Chapter Thirty Colin
Chapter Thirty
Colin
Declan hasn’t been the same since the accident. I’m fine, healthwise. I suffered a concussion and likely some bruised ribs, but nothing life-threatening.
And yet, it’s like he’s come down with some emotional flu he hasn’t been able to shake since.
I think that even though I am okay and I didn’t die, he spent at least two or three hours imagining that I had. And the trauma from those hours doesn’t just go away.
He’s been sketching more than usual. Even after we have sex in the morning, he stays in bed most of the day and just draws in his book. It breaks my heart to see him like this.
Six days after the accident, I finally feel good enough to go for a drive, so he takes me to the nearest beach, after I spend hours begging him to, of course.
We’re sitting on a large blanket under a massive blue and orange umbrella, watching couples and families frolic in the water. So I reach for him.
As he takes my hand, he offers me a sad smile.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper with my cheek resting against my knees.
His brows fold inward. “Sorry for what?”
“For bringing all of that up that day. I shouldn’t have started a fight with you while—”
“Shakespeare,” he says, cutting me off. “Stop it. Stop thinking everything is your fault. Or that you’re responsible for everyone’s emotions, because you’re not.”
“I know, but…”
“No buts,” he says, squeezing my hand. “You were right. I do treat you like a friend sometimes, but it’s only because I don’t know what else to do.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, scooting closer to him.
“You have your life in California, and I have mine in Scotland, and I don’t do well with relationships as it is, so how on earth could I be any good at a long-distance one?
And what if it doesn’t work? What if I’m a terrible boyfriend, and it ruins us?
You’re the most important person in my life, Colin Shelby. If I lose you…”
I loop a hand around his neck and drag his mouth toward mine. “You will never lose me.”
When I press a kiss to his lips, he returns it, but with little life. As I pull away, he asks sadly, “Can you give me more time? Next year. I promise. I can give you more next year.”
“Of course,” I reply before kissing him again.
We lie on the blanket for a while, cuddling together and enjoying the sunshine. Eventually, I talk him into coming into the water with me.
So we walk hand in hand to the waves, but they are colder than I anticipated. He has to drag me in until they reach my waist, and then we’re both full of laughter and smiles.
It’s a bandage. A temporary fix on a more permanent problem, but for now, it’s enough.
* * *
Back at the house, Declan gets into the shower first as I unpack the car. We both head home tomorrow, and another eventful week together comes to an end.
The months between these visits feels like just passing the time. Even when I’m chasing roles, memorizing lines, and working to further my career, it still feels like an interim in my own life. Just something to kill the time before I’m where I belong—with him.
When I walk into the bathroom, he watches me from behind the frosty glass doors of the shower.
After pulling off my shirt, I stare at myself in the mirror.
My bruises and scrapes have started to heal, and as soon as I get back home, I’ll be back to my gym routine with my personal trainer to prepare for the next role.
Passing the time.
“Why don’t you join me?” Declan asks from the shower.
Turning toward him with a coy smile, I reply, “I think I will.”
Peeling off my swimsuit, I climb into the large stall alongside him. He gently tugs me under the warm spray of water, and I tilt my head back to allow it to run down my scalp.
Declan lathers his hands with soap and begins washing my short, cropped hair. It feels so nice. I let out a hum, and when he rinses it under the water, I reach behind to touch his hip. He’s taking delicate care of me, washing my hair like I’m something fragile and breakable.
“You don’t have to be so gentle with me anymore,” I say.
His wet hand slides up to close around my throat, pulling me back against his body. Reaching farther behind me, I grasp his shaft in my hand, squeezing and stroking to make him hard.
His mouth is by my ear as he mutters, “Does my boy want it rough?”
“Yes, please,” I cry.
I know there is a part of Declan that wants to pamper me because he almost lost me. In fact, in his mind, he did lose me. But I’m here, I’m alive, I’m with him, and I want him to treat me that way.
He fills his palm with more soap, using it to lather my body, starting at my chest and working down my abs. His fingers toy with the happy trail of hair leading from my belly button down to my cock. I let out a husky groan as he wraps his hand around me, stroking it to life.
