29. Jorge
Jorge
Motion Of Love
“ I t’d be so much easier to just get fucked up,” Oli growls, pacing in my living room—sans shoes because he threw up all over his work boots.
By the time I got to his work, Morgan had fled the scene.
“No, it wouldn’t. That’s avoiding the issue.”
“Like you’d know?”
I blow out a breath, trying to keep my cool because Oli is deranged right now. He’s completely off his rocker. Eyes wide, hair wild, and panting like a chained tiger, he hasn’t stopped talking about relapsing since we got back. “I wouldn’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand.”
“Fuck that. Fuck this , Jorge. I’m sick of it. Sick of being such a broken fuck. I should’ve knocked him down. Should’ve beat the living shit out of him, and I froze. I froze. ”
“That’s not your fault,” I try to pacify him, but it makes it worse.
“It is . All of this is my fault!” He throws a punch, creating a nice-sized hole in my wall.
“You’re going to fix that,” I grumble. “What do you want to do about it? Being angry isn’t going to change a fucking thing. Getting high isn’t either, Oli. Do you want to report his ass? We can go down to the station right now.”
“It’s too late for that,” he huffs, shaking his hand and eyeing the wall with guilt. “Statute of limitations or whatever.”
“So? He’s a fucking predator! Maybe he’s done it to someone else, and all they need is your voice to put him in jail!” I can’t help but raise my voice.
We have to do something. We can’t just let this go on.
“I don’t have a voice! That’s why this happened! Because I couldn’t fucking speak. Not even to you!”
I flinch at the pain in his words.
“You all but walked in on it happening. You saw me leave. You saw me. And I said nothing. Nothing.” Raking both hands through his hair, he spins in place like he’s searching for something—anything to make it better.
“Oli, I’m trying to help. It’s all I know how to do. Let me fucking help.”
“His dad is the chief of police!”
“Retired,” I point out.
“So?”
“So? Are you going to keep making excuses? I’m not letting this slide.” I stand firm, pulling out my dad voice and everything.
His eyes narrow into slits. “Excuses? That’s what you think this is?”
“It’s exactly what this is. You were assaulted, again , by Morgan, and you want to resort to drugs instead of facing this. You aren’t alone anymore. You don’t have to shoulder this weight. That’s why I’m here. Let me carry it. Let me fucking help you.”
“Maybe I don’t want help,” he whispers, dropping his hands from his head and giving me his back. “Being miserable is familiar.”
“Cut that shit out right now.”
Stomping over to him, I blow his personal bubble to bits and poke at his chest. He gasps, shocked that I’d take such bold action, but I’m done waiting for permission to love him. I’m done enabling his avoidance. Nothing will ever change this way.
I know he is terrified. I know he has lived a life trapped inside the damage that was done. If he truly wanted to stay bundled in his blanket of trauma, he would have never befriended me.
I’m the type of person who will shove so far into your shit that you don’t know where I begin and you end. That’s why whenever someone needs a hero, they call me. Oli knows this. I might not have trauma like he does, I might not have had my choice ripped from me without a care in the world, but I can’t let him remain stagnant. An entire soul is waiting for permission to poke its head out into the world again. If Oli won’t acknowledge it, then I will.
He’s expressed to me several times that he wants this. Us, a life, a real fucking chance at a future. I’ll be damned if I let him hide behind his armor for another second. For so long, I wasn’t sure if I needed to be inside it with him for this to work. I’m sure now. He doesn’t want to be trapped anymore. He wants a fucking lifeline to pull him to freedom.
“I found you homeless, strung out, stinky, and so fucking sad. I found you desperate, scared, and alone in the world. But guess what?” I prompt. He blinks away his anger, replacing it with something softer.
“What?”
“I didn’t give you a home. I didn’t get you sober and clean. That was you, babe. All you. You wanted it badly enough to reach for it.” I thrust my hand out, showing him something physical. “You want out of the hole? I’m offering you a lifeline. If you want justice, fucking take it. Just take it, Oli.”
He stares at my hand much like he did the first time I asked him to hold it. “It’s pointless,” he rasps. “It’s too late.”
“I will give it to you. I will make it happen. Just show me you want it. Show me you want more .”
Our eyes meet, and he swallows hard. It takes long seconds before he slides his hand in mine. “I’ve always wanted more.”
“Then it’s yours. I swear it.”
Squeezing our fingers together, he steps closer and cups my face. “I’m sorry I was shitty.”
