this place his own and not need to hover at my side.
I busy myself with putting together a couple of plates of chicken, veg, and rice. It’ll be dry as shit from the microwave, but both of us seem too wiped out from the day to care much. I wonder, despite not getting an A+, if he’s still going to put in an effort.
Is he going to plan another date? Is he serious about us being exclusive, and if so, what kind of boyfriend will he be?
What kind will I be?
I’ve never dated a guy before, and I know it’ll be different.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and spin to see him looking at me. His eyebrows lower. ‘What are you thinking?’ He reaches out and traces a line over my lips. The motion tells me I was frowning.
‘Boyfriend,’ I sign without thinking.
He wrinkles his nose as he stares at me.
I shift a little and then sigh. ‘Changing your mind about me?’ The signs feel heavy on my hands with the weight of how much I’m worried about that.
He makes a sound in the back of his throat, like he’s annoyed with me, and I get it. Insecurity isn’t the most attractive quality in anyone. But then he bumps me into the counter with his hips and curls a hand around my jaw.
He licks his lips, then says aloud, “I like you.”
The words hit me like a physical caress, right in the center of the chest, and then it tightens. I reach up, touching his lips, and he presses a kiss to my fingertips.
‘You don’t have to speak for me,’ I tell him. ‘I like your voice. But I know you don’t prefer it.’
He shrugs. ‘It’s not about that. Growing up, I was good at speech therapy, and I can hear some. Better with hearing aids, but I hate wearing them.’
I knew he had some hearing, but I never wanted to ask how much.
‘I was good at lipreading,’ he goes on. ‘It never bothered me until college.’
I frown. ‘Why college?’
He puffs out a breath of air, then shrugs and gestures to the microwave. Shit, I didn’t realize it had gone off. Ironic that the Deaf man noticed and not me. I nod and turn around, grabbing our plates and trying to ignore the burn of hot ceramic as I lead the way to the living room.
He takes a seat close enough that our knees touch, but he doesn’t take his plate when I set them both down on the coffee table.
‘I’m sorry if I brought up a painful past.’
He meets my gaze and shakes his head. ‘No. It’s fine.
You should know.’ He hesitates and then begins.
‘Growing up, I went to a residential Deaf school, so I was always around my community. Then after high school, I got accepted to Gallaudet, and going out of state felt exciting, thrilling. It’s the only university in the USA that’s fully Deaf,’ he adds.
I nod. I’ve done enough classes with Denver and have heard plenty of stories from all my Deaf friends to know how freeing that was for them.
‘It wasn’t the perfect place I thought it was going to be. A lot of hearing students who weren’t fluent were in my classes. A lot of—’ He stops, then spells the next word. ‘ELITISM.’
I see that word and nod. I get it. From my short time in the community, I’ve heard about the Deaf elite, how they are the ones with the education, achievements, and social connections to give them influence in the community.
And at the same time, they can make others feel small.
‘I didn’t grow up in a Deaf home with Deaf family. My dad is hearing.’