But he doesn’t stop there. His lathered hands explore every inch of my body, caressing my testicles and reaching even farther back to tease my taint. Then his hands move down my legs, covering me with soapy bubbles clear down to my feet.
He knows every inch of me. My body is more his than mine at this point, and I love that. I can’t explain the comfort it gives me to be so adored, so treasured, and so valued.
Today, he said I was the most important person in his life. I will take that sentiment with me to get me through every moment we’re apart.
“Hands against the wall,” he mutters.
I press my palms to the tile and close my eyes in anticipation as he kneels behind me. He works the soapy lather up the back of my thighs and between the globes of my backside.
He loves to tease me. I think he likes to make me beg for it.
“Please,” I say with a sigh.
“So needy,” he replies. “Now let me hear you whimper.”
Using even more soap, he works me open with two fingers, and he’s not gentle about it, which is exactly what I want. His strokes are rough until I’m a trembling, whimpering mess of need.
I’m practically shoving my hips back toward him, waiting for him to fill me, needing him inside me as if I’m not completely whole without him. When he stands and presses the blunt head of his cock against my hole, I let out a soft sigh of pleasure.
Right now, I wish I could tell him I love him. Not as a friend but as a man. His man.
He pushes himself inside me, past the ring of muscle, and we groan in unison as if him being buried deep is a relief.
“You were made for me, Shelby,” he mutters as he bottoms out, pressed in as far as he can go. “You know that? No one else will have you the way I do.”
“No one,” I reply breathlessly. He eases out to the tip slowly and back in even slower, like delicious torture.
“Please, Declan,” I beg.
“What does my boy want?” he asks, his voice strained as he slowly pulls out again.
“Please fuck me,” I ask.
“Like this?” he replies. With a harsh grip on my hips, he slams back inside me. And I let out a deafening, gravelly moan. My cock leaks at the tip as he grazes my prostate. But now that he’s started, he can’t stop thrusting relentlessly inside of me with heavy grunts.
Moments like this, I’m glad we decided to get tested before each of our visits so I can feel him inside of me with nothing between us.
I will never tire of the feel of his cum filling me up, then dripping down my legs.
It makes me feel as if I’ve been branded by him.
Like he’s marked me as his forever, his scent embedded into my skin like some sort of primal mating ritual.
He picks up speed as he fucks me, his hip bones bruising my ass as he pounds without mercy.
“Stroke yourself, Shelby,” he says between grunts. “I want to feel you come when I’m inside you.”
Completely bent over, my face is pressed against the wall as I use my right hand to stroke my aching cock. I try to match the rhythm of his thrusts, and it doesn’t take long before my orgasm coalesces inside of me.
For a moment, it’s like I cease to exist. I groan loudly as my own cum spills over my fingers and lands against the wall.
“Fuck yeah,” Declan mutters as his grip tightens. “I can feel your ass tighten when you come,” he says. “God, you feel so good. My good fucking boy. My good, dirty fucking boy.”
His thrusts slow as he meets his release. I can feel his cock shudder as he comes inside me. And when he’s done, I almost don’t want him to pull out. I don’t want his seed to leak from inside me.
And I don’t want to wash it away, because I know it’ll be another year before I get to feel it again.
When he’s spent, he pulls out of me and gathers me into his arms, kissing the side of my head like I’m something he adores. Like I’m someone he loves.
“I’m sorry I don’t say the things I’m supposed to say,” he mumbles against my cheek. “I’m so bad at this, Shelby, but you should know you are the best thing in my life. I hope you know that. And I do want you as more, I do. It’s just…I need you as my friend more than anything.”
For a moment, it feels like I can’t breathe. To hear him acknowledge this thing between us and the way we’ve been stuck as friends for so long feels like a big change from the man who used to just admit how easy sex with me was.
To hear him even say he wants more is enough for now.
Turning around, I stare into his eyes as I say, “I’ll be whatever you need. And I mean it.”
He smiles as he leans forward and takes my mouth in a tender kiss.