Chapter 26 Jessie
Jessie
I follow Luke down the hall. Watching his ass bob up and down as he walks has never been something I’d call a great hardship.
What can I tell you? The guy knows how to fill out a pair of pink scrubs.
I’ve already showered, so I clean my teeth and wash my face.
When I’m done I sit on a little stool I bought for this very purpose, and watch Luke take a shower.
He uses way too much shampoo. Way too much.
He always does. Every time I watch him, I’m positive he’s going to get suds in his eyes.
He never does though. Or if he does, he hides it because I’ve warned him about it so many times.
He starts with his hair and face then he lathers up the washcloth and scrubs himself down, biceps and delts flexing from the effort, as he moves down to his armpits and chest. He hops on one leg and then the other, sending water droplets flying, as he washes his legs and feet.
He sets the washcloth down and washes his dick and balls by hand.
He always does it for a little longer when he knows I’m watching.
Tonight he raises a hand and swipes it down on the glass shower door, clearing the mist from my view.
His dick is hardening, thickening and swelling as I watch.
Mine is too. He looks at me as he does it.
He’s smiling sweetly, but I recognize the lust in his eyes all too well.
He turns around, bracing himself with a hand on the tile, as he reaches back and lathers his crack.
Steam has started to fog the glass up again.
I can see what he’s doing, but my view is frustratingly blurred.
My heart rate is steady but my blood starts pumping harder when I make out the blurred movement of Luke sliding a single soapy finger into his hole.
By the time he gets out, his skin is pink from heat and the over-enthusiastic scrubbing it’s received, and I’m rock solid.
He dries himself off and drops his towel on the floor when he’s done. I sigh heavily and pick it up.
“I was going to get it,” he slurs around a mouthful of toothpaste.
“Oh yeah?” I smile. “That right? Guess there’s a first time for everything, huh?”
Usually, I’d nag him a little more about it, but I’m dying for him to get to the bedroom to see what I’ve left out for him.
I hang back, waiting for him to find it.
I know he’ll like it. He’s insanely supportive and genuinely seems to love everything I’ve ever created.
That’s not what I’m excited about. What’s important about this piece is that it’s one I’ve had in my mind for ages.
Years, in fact. I’ve tried to capture it many times in the past, but I’ve always crumpled the page and tossed it before showing it to him.
I’ve done it now, though. I got there in the end.
I finally got it exactly how I wanted it.
Exactly how I wanted it not just to look, but how I wanted it to feel.
“Holy shit!” he exclaims. “Are you serious, Jess?” I allow a tiny bubble of pride to rise in my chest as I wait for crazy, over-the-top compliments and unbridled praise. “That’s what my ass looks like?”
I burst out laughing. Fuckit, I love him. Trust him to notice his ass instead of anything else. Especially when the piece is so important to me.
To us.
It’s a drawing of a beefy blond boy lying on the bed in his childhood bedroom.
He’s on his belly and has his laptop open in front of him.
He’s wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of athletic shorts and yes, I did spend some extra time making sure I got the spectacular state of his ass just right.
It’s rounded and shaded to perfection. A perfect, ripe peach.
Untouched at the time, but ready. In the picture, his head is craned back, and his eyes are wide open.
Blue like a bright summer sky. Innocent and wise at the same time.
In all the versions I’ve done of this drawing over the years, his eyes are what tripped me up. I couldn’t get them just right. I couldn’t capture the depth I saw in them that day. I couldn’t get them to say the things they said to me all those years back.
Come get me
I’m yours
My mind
My body
All of me
Yours
I was a sad, confused little shit back then. I had no way of knowing that what he gave me that day was everything in life that’s ever been worth having.
“Holy shit!” he says again, louder this time.
He sets the drawing down on the side table and walks over to the full length mirror on the wall near our closet.
He twists his body around, checking his ass out in the mirror.
The muscles in his upper back pleat and a deep ravine forms down his spine.
He bends over a little and juts his ass out, giving himself the best possible view of his backside.
I stifle a giggle, and the lusty wave I used to think came from a place of darkness starts swirling around me. I don’t fight it. I welcome it. I know what it is now, and I know what it’s not. It’s part of me. Not all of me, but an important, valuable part.
“Stop being an idiot,” I half smile, half sneer.
“Seriously, that’s what my ass looks like? Geez, no wonder you can’t keep your dick out of it.”
“Stop talking about dicks in asses, Blue.”
He gives me a huge shithead grin, “Or what?”
“Or the next thing I draw,” I pause and drop my voice all the way down, “is going to be a picture of you facing that mirror, watching your own reflection as I plow you from behind.”
His jaw drops open a fraction and I see a tiny intake of breath.
He wants it.
He wants it like I want it.
I take him roughly by the upper arm, “Turn around, spread your legs, and place your hands on either side of the mirror.”
He does as I say. He leans forward quickly, spreading his big hands flat against the wall.
He spreads his legs wider than shoulder width apart and arches his back deeply – not strictly speaking what I told him to do.
Usually when I’m in this kind of mood, I like him to do as I say to the letter, but I find I don’t mind him going off script, if that’s how he’s going to do it.
“It’s going to be fast and nasty. You ready?”
“Fuck, yeah. I want it.”
