Chapter 20 Andrew #4
“Such a pretty princess,” Nicki croons, his accent taking on a sharper edge when he pants with the exertion of holding himself still.
His hips are flush against Andrew’s ass while Andrew’s legs are around his waist. Andrew’s never been this close to another person in his life, physically or emotionally, and while it’s a little scary, it’s surprisingly nice.
“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this,” Nicki murmurs, dropping his elbows onto the bed on either side of Andrew, his hand cupping Andrew’s head. “So beautiful, so full of my cock, so fucking mine.”
“Possessive brute.”
“Damn right.”
Andrew’s lips turn up in a smile. Nicki might be a possessive brute, but he’s Andrew’s possessive brute.
“Tell me when I can move,” Nicki requests, shifting his knees.
“You can move now.”
Nicki doesn’t ask if he’s sure which Andrew is grateful for. He doesn’t want to think or make decisions right now.
“I’m going to fuck you so good.”
“Prove it.”
The growl that rumbles out of Nicki’s chest is guttural, and the residual vibrations of it reverberate against Andrew’s lips when he claims his mouth in a kiss.
Clearly, Nicki has learned that kissing is a good distraction, and it works, until it doesn’t.
It’s not painful anymore, not exactly uncomfortable, but whatever it is, Andrew isn’t sure he enjoys it.
It’s not the ass play itself that Andrew dislikes but the intrusion, the sense of something else in his body that’s triggering his brain’s we don’t like this panic.
“Nicki,” Andrew gasps.
Mistaking that gasp, Nicki thrusts, slow and deep.
“Stop,” Andrew blurts.
Exactly like he promised he would, Nicki stills instantly. His eyes search Andrew’s face, expression tight with what Andrew knows is confusion.
“I don’t—” but the words are stuck. Andrew is going to be sick.
Nicki wanted this so badly, and Andrew wanted to experience it with him, wanted to give him something when Nicki has given him so much.
He thought maybe it would be different and some of it was, the kissing and the rimming was good, but the penetration is not.
It’s not okay, and Andrew doesn’t want it to happen ever again.
“Princess.”
“I’m sorry,” Andrew croaks, struggling to move.
Nicki lets him roll out from under him until his feet hit the floor.
He bends over, breathing deep. One two three.
Three, two, one. Uno, dos, tres. Tres, dos, uno.
Over and over, until the world stops spinning.
Only then does he realize Nicki is still there, behind him, rubbing circles up and down his back.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“Because no one likes being stopped in the middle of sex. I just…It was good and then—” but Andrew can’t explain how it was okay until it wasn’t and how wrong Andrew felt. “It’s me, it’s always me.”
“Hey.” Nicki’s hand settles at his lower back. “I happen to like you.”
“Even after I ruined tonight?”
“You didn’t ruin a goddamn thing.”
The temptation to argue is strong, but before Andrew can do it, Nicki moves behind him, those thick hockey thighs of his bracketing Andrew at the same time Nicki’s arms wrap around his middle.
Nicki’s body is solid, strong, safe, and Andrew’s arguments die on the tip of his tongue as he lets himself be held, allowing Nicki to support his weight as his head falls back on Nicki’s shoulder.
“You did so good telling me what you need.”
Again, Andrew almost argues but he stops himself, wanting the praise more than he wants to disagree.
It doesn’t feel true or earned, he doesn’t feel like he did anything to be proud of, yet Nicki’s words soothe the pain his brain is trying to inflict.
He’s spent so long isolating during meltdowns and spirals, he didn’t even realize how damn nice it could be to have someone buffer his mental fall.
“So good,” Nicki repeats, kissing the side of his face.
Andrew hums, turning his face into Nicki’s neck to breathe him in.
The scent of sex lingers in the background, a reminder of what was just interrupted.
In the past, Andrew would’ve run, unable to parse what part of sex he didn’t like and what he now understands to be his autistic brain processing.
It was so intertwined, separating them felt impossible so he simply shut it all away, which was fine given his general lack of interest in sex anyway.
Here with Nicki, it’s suddenly safe to examine which parts he likes and doesn’t like, but that clearly doesn’t come without its own set of landmines to navigate.
Andrew can acknowledge now that no, it wasn’t just the lack of trust from his last partner.
He doesn’t like penetration, doesn’t like the feeling of something else inside of him. Except maybe Nicki’s tongue.
