Chapter 21
Talon
It’s a challenge eating dinner next to Zeke and not touching him the entire time. My body thinks that because I’ve finally verbalized my attraction to him, I should have three points of physical contact at all times.
I can’t say I disagree.
Zeke eats more these days, which makes me happy, and he’s climbing back to a healthy weight. He’s also been asked to audition for a role at the theater soon, which I think would be great for him, but he’s hesitant, no doubt carrying trauma from the opening night of his last play.
I don’t push, but reassure him that whenever he’s ready, I’m here to help.
“I’ve got clean-up duty since you cooked,” Zeke says once we’re both finished eating. It’s a routine we adopted quickly, and knowing his need to contribute, I don’t argue.
“I’ll get the movie queued up,” I tell him.
Moving into the living room, I flip on the gas logs and turn on a lamp on the far end table, setting the mood.
I scroll through a hundred streaming services until I find what I want, and then I wait.
Before today, Zeke always sat on the opposite end of the couch from me, or a different piece of furniture entirely, but in light of our recent conversation, I’m curious to see where he chooses to sit tonight, hoping his choice brings him closer.
Suddenly, my nerves flare to life, and the feeling is foreign.
Are we together? We didn’t really specify. Being attracted to someone isn’t the same thing as wanting to date them. Maybe I didn’t make myself clear. Is bringing it up again now too soon?
I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts, I don’t realize the man I’m obsessing over is standing behind me, leaning over the couch.
“Do you want a re—”
“Jesus!” I yell, jumping six inches into the air, knocking the bottle of wine out of Zeke’s hand. I hear it hit something that sounds suspiciously like a tooth before the bottle falls onto the couch, spilling its contents everywhere.
“Shit! Ohmygod, Talon, I’m so sorry!” Zeke yells back, racing into the kitchen for something to clean up the mess.
Meanwhile, I jump over the back of the couch to make sure he’s okay after my clumsy move.
Catching him at the sink, I grab him by the shoulders, spinning him to face me.
“Are you okay?” I ask, probably overreacting, as I cup his face, trying to see if I split his lip.
“I’m fine. Really,” he says. “But I’m pretty sure I just ruined your couch.”
“I don’t care about the couch,” I tell him honestly, my eyes fixed on his.
Instinctively, I take a step closer, my thumbs brushing across his cheekbones, following the path my knuckle took earlier.
The spill forgotten, my mind calms because he isn’t bleeding, and I didn’t chip his teeth.
“This is only going to work if we communicate very clearly. About everything,” I tell him.
My heart is racing and my blood is pounding in my ears.
Reading between the lines, he grips my waist.
“What do you want to communicate right now?” he asks.
“That I want to kiss you.”
“Have you ever kissed a guy before?”
“No,” I answer honestly, leaning closer, knowing I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want this.
“I’m afraid of what will happen if you don’t like it,” Zeke admits.
“I’m more afraid of what will happen when I do,” I tell him through panted breaths. He looks like he’s about to ask more questions, but I’m literally dying over here, so I whisper, “Can I? Please?”
Finally, he nods, and I’m in heaven.
I move slowly, allowing him time to anticipate my moves. Not wanting to spook him or lose control, I move my hands from his face to his back, embracing him. The moan that escapes from my mouth does so involuntarily, and I feel him smile.
“Okay, so maybe you like it a little,” he says against my lips.
“More,” I answer, desperately wanting him to stop talking and fuse our mouths together again.
I could kiss him all fucking night. Every fucking night.
Pulling that bottom lip I love so much into my mouth, I suck gently, my cock hardening when Zeke melts against me. Our tongues dance as I savor the flavor of the sparkling wine on his tongue.
I fight the growing need to rut against him, ever conscious of how he’s been treated in the past, when his voice breaks through.
“I’m not as fragile as you think,” he says, reaching forward to cup me through my pants, but I stop him.
“Slowly. We should go slowly,” I say, more as a reminder to myself than anything.
“You said we need to communicate very clearly. If it’s too much, I’ll tell you, but right now, I need you to tell me what you want. Even if the experience wasn’t great, I’ve at least done this before.”
“Don’t remind me,” I say immediately, searching his eyes for any sign that he thinks he owes me or that this is in some way transactional or expected of him, but I find nothing. His cheeks are still red, his pupils are blown out, and his chest is rising and falling as rapidly as mine.
Trust him, I tell myself.
“I…I don’t know,” I finally answer. I mean, I know, but I don’t know how to say it without sounding selfish.
“Do you want me to get you off?” he asks, causing my breathing to hitch.
“Yes.” But also, I want so much more than that.
Taking my hand, he leads me to the unstained living room couch. Hooking his fingers in the waistband of my pants, he slides them down. Once they’re past my knees, I kick them off one leg as he pushes on my shoulders, forcing me to sit.
Climbing onto my lap, he keeps his butt across my knees as he strips his shirt off overhead. It’s the first time I’ve seen his naked torso without the colorful reminder of his past. Instantly, my hands fly toward him, but I pause an inch from his skin.
Covering my hands with his, he guides me to his body, and my cock jerks between us.
