18. Silas
EIGHTEEN
SILAS
Not once in the years I’ve been sexually active have I ever asked anyone to fuck me. Not once.
And here I am, asking the man I never thought I’d have to do just that. The one thing I never trusted anyone with because I was always too afraid of remembering it for the rest of my life.
Vaughn is studying me. “Are you sure?”
I reach between us and wrap my hand around his cock, hard and warm and exactly what I want, and stroke slowly.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m sure.”
“Silas.” His voice is strained, and his Adam’s apple bobs when I run my thumb over the head of his cock. “I mean it. Are you sure?”
“I’ve never done this with anyone else,” I say. “Not once.”
He goes still.
“You’ve never—”
“Never wanted to. Until now.”
He considers me for a long moment. “I’m happy to bottom. In fact”—his eyes drop to my cock and then come back up to my face, and the heat in them is not subtle—“I’m very happy to bottom.”
“I know,” I say. “But here’s the thing. There’s a chance that when the lust fog clears we might agree this was a mistake.
Or that we can’t do it again. That it’s too complicated.
” I hold his gaze. “If that’s what happens, then I want my first time to be with you.
Not with someone else later.” I shake my head. “I want it to be you.”
Vaughn reaches up and touches my face with gentleness, his thumb caressing the hair under my bottom lip.
“Do we need condoms?” he asks.
“No,” I say immediately.
He laughs. “I’m not on PrEP, but I test regularly. I’m negative.”
“I’m on PrEP. Also negative.”
“Okay.”
He reaches over to the nightstand and retrieves the lube and sets it on the bed next to us, then he sits up, and because I’m still on top of him, the movement tips me forward, which puts us face-to-face and with hands free to roam.
He begins first, hands moving over my thighs, my hips, my back, my chest. “I don’t even know where to start with you,” he says, his face filled with awe. “I never thought I’d get to do this.”
“We have time,” I say. “And we don’t have to stop after one orgasm. Let’s make it all count.”
I try to shift off his lap, but his hands tighten on my hips.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Don’t you want me on the bed? Like on my back or—”
“No,” he says. “This is perfect.”
He holds my gaze and reaches for the lube, adding a good amount to his fingers.
When he reaches behind me, I tense. I’ve been on the other side of the equation—the one to prep, be careful to make sure my partner feels safe, even if it’s just a hookup—but now that I’m on the receiving end, my body doesn’t know what to do.
Vaughn’s looking at me with wonder, so I relax.
“I want to see that pretty little hole,” he says, his voice low, as his finger finds me and presses gently.
“I want to lick it and kiss it. But this time I need to be like this.” He gets the finger inside me, and I exhale completely.
“I need to see your eyes,” he says, “and every microexpression in that beautiful face. I want to see how much darker your eyes get. I want to see those long eyelashes flutter closed as I move inside you.”
If only Vaughn knew there won’t be a single moment of tonight that won’t be permanently burned into my memory. Every sound, every touch, every expression on his face in this low light. My mind is recording all of it.
This might be the only time in my life when the one thing I’ve always considered a curse is now a gift.
I want to remember this. I want to remember every second of it.
He adds another finger, slowly, and I breathe through it, waiting for the stretch and the burn to fade. I need more, so I tilt my hips forward looking for it, and Vaughn watches my face. His cock is untouched, but it’s still hard against mine.
A third finger.
“Oh, fuck,” I cry.
“Okay?”
“More than okay.” Is it weird to like this burning sensation?
I reach down and wrap my hand around my own cock, which is leaking and has been demanding attention for longer than is strictly comfortable.
“Vaughn, I’m ready. Please.”
“It’s going to feel different,” he says. “We’re going to go slow. You’re in control, and you set the pace. You stop if you need to stop.”
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“Vaughn. Fuck, I’m not a virgin.”
“I know, Silas, but I’m not going to be a dick here. I want to take care of you.”
I sigh and rest my forehead against his. “I know. I’m just … a little nervous, and I want this so fucking much.”
He kisses me so slowly I forget what we’re doing other than I need more of everything.
He adds more lube to his cock and keeps his hand at the base, holding it steady for me.