I get the lube and stand behind him, trailing a hand down his spine. “Eyes on me,” I say. “Eyes on me the whole time, okay?”
He meets my gaze and gives me a little open mouth nod.
I mean to prep him and fuck him fast like I said, but as my hand moves down his back and reaches the top of his crack, I find I can’t do it.
I fall to my knees behind him, grabbing his ass cheeks in both hands and spreading them roughly.
The feel of his smooth, creamy skin against my palms sends ripples of excitement through me.
I knead his flesh with my hand and mash my face into him, diving into the middle of him with my mouth and my tongue.
I’d love to tease him and take it slow, but tonight, I can’t.
The smell of his skin and the warm, silky feel of it are too much for me.
I spread him open hard and lick him gently up and down until he squirms, then I change to long circular strokes till he groans.
I flick my tongue at his bud, nudging harder and harder until the tip of my tongue slides in.
His knees buckle and he swears coarsely.
I get to my feet, taking the hair on the back of his head in my hand, twisting it in my fist, making sure his eyes are right where I want them. “Watch,” I say.
I let him see me lube my fingers and drop my hand down.
I spread it between his cheeks and slide a slippery finger into him.
His eyelids start sliding shut as he feels it but he quickly remembers and drags them open to keep his eyes fixed on me.
I prep him fast but thoroughly, coating and stretching every inch my fingers can reach.
The heat inside him burns through me. My temperature rises, I swear it does, as blood and arousal pump through my veins.
My skin and my body feel tight and desperate to touch him. To fill him. To flood him with my seed.
I toss the lube down on the bed and spread his cheeks with one hand and line myself up with the other. I look up before I thrust. Our eyes meet. His are darker than usual, pale rings of blue around two big, blown-out black orbs. It’s the black part that tells me what I want to see.
Stories about him and me.
Stories of lust and longing and filthy things we want to do to each other.
Stories of love and coming home and finding forever.
His head bows down and his fingers curve, blunt nails digging into the wall in vain as I thrust. His neck tenses and a long, rough sound forces its way out of him. He doesn’t look down, though. He doesn’t close his eyes. He keeps them on me because that’s what I asked for.
I slide through the tightness of his first and second sphincters, clenching my teeth as I fuck into his heat.
I give him a second to recover and then I start thrusting in earnest. Long, deep strokes.
Fast and nasty, just like I promised. His body jolts forward with each thrust and the sound of skin slapping skin echoes throughout the room.
“Every time,” he gasps as he starts stroking his dick. “It feels like this every time. So good…so fucking good, it almost feels like too much. Feels like I’m breaking. Feels so good I don’t think I can take it anymore.”
I can tell he’s close. His voice is strained and he’s at that point where it feels like you’re suffering, like you’re being tortured, like you might die if you don’t nut.
I know the feeling. I’m there, too. I fuck him harder.
Harder and deeper. I hold nothing back. Pleasure radiates up and down my dick, spilling over to the rest of my body.
“Jess,” he moans, looking into my reflection, seeing straight through it and into me. “I’ll take anything if you’re the one giving it. Always. As long as I live, I’ll take whatever you have to give.”
The truth and the honesty and the vulnerability of his words break me. My balls tighten and come rockets out of me in thick, hot spurts. The ecstasy is blinding, almost brutal, as it tears through me and starts racking him, too.
Afterwards, we stagger to the bed, falling all over each other before arranging ourselves in our preferred position; him on his back, me on my side curled up beside him with my head nestled into the meat of his shoulder.
“Damn,” he says a couple of times.
We drift off in a catatonic slumber that’s so deep and involuntary, it feels like we’ve been drugged. I don’t know how long we sleep for, but it isn’t long enough. We’re both in the process of drifting down into deep slumber when we hear a soft, sad whimper from Adrian.
“Oh God,” I moan, “please, please no.”
“I’ll go,” says Luke, getting out of bed and stumbling down the hall bumping into the wall once or twice.
Every damn time I think I can’t love him more, he proves me wrong.
He comes back quickly. Way quicker than it usually takes to settle our bad little boy down. I immediately realize why that is.
“It’s just this one time, Jess,” he mumbles. “Just tonight and then never again. It won’t be like the sofa, or the human food, or letting him jump up, or…”
A deep rumble leaves my chest as I curve my body around Adrian and face Luke.
I can make out the outline of him in the dark.
I reach between us and find Adrian lying flat on his back, soft, round belly fully exposed.
Happy as a clam. Comfortable as can be. I stroke him gently and he lets out a growly little sigh.
I search for the pads of a paw and find Luke’s hand doing the same thing.
I breathe in and I’m flooded by the sweet smell of puppy breath, sea air, and total contentment.
“Oh, Blue,” I sigh, “he’s here for life.”
“No. There’s still hope. I mean not much, but a little…”
“There’s no hope at all.” I wind my fingers tightly around Luke’s and lean over, dropping a light trail of kisses along his jaw until I find my way to his lips.
“Sorry,” he says. “I can take him back if you want.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. Can’t be helped, can it? Our little boy is like us.”
“What do you mean?”
I smile and kiss him again, pulling him as close as we can get without crushing Adrian.
“He knows what good feels like.”