I nuzzle into his hand because I’m still so desperate for his touch. “I’m sorry I got harsh.”
“Are you alright?” He searches my eyes.
“I’ve been better, but this helps.”
Oli releases me, and for a split second, I nearly scream at him to put his hands back, but he curls me in his strong arms. I wrap mine around his neck, clinging to him desperately and pressing soft kisses to his cheek. It feels so good to hold him, to smell him, and know that he’s still with me. My heart pitter-patters like crazy. And because I simply can’t help it, I kiss his cheek repeatedly until he’s laughing.
“There you are,” I praise, leaning back to look into his eyes. I gently stroke the laugh lines by them while he holds me. “Can I kiss you, beautiful?”
“Yes,” he breathes and crushes his mouth to mine.
A needy whimper squeaks past my lips. Flashes of the last time we were intimate consume my thoughts, and I have to instantly scold myself for doing it. He just had a traumatic experience—there’s no way he’d want to do anything. But even as I tell myself that, Oli curls his tongue around mine. His hand slips below my waist, resting suspiciously over my ass. I keep my arms around his neck, locking them so I don’t grab his face and force it this way or that way.
Burning need licks up my spine and spreads throughout my lower stomach as my cock tingles and fills.
Fuck.
I try to break the kiss, but Oli doesn’t let me go. His fingers dig into my asscheeks, pressing our fronts impossibly close. My eyes roll in their sockets when he grinds into me, flicking his tongue over my teeth. Warning bells ring out in my skull. We got way too into it last time, and look what happened.
“Jorge,” he rumbles against my lips.
“Oli, slow down,” I pant. Even as he pulls back, I chase his mouth, negating my words.
Chuckling, he hoists me onto his hips and carries me towards my room while I nibble on his neck. “Don’t worry, we’re just going to cuddle,” he says in a teasing tone that has me growling like a wild animal and sucking on his skin.
He lays me down on the bed, about to join, before he grimaces and looks down at his jumper. “Let me take this off.”
My eyes bug out of my skull, but I slurp them right back in.
Fisting the comforter under me, I try to will my cock to go down, but it refuses. It’s standing at attention and bucking against my zipper while Oli peels that navy blue uniform off his shoulders. Once down to his hips, revealing a black undershirt and the waistband of his briefs, I choke a little.
“You will stop, right?” he asks carefully.
“The rules won’t change, beautiful. You say stop, and I stop.”
He nods, takes a breath, and pulls the jumper off. This is the first time I’ve really gotten to look at him. He’s still clothed mostly, but his legs are bare. The quads on them are thick and firm. Blond hair covers the lengths, and his cock is tenting his briefs. I wet my lips, still as a statue except for the rise and fall of my chest.
With his hands on his hips, he eyes me expectantly. “Oh,” I say through an excited laugh and strip like Bruce Almighty.
Throwing my pants and shirt across the room, I’m left in my briefs, the evidence of my arousal staining the tip covering my dick. Oli starts to lift the hem of his shirt but decides against it. “Should I rinse off?” he asks.
“Do you want to?”
Lifting his arm, he sniffs his pit and shrugs. “I don’t think I smell.”
“I’m sure you’re fine.”
My chest thuds almost painfully at the realization. He doesn’t want to stink because he’s anticipating me doing things to him.
Holy fuck.
I’m probably going to suck some cock right now.
Oli’s cock. That big, thick, juicy thing.
My eyes glue to his straining length, wondering what it will taste like. Wondering if he’ll even want that. I mean, he’s gotta, right? That’s what we’re doing?
“It just occurred to me,” I croak, “that we’re going to…you know.” I wave at his crotch. When his eyebrow arches, I say, “I’m okay with it. The whole…gay or bisexual thing. I know I’m a little gay. Even Michael said so.”
“Woah. Hold on. Are you alright?” Oli kneels on the bed, worried now.
“I’m fine,” I squeak and slap my chest. His eyes rip the truth right out of me. “What if I suck at blow jobs? Before, it was fine because I knew you didn’t want that from me. Judging by that boner and your lack of pants, I’d say you definitely want that from me right now. Which, okay. Cool. Blowjobs.”
I feel faint.
Oli laughs. He fucking laughs at me. Crawling over me and effectively pinning me flat to my bed, I stare up at him. “How are you more nervous than me right now?”
“I wasn’t two seconds ago. But now I am.” Seriously, I might pass out from the nerves.