I lower myself slowly. The first inch is … a lot. The pressure and stretch, the fullness, make me stop and breathe. Vaughn’s hands are on my hips, but he’s not pushing, not guiding, just holding, just there. Just looking at me like I’m everything.
So I keep going because I want to be everything for him, even if it can’t be forever.
Slow. An inch at a time. Stopping when I need to, breathing through it, feeling the burn ease into pleasure.
When I’m finally seated with Vaughn all the way inside me, I stop moving and just feel it.
Full. I feel so full.
“Silas.” Vaughn’s voice has lost most of its composure.
“I … ” don’t know what to say, so I move. Just slightly at first and then more, finding the rhythm.
We kiss. Deep and slow while I move, and he moves with me. We’re breathing each other’s air, and this is so fucking perfect I don’t deserve it.
“You feel so good,” he says against my mouth.
“So do you,” I say. “God, so do you.”
I sit back and put my hands on his thighs behind me, changing the angle, and Vaughn’s cock hits the spot.
I cry out loud, thankful he doesn’t have any close neighbors.
“Fuck. Fuck.”
“You are driving me wild, Silas. So fucking tight and beautiful. Look at you.”
I stop trying to make it last and chase the pleasure instead. I ride Vaughn’s cock with everything I have, chasing that angle, chasing that feeling. The room is full with the sound of us and the headboard against the wall and my own increasingly incoherent commentary.
“Touch me,” I say. “Vaughn, please, I need you to—”
He wraps his hand around me immediately, sure and steady, and strokes me in time with my movement. His face is that of a man coming undone because of me, and that’s what does it.
Not the hand. Not the angle. His face.
I come, long and hard and with his name in my mouth, my whole body shaking with it, and Vaughn strokes me through every second of it, his other hand gripping my hip, holding me steady while I fall apart on top of him.
I collapse against his chest.
He holds me, and for a moment we just breathe.
Then his hands find my waist, and he rolls us until I’m on my back. He’s still inside me.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I chuckle. “More than. Take what you need from me. I want to see you.”
I wrap my legs around him and pull him closer as he finds his rhythm. Every stroke and sound is amplified, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever heard in my life.
My ass is burning now, but I don’t care. I want to walk funny in the morning and feel every single stroke for days.
“Silas,” he cries, as if needing to let go but not wanting it.
“I’ve got you.”
He comes with my name on his lips. His cry filling the room and maybe also filling something inside me I didn’t know was empty, and I hold him through it the way he held me.
We stay there, entangled, breathing, not moving, not speaking.
Then I start laughing.
I can’t help it. Vaughn lifts his head, quirking an eyebrow in question.
“That’s not usually the post-sex reaction I get,” he says.
“You have nothing to worry about. Your performance is nine out of ten.”
He pushes inside me, stealing my breath. His cock is still a little hard. “What does a guy need to do to get the extra point?”
“Oh, that’s easy—make me come again tonight, and you’ll get your extra point with a cherry on top.”
“What were you laughing at, then?”
I scrunch up my face. This is probably too weird to admit. “Is it weird that I don’t want your come to slip out of me?”
He stares at me for one second, then he reaches around my hip and puts a finger inside me.
“That,” I say, “is also a little gross.”
“Nothing we do is gross.”
We stare at each other with silly grins, then I pull him down and kiss him, slow and thorough.
When we separate, I’m aware of the state of the bed. “These bedsheets are a mess.”
“Good thing I have a spare room,” Vaughn says.
“You want to sleep with me?”
“Don’t you want me to sleep with you?”
“No,” I say. “I mean, yes. I want you to sleep with me.”
He kisses me again. “Then let’s shower, and then we can fight over who gets to be the little spoon.”
“Me,” I say. “Obviously.”
He slaps my ass and gets up, extends his hand, and pulls me to my feet. We walk to the bathroom together, and as the light comes on, I watch us in the mirror. This is the one thing I’ve been avoiding for thirteen years. It’s also the best thing that’s happened to me in thirteen years.
I study Vaughn’s reflection, and he catches my eye and smiles.
Worth it.
Completely, entirely worth every careful, distant year.