Zeke notices the movement, and a smile spreads across his kiss-swollen lips before he spits into his hand and begins stroking me.
“Holyfuckingshit. That feels so good,” I groan as my hands roam over his body, desperate to touch every inch of skin I can reach.
He stays silent, focused on the sight between us, causing my protective nature to override my pleasure as I check in with him.
“Hey, are you okay? I know this is the first time you’ve been with someone since…
” I trail off, unsure how to finish my sentence. The shitty options are endless.
Since you were with Derek.
Since being beaten.
Since having surgery.
Since finding out I’m your boss.
“I’m okay. Just taking it all in. This is all kind of a first for me, too.” My confusion must paint my features because Zeke leans forward and kisses me while maintaining a firm grip on my shaft. “I’ll explain later, but can we get back to the good part? I really want to watch you come undone.”
The blunt way he just throws it out there has me balancing precariously on the edge.
“You won’t have to wait long.”
I keep my hands on Zeke’s naked torso, relishing the feel of him beneath my fingers. They itch to dig into his skin, but I rub my hands back and forth instead, not wanting to leave a mark.
Zeke looks down, and a trail of saliva connects his mouth to my dick as he adds more spit for lubrication. His hand picks up speed as he works me over, and he lifts my shirt out of the way of my impending release.
“Shit, Zeke, I’m gonna come,” I announce.
“Show me,” he commands, pushing me the final distance over the edge.
Despite jerking off more than usual since Zeke moved in, the volume is high. I’m almost embarrassed about it, but the satisfied smile on his face calms my nerves.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he says, slowing down, but still stroking me.
Totally blissed out, my head falls to the back of the couch, and my hands slide to Zeke’s thighs because I’m unable to hold them up any longer.
A minute or two pass in silence, and then I feel Zeke shifting off my lap, and my eyes spring open.
“Don’t go.” God, when did I become so needy?
He chuckles, and the sound goes straight to my empty balls.
“I’m coming right back. Let me get something to clean you up with.”
“Here, just use my shirt.”
I rip my shirt overhead, and I swear Zeke stops breathing as his eyes grow wide, causing me to look down in alarm because the expression on his face makes me think something is crawling on me. But I’m confused because nothing’s there.
“What?” I ask stupidly.
“I mean, I knew you were in good shape, but um, I wasn’t prepared for,”—he waves his hand up and down at my stomach—“all this.”
Relief floods my system.
“It’s okay, then?” I ask, suddenly needing his validation.
“Okay is a bit of an understatement,” he says, looking down at his own torso. “Why me?” he asks again.
“Why you what?” I ask, absentmindedly tracing shapes on his thighs, hating the layer that separates me from his skin.
“Why are you attracted to me? Why do you want to get involved in the mess that is my life?”
With two fingers under his chin, I lift his head until he’s looking at me.
“I grew up privileged. Not just financially, but with the best parents and siblings in the world. I was protected. I was loved. I was educated and supported. I knew that my position in life was envied by others, but it wasn’t until I was seventeen and trying to get a date for the prom that I had my first taste of what it’s like when people want what you can offer them more than they actually want you. ”
“What happened?” he asks, slowly dragging my shirt across my stomach.
I don’t stop him this time because if I’m going to tell this story, the distraction is kind of nice.
“I’ve always been decently self-confident,” I start.
“As you should be,” Zeke interjects, making me smile.
“Thank you,” I say, accepting the compliment. “So, when it was time for prom, I decided to ask this girl I’d had a crush on since eighth grade if she’d go with me. Looks-wise, she was way out of my league.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Zeke says, interrupting me again.
“Do you want me to answer your question or not?” I ask playfully.
“Depends on how this story ends, I guess. Did you fuck her?” he asks, completely serious.
The question makes me laugh, but only because I know how the story ends.
“Most definitely not,” I assure him.
“Okay, then you can continue. I’ll be quiet.”
“Anyway, she agreed to go with me, and I was elated. Long story short, her best friend was dating a friend of mine who told me Michelle had this whole plan to drug herself, blame me, and take my family to court, knowing we’d most likely want to settle before word got to the press.”
“Ohmygod! That bitch was like, what? SEVENTEEN?” Zeke cries in outrage.
“Yeah. Turns out her dad had recently lost his job, and they were at risk of losing everything. I know her parents put her up to it, and to this day, I don’t blame her.
People will do scary things when they think they have no other choice,” I say, hoping Zeke knows I’m at least kind of peripherally familiar with how he feels about his past, and that I’d never hold his decisions against him.
“But all that to say, I broke it off, ended up not even going to prom at all that year, and learned a valuable lesson about what happens when people find out how much I’m worth.
I become a means to an end instead of the prize itself.
But with you…” I have to pause because my throat begins to tighten.
Zeke cups my face, kissing me sweetly, giving me the strength I need to finish my statement.
“But I’ve never felt like that with you.
I feel like you see me. And you remind me that life is full of simple joys that have nothing to do with money at all. You restore my faith in humanity.”
“You give me more credit than I deserve, Talon,” he whispers.
“You deserve the world, Zeke. And I want to give it to you.”