Epilogue Stormy #3
I lie back on the bed. He doesn't go straight for it.
This is Tex. He starts slow, crawling over me, arms braced on either side of my head, and lowers his mouth to mine first. The kiss is deep but unhurried.
His lips parting mine gently, tongue stroking in lazy, exploratory sweeps that taste like mint from his toothpaste.
His beard scratches softly against my chin, a familiar rasp that makes my skin tingle.
I arch up into him, hands sliding into his hair, pulling him closer.
He groans softly into my mouth, low, vibrating, and kisses me longer, deeper, like we have all night just for this.
"God, I love kissing you," he murmurs against my lips. "Your mouth is so soft. So perfect. The way you open for me like this. Makes me feel like the luckiest man alive. And I am."
He kisses me again, even slower this time, tongue tracing the seam of my lips before dipping inside, tangling with mine in a rhythm that builds heat low. His body presses closer, chest to chest, the weight of him grounding me without overwhelming.
I wrap my legs around his hips instinctively, pulling him nearer, feeling the hard length of his cock brush against my thigh.
He breaks the kiss reluctantly, trailing his mouth down my jaw, nipping lightly at the skin there before soothing it with his tongue. He moves to my neck, kissing the pulse point, sucking gently until my breath hitches. His hands join in, palms sliding down my sides, fingers tracing my ribs.
He goes lower still with kisses along my collarbone, tongue dipping into the hollow there.
He pauses at my chest, mouth closing over one nipple.
A long, slow suck, tongue circling the peak until it hardens under his attention.
I gasp softly, arching into him, and he switches to the other, hand cupping the first, thumb rubbing gently over the sensitive bud.
"These nipples," he says, voice rough. "Love how they tighten for me. How your whole body shivers when I do this." He flicks his tongue once, then sucks again, drawing out a low moan from me.
He continues down, kissing each ridge of my abs, tongue tracing the lines between them, dipping into my navel before moving lower.
His hands splay wide over my hips, thumbs pressing into the hollows there, holding me steady.
He kisses the crease where thigh meets groin, beard grazing my inner thigh in a way that makes me tremble.
My cock is hard now, leaking against my stomach, but he doesn't touch it yet.
Just breathes hot air over it, making it twitch.
He settles between my legs. The lube comes out.
His mouth finds me first. The same soft, warm, devastating attention from last night, and my body responds faster this time because my body remembers.
My body remembers this feels good. His tongue works and my hips lift. When the sounds start, I let them come.
He starts with broad, flat licks over my hole, slow and thorough, wetting me with his saliva.
The sensation is warm and slick, his tongue circling the rim in lazy spirals, then pressing flat to lap upward in long strokes that make my thighs quiver.
He takes his time. Minutes of just this, his tongue dipping inside to tease the sensitive opening before retreating.
The pleasure builds gradually, a deep, tingling warmth that spreads through my pelvis, making my cock throb untouched.
"Fuck, Tex," I whisper. "Your tongue feels so good."
He hums against me, the vibration sending sparks up my spine, and dives deeper, opening me bit by bit.
He adds more pressure, lapping at the rim before pressing inside again, the wet heat making my hole clench and relax around him.
My breaths come faster, hips rocking slightly into his face as the pleasure intensifies, my body craving more.
After long minutes, he pulls back slightly, adding lube to his fingers. "Using my fingers now," he says softly. "We're going slow. Tell me if it's too much."
One finger first—slick and careful—circling my hole slowly before sliding in. The stretch is familiar, but still intense, my ass parting around him as he pushes knuckle-deep. I gasp, body adjusting to the intrusion, and he holds still, letting me feel it.
"Okay, baby?" he asks.
"Yes. Feels full. Good. Move it."
He does—slow thrusts, curling to brush my prostate, sending jolts of pleasure through me.
He adds a second finger after more lube, the stretch burning briefly before melting into deeper fullness, my hole opening wider around him.
He works his fingers patiently. Scissoring gently, thrusting slowly, curling against that spot over and over until I'm moaning steadily, hips pushing back for more.
"Add another," I say. "Stretch me more. I want to feel you."
He slicks a third finger, presses in slowly.
The burn is sharper, my hole stretching taut around the thickness.
He pauses often, checking in, his free hand rubbing my thigh.
Minutes pass as he opens me thoroughly—thrusting, scissoring, curling—until my ass is relaxed and eager, the pleasure deep and constant.
He lifts his head. His fingers stay inside me. He looks up at me from between my thighs and his face is flushed and he's breathing hard.
"Are you ready?" he asks. "Do you need more time?"
"I'm ready, Tex."
He withdraws his fingers. He kneels between my legs and reaches for the lube again.
I watch him slick himself. The size of him and the thought of where it's going is overwhelming.
He's large. To put it mildly. Much bigger than his fingers.
Much bigger than my cock, and he seemed to have a little trouble taking it.
He looks down at himself, then looks at me. The expression flickers between desire and genuine concern.
"God, Stormy," he says. "For the first time in my life, I'm wishing I had a small dick.
I have never said those words. In the history of my life, that sentence has never come out of my mouth.
This is what love does to a man, Stormy.
It makes him wish for things he never thought he'd wish for.
I'm having a whole experience right now. Emotionally and anatomically."
"I'm not afraid of your size," I say. "You'll fit. I want you inside me."
He positions himself above me and his face fills my vision.
For one fraction of a second I tense. There's a body above me, weight between my legs, the shadow and shape of a man and then I see my Tex.
Brown eyes. Soft beard. The face I trust more than any face in the world.
The shadow passes. It doesn't come back.
It's gone.
He presses forward. I feel him—the reality of him—and he pushes the first inch in and stops.
"That's just the tip. You okay?"