“I don’t think I like being fucked,” Andrew confesses, the words half-mumbled into Nicki’s neck. Even knowing Nicki won’t be angry, he holds his breath, waiting.
“Okay.”
“Ever,” Andrew adds, needing Nicki to understand. “I thought I could try again, that it would be different if it was someone I trusted but I don’t like it. I don’t want your fingers or dick in my ass ever again. I understand if that’s disappointing or a deal breaker.”
“You listen to me, Andrew King.” Nicki grabs his jaw, not hard but gentle, his face tipped enough to look directly into Nicki’s eyes. “Nothing about you is a disappointment.”
One sentence, a million insecurities soothed. Andrew’s biggest fear in life has always been disappointing people. His parents. His brothers. His friends. Romantic partners. His boss. Everyone. Trying to be perfect all the damn time left Andrew exhausted and on high alert constantly.
“Do you believe me?” Nicki asks.
“I want to.”
“What do you need?”
“It’s not just about me,” Andrew mumbles.
“Fine, you wanna know what I need? I need to make you feel good. I need to take care of you. I need it.”
“Why?” Andrew croaks.
“Because.” Nicki rubs his cheek into Andrew’s hair. “Because you’re mine.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” Andrew nods. “Okay.”
“Tell me what you need. What you want.”
“I want to stay like this,” Andrew says, loving how it feels to be so wholly surrounded by Nicki.
“Done. What else.”
“I want you to touch me.”
“I am touching you, princess.”
“Asshole,” Andrew laughs, grabbing Nicki’s hand and moving it to his dick, which is surprisingly still hard. It’s not a burning need, not a desperation, just a quiet longing to still be connected to Nicki.
“You want me to jerk you off, princess?”
“Yes.” Andrew arches his back a little. “Touch me.”
Nicki hums, that massive hand of his curling around Andrew’s erection while the other one strokes his belly, his chest, his throat, anything Nicki can reach.
His strokes are purposeful and intense, the words he whispers in Andrew’s ears enough to have him whining and whimpering, the last of his unease fading away with the effusive praise and attention Nicki lavishes him in.
“Fucking perfect,” Nicki croons. “Look at you, so pliant just for me. Letting me touch you, take care of you. You’re doing so fucking good, princess.”
That praise makes Andrew’s brain buzz with pleasure as intense as the physical pleasure in his dick.
It feels so good to be surrounded by Nicki, the center of such worshipful attention, that Andrew can’t hold back.
He has no idea when the last time he came was, only knows it’s never been as fast or intense as it is when his release erupts.
“Mine,” Nicki rasps, nipping at the base of Andrew’s throat. “Fuck.”
Andrew’s release is more than physical, it’s transcendent, and it’s all he can do not to sob at what a fucking relief it is to let go. His body is slack, his legs shaking despite the fact that he did nothing. Somehow, his arms shake too, the intensity more than Andrew is prepared for.
As if reading him like a book, Nicki gathers Andrew in his arms and rearranges them in the center of the bed, tucking a pillow under his head and fussing with the blanket like Andrew really is a princess.
All the while, Nicki ignores his own dick where it hangs heavy between his legs, the condom not even removed yet.
Eager to touch, Andrew reaches out, trailing his fingers over the poison ivy tattoo that wraps around Nicki’s upper thigh.
“I want to watch you touch yourself,” Andrew says, emboldened by Nicki’s presence.
“Do you now?” Nicki grins, looking absolutely delighted by the prospect.
“Yes.”
“What princess wants, princess gets,” Nicki smirks, removing the condom then adding a bit of lube to his hand. “I like it slick and messy.”
Andrew grimaces, the idea making his skin crawl.
He hates messy things, which is why he liked that Nicki didn’t use any lube when he jerked Andrew off.
There was a little left on his hand but not much.
His own hand squelches with how wet it is, and while Andrew would revolt if that were him, it certainly adds to the visuals watching Nicki fuck his own hand.
He’s huge and cut, and the lube makes a frankly indecent sound every time Nicki’s cock emerges.
It’s kind of fascinating really. Andrew has never understood the appeal of porn.
He couldn’t imagine ever wanting to watch a stranger get off or being aroused from that personally. But watching Nicki? This he likes.
“Does it feel good?” Andrew asks.
“So good,” Nicki confirms. “I like it hard and fast and wet.”