“Well, if it makes you feel better, I wasn’t going to ask for that.”
“No?”
Shaking his head, he rubs his thumb over my lips, and my cock gives a mighty throb. When he lifts his hips slightly, angling his dick over mine, I gasp. “I was going to try out something new.”
“Which is?”
He searches my face. There’s a softness behind his lust, reverence, I suppose. “Being in the moment. You said you would stop, and I…I trust you.” Pressing a soft kiss to my lips, he waits for me to gather myself.
I sniffle loudly. “Seriously?”
“I’m serious. Sometimes, it’s hard to admit, but I do trust you, Jorge. I trusted you with my heart first; it makes sense that I trust you with the rest, too.”
“I’d never hurt you, beautiful. Never. ” I slide my palm over his cheek, careful of his ears.
“You can touch them,” he whispers, tilting his head so my fingertips brush over the one.
“You’re going to make me cry,” I blubber, feeling like I’m floating.
“Don’t cry.” It’s a wisp of air against my lips before he captures them in a kiss.
Resting the majority of his weight on his left elbow, he holds my hip with his free hand and thrusts. It's a single movement, but my toes instantly curl. I wish we were skin-on-skin, but I won’t rush him. Besides, we’re supposed to be in the moment. Sucking his bottom lip between mine, I nibble on it before swiping my tongue to soothe the sting. Oli groans, rolling his hips so our cocks get more friction.
A million spine-tingling sensations burst through me while Oli humps my dick. With careful hands, I lower them down to his sides. He tenses only for a moment before thrusting harder, sweet sounds rushing up from his throat. Precum dribbles out of my slit, soaking my briefs. I spread my legs wider to accommodate his large size.
Every second that passes, Oli grows more confident.
His free hand slides to the base of my throat, applying light pressure that has me whimpering and meeting him thrust for thrust. The gentle swipe of his fingers over my skin, the heat from his mouth, and the pressure of his big dick over mine is going to make me come embarrassingly quick. My balls are drawn up tight; my lower stomach clenches with anticipation.
And just when I feel my orgasm cresting, he stops. “Wait,” he rumbles.
I’m breathless, my cock flexing like I might come anyway.
Scrambling to his knees, Oli rips his shirt off. I quickly squeeze the base of my dick at the sight of his abs and wide, firm chest. “Babe,” I rasp.
His hair cradles his face as he lowers back over me, cupping my cock as he does. I whine like a needy whore when he squeezes and then hooks his index finger in the elastic waistband. “In the moment,” he whispers. I don’t know who it’s meant for, but I nod eagerly.
Wasting no time, he pulls my underwear down enough to free my dick and smears the fresh precum all over the head. I cry out, hypersensitive and so horny I’m going cross-eyed. My neck cranes as I roll my head over the pillow, tense everywhere while he plays with me. Pulse after pulse of slick comes out. My toes keep curling and uncurling. And when he fists my shaft, I whimper, bucking into it.
“Feel good?” he asks.
“The best. So good,” I tell him, glancing down to watch.
I honestly don’t know how it could get any better. His touch is my fucking kryptonite, I swear. “Next time, I’m going to suck your cock, kitten.”
A whole body shudder ripples through my skeleton. “Oli,” I beg him and reach.
Those pretty green eyes darken, and he surprises me once more. With quick movements, he pulls his dick out, pins me down again, and we are skin-on-skin. I don’t get to look at it properly; I only feel it. God, I feel him everywhere. The silken texture of his cock sliding across my slippery one is too much—I can’t stop it.
He thrusts, claiming my mouth again, and I come.
Guttural noises echo off the walls while my balls empty all over him and me. He rumbles against my lips, pleased that I’m coming everywhere, and picks up his pace to follow right behind me. I clutch his back, overstimulated and spent, but I don’t want it to stop.
Breaking the kiss, he buries his face in the crook of my neck and grunts.
I feel the new heat, the flex of his cock, and the tremble in his muscles.
“That’s it, babe. God, you’re so sexy.”
He collapses on top of me, squishing our spent dicks together in one sticky mess. And when he nuzzles me, pressing gentle kisses to my skin and tickling me with his beard, I curl my arms around him. “Thank you,” he breathes. “I—”
“Shh. I know, beautiful.”
Nodding, he continues to kiss and rub. “Smell so good.”
I chuckle. “I do?”
“Mhm. Like strawberries and mint.”
“You smell good too. Like mystical vapors.”
He laughs so loud I feel it in my belly.