"Yes."
"Want to stop here for tonight? We can keep going again tomorrow. Work our way up to the whole big dick."
"Tex, please… keep going."
"Okay, breathe and relax."
Another inch. The stretch is more than his fingers and the burn is there, the one I expected, and I breathe through it and his eyes never leave mine.
"Still okay?"
"Yeah, more."
Another inch. The burn fades into warmth. The fullness builds. He's above me, watching my face, reading every expression, stopping at every breath that catches.
He's holding himself up on his arms, careful with his weight, and I am looking up at his face. His beautiful face is right here—inches from mine, open and terrified.
I love him so much it overwhelms me.
"You want me to stop?" he whispers.
"Don't you dare stop. Keep going."
A couple more careful thrusts and he slides in fully. And for a moment we both stop breathing. He's inside me. Completely. And what floods through me is not pain and not just pleasure. It's safety. The most counterintuitive safety I've ever felt.
This man is inside me and above me and his arms are on either side of my head and I have never in my life felt this safe. His body surrounding mine. His face above mine. His arms not trapping me in but keeping everything else out.
He always tells me he's got me, and now he really does.
This is where I want to be.
There is only Tex, above me, inside me, looking at me like I am the most precious thing he has ever been trusted to hold.
"Oh my God," he whispers. His forehead drops to mine. Our noses touch. His breath is warm on my face and his eyes are inches from mine and they're wet. "Stormy, you feel so fucking perfect."
"I'm good," I say. "It's good. I want this. You can move now."
He moves. Slow. A withdrawal and a return that is careful and gentle and sets a pace that my body can follow. The rhythm is gentle and my body adjusts to it, opens around it, finds the pleasure in it.
His hand reaches between us. He wraps his fingers around my cock and strokes in time with his movements. His mouth finds mine and he kisses me while he moves inside me.
I am surrounded by him.
The pleasure arrives in waves. A shift in angle that sends a spark through my spine. A deeper stroke that hits the place his fingers found last night and my hips lift off the bed. The sound I make is involuntary and unmistakable.
"There," I gasp. "Right there. That's the spot."
"What? You okay?"
"Don't stop. Right there."
"I got you, baby," he says. His voice is strained and rough and barely holding together.
He adjusts. Finds the angle and keeps it. His hand keeps stroking, his hips keep the rhythm and the pleasure builds past anything I knew was possible. I didn't know it could feel like this. I didn't know that looking up into a face could feel like looking up at heaven.
The rhythm builds. He's still careful but the care is finding its groove, finding the place where careful and passionate coexist. My hips are rising to meet him and we're moving together now, a conversation between bodies, the call and answer that builds in waves.
His hand matches the pace, tightening, and I'm caught between the fullness of him inside me and the pressure of his hand around me and every nerve in my body is firing at once.
I'm close. The orgasm builds from the deep place, the place his fingers found last night, amplified by his hand on my cock.
The pressure builds and the heat builds.
I'm looking up at his face and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen—wrecked, open, the face of a man who is being undone by love and is letting it happen.
"Tex… I'm going to—"
"Me too. God, Stormy, me too—"
I come first. The orgasm rolls through me from both places at once—from inside where he's hitting the spot and from his hand around me—and the combination is overwhelming, a full-body event that arcs my spine off the bed. My body tightens around him and I cry out his name.
My hands grip his shoulders and he feels me come and he follows. Three more strokes, hard, the restraint finally breaking, and he buries himself in me. The sound he makes is my name and his body shakes above mine. I hold him through it the way he's held me through everything.
We come down together. He lowers his weight onto me carefully. Not all of it, he'd crush me, but enough to feel held, enough to feel surrounded and I wrap my arms around his back. His face is in my neck, his breath warm against my skin.
He lifts his head and looks at me.
"Are you really okay?" he asks. "Did I hurt you?"
"It didn't hurt," I say. That's what I need him to know first. Before anything else. "The only thing I felt was you. Just you. I felt so safe. The whole time. When you were inside me and above me, I've never felt so safe and loved. You felt perfect."
He kisses me. Softly. The kiss of a man who has more feelings than his body can contain and is trying to communicate them through the only means available.
He carefully rolls off me and pulls me against him. I settle into my spot built for my head.
"I want to do that again," I say after a minute.
"Oh my God! Right now? You gotta give me a few minutes, darling, to recharge."
I snort back a laugh. "No, not right now. But again. Regularly. I want this to be part of what we do."
"Stormy, I am enthusiastically, completely, on board with that. Top, bottom, sideways. I don't care who's where or who is doing what. I only care that it's me and you. We'll switch off. We'll do whatever feels right on whatever night feels right. Some nights you drive, some nights I drive—"
"Some nights we flip a coin?" I tease.
"Yes! That's perfect! I was just going to suggest a coin. It adds an element of suspense."
"Tex, I was joking. We're not flipping a coin."
"Why not? We could get a special coin made up. A sex coin. One side says top, the other says—"
"Tex."
"Okay, maybe not a coin flip, but we'll figure out something. You can always choose. I like you making decisions for me. Takes the stress off."
I settle back against him. His arm comes around me. The muscular arm that has carried me and held me and pinned a monster to the floor so I could hit him.
The rally is in two weeks and the trim isn't finished. The second floor is still a construction zone. The winter is coming and money is tight, but none of that matters right now.
Right now, the only thing that matters is the fact that I'm lying in my own bed in my own home with the man I chose and every single piece of me that was ever taken has been given back.
Because of Tex.
I close my eyes. The dark behind my eyelids is just dark now. Not a place where bad things live. Just dark. The quiet, safe, ordinary dark that comes before sleep for people who are not afraid.
And I'm not afraid anymore.
I'm home.