“Can you—” but Andrew stops, suddenly embarrassed.
“Anything.”
“Get closer,” Andrew finishes.
“How close?” Nicki asks, voice trembling as he stops stroking to watch Andrew.
Licking his lips, Andrew decides to go for broke. This is just Nicki, and he can trust him.
“Over my face.”
“Fuck,” Nicki whines, precome squirting out of the tip.
“But don’t come on me, please,” Andrew adds, just in case. “I just…I want to see.”
“Gonna fucking kill me, princess.”
“Sorry.”
“Not a complaint,” Nicki grits out, scooting up the bed and swinging one of his massive thighs over Andrew so he’s damn near sitting on his face.
He keeps himself up so Andrew doesn’t suffocate, which is quite thoughtful.
Then he starts to stroke, his entire body trembling when Andrew starts to play with his thighs.
This is nice. He likes this. It’s a bit like parallel play. He’s not making Nicki come, but he gets to touch his tattoos, gets to see the slide of his dick up close and personal because that dick is literally right over his face.
It’s not a position Andrew ever dreamed he’d want to be in, but there’s something powerful about being down here, doing nothing but watching Nicki take himself apart.
Powerful and erotic. It’s adjacent to the enjoyment Andrew gets from his spicy romance books—seeing someone else feel good, but not having any part in it himself.
With every stroke, Nicki gets louder, and Andrew is suddenly grateful they have the entire top floor of the hotel to themselves because Nicki is making noises that no one else would probably want to hear. Noises that Andrew quite selfishly would prefer no one but him got to hear.
It doesn’t take long for Andrew to recognize the patterns—the way Nicki tightens his fist on the upstroke and holds his breath. He wasn’t kidding when he said he liked it tight, and Andrew is transfixed by the sight.
“I’m going to come, princess.”
Wiggling his way out from underneath Nicki to avoid getting anything messy on him, he settles himself on the extra pillow beside watching as Nicki gives his dick a few more firm strokes then comes with a guttural cry, painting the pillow where his head just was in thick stripes of come.
“We’re going to need housekeeping,” Andrew observes.
Nicki turns and cracks one eye open, then the next before laughing. “Suppose we might.”
“We could also just use one of the extra bedrooms,” Andrew realizes, suddenly on board with this whole penthouse thing. One bed for sex and one for sleeping is perfect. Then the mess and smells don’t get in the sleeping bed.
“Using that big brain of yours,” Nicki grunts, slumping over Andrew. He’s a little sweaty but thankfully free of come.
“We should do this at home.”
“The sex?”
“Well yes, maybe sometimes. I like watching you, we can do that a lot but the uh…two bedrooms thing. We should have a sex bedroom.”
“A sex bedroom,” Nicki repeats, resting his chin on Andrew’s chest. “You want a sex bedroom?”
“It sounds ridiculous when you say it.”
“It sounds like you just asked for an entire bedroom just for sex.”
“Well, we have a lot of extra rooms and then the sex can just…stay there. Then our bed won’t get messy.”
“Our bed,” Nicki says with an uncharacteristically soft smile on his face. “Alright, princess. Sex bedroom it is.”
“You can stop saying it out loud now.”
“I don’t know, it's kind of fun,” Nicki teases. “Andrew’s sex dungeon.”
“It’s not a sex dungeon,” Andrew hisses. “Just a spare bedroom. One where we can engage in sexual proclivities with the needed supplies, and then keep the smells and mess in there.”
“Sexual proclivities. I love when you use big words, it’s hot.”
“Shut up,” Andrew huffs, his smile giving away his real feelings.
Growing up, he’d been teased and also accused of being a know-it-all for his vocabulary, even by his brothers.
It was confusing and frustrating, when really it was Andrew trying to use the most accurate words in his repertoire to describe a situation.
Having Nicki like the way he talks makes Andrew feel good.
Everything about Nicki makes Andrew feel good.
“I’m ready for a shower now,” Andrew announces.
“Shower then cuddles.”
It’s not a question but a statement, but Andrew agrees anyway. “Yes.”
“Can I wash you again?”
“Yes, Nicki.”
“Can I carry you?” Nicki questions, already rolling off the bed and scooping Andrew up.
“It appears you already are.”
“Damn right.”
Contented, happy and truly relaxed, Andrew rests his face in the crook of Nicki’s neck and finally, fucking finally, lets go.