Chapter 14 #2
Pressing my mouth to his throat, his pulse hammered against my lips. His hands glided down my back, fingernails drawing over my skin, before gripping me as I traced my tongue along the sensitive spot just beneath his jaw. His hips shifted, pushing hard into mine, making me gasp at the friction.
“Please” he said, his voice strained. “I need you to—”
“I know what you need,” I murmured against the hot skin of his throat, as my hands moved lower, fingers curving over the jut of his hip bones.
His hands slid up to my shoulders, tightening as I kissed a path towards his chest. I bucked, and pushed him onto his back, pulling a surprised gasp from him.
He looked up at me as I hovered over him, and smiled.
My lips found him again. His skin was slick with sweat, and salty against my lips, as I kissed and licked my way down, through the light scattering of hair on his chest, on his belly.
My chest thrilled at every subtle reaction: the tensing of lean muscles, the shivers that ran through him, his ragged breathing, and the way his fingers curled against my skin when I pressed my mouth against his hip bone.
I looked up at him and my heart clenched. His expression was so open, so unguarded, so trusting, it made my chest ache. “Still with me?” I asked, my voice rough and barely steady.
Kit swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Keep going.”
I pressed a kiss to his stomach before popping the button on the waistband of his jeans and lowering the zip.
Kit shifted, lifting his hips slightly to help me slide them lower.
Kissing along the ridge of his hip bone, he trembled beneath me as his fingers slipped into my hair, not pushing, just holding on.
I could feel the anticipation in him, the way his body leant into every touch.
I closed my eyes. As much as my body demanded I surge forward, and race to the finish line, my heart was whispering to take my time, to savour and relish every single moment, to make sure I gave Kit everything he wanted and needed. To make sure he felt everything.
“Tell me if you need me to stop,” I said softly.
Kit exhaled a shaky laugh. “Not a chance.”
His trust settled deep in my bones, and I pressed one last kiss to his hip before inching lower.
I continued my descent, lips tracing the subtle ridges of Kit’s lower abdomen.
Breathing in deep, his scent saturated my senses as the faint aroma of his body wash mixed with the musk of his sweat.
The intimacy of the moment was a tangible thing, the crackle of electricity in the air, unlike any encounter I’d had before.
With Kit, I wanted to take my time, to explore every inch of him, to make him feel seen, desired, wanted.
My hands, usually confident, trembled as I hooked my fingers under the waistband of his underwear.
I could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, as I began to ease the fabric down, over the hard bulge of his arousal.
My breath caught, and I knew with every part of me that I would never, ever, forget this moment, a first in so many indefinable ways.
He shivered as his skin goosebumped. His pulse quickened beneath my lips as I kissed the inside of his thigh.
I took my time, extending and stretching out the moment, losing myself in the taste of him, the scent of his skin, the way his body responded to mine, as I moved closer to where he wanted me most.
Kit gasped, his nails scratching over my scalp as I pressed my face into the heat of his groin and breathed in long and deep, filling my lungs with him. I pulled back, catching my breath as I gazed down at his cock, flushed and engorged, precum glistening on the swollen head.
“You’re beautiful, so fucking beautiful,” I murmured, as I traced the tip of my tongue from the base to the tip, where I lapped at the salty, bitter wetness. I placed a small, soft kiss on the tip, before I took him into my mouth.
Above me, Kit released a low, guttural sound that went straight to my balls.
I could feel the oncoming rush of my own release, and I fumbled for the zip on my jeans, plunging my hand in and pressing on the base of my dick to stem the rising tide.
Unlike all the times that had gone before, none of this was about me, about what I wanted.
Regaining the control I’d almost lost, I slowed my pace, my senses hyper aware as I felt the heat and weight of him, the pulse of his blood beneath the surface, the tension in his body as I explored every inch of him.
I found a rhythm, my lips and tongue working in tandem, my hands gripping his hips to hold him steady.
He thrust upwards, matching my rhythm, his moans and gasps growing louder.
As the tension built in him, I pulled back slightly, prolonging the moment, teasing him with light flicks of my tongue, making him wait, making him want.
I glanced up and his eyes met mine, and the raw need in them sent a surge of heat through me.
Increasing the pressure, the pace, I took him deeper until the head of his cock hit the back of my throat.
My jaw strained, and my neck ached. But I wanted more, wanted to give him more.
The rhythm of his breathing changed, became more ragged, his moans more desperate, matching the plea in his eyes.
I kept my gaze locked on his, wanting to see him unravel, wanting to watch him come undone.
Reaching his climax, his body shuddered beneath my touch and he cried out.
Salty and bitter, pulse after pulse, he filled my mouth.
I swallowed him down, gripping his hips hard, bruising him, as he rode out the waves of his release.
I stayed with him, my hands slackening, my mouth softening, my tongue slowing.
As he came down from the high, I pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his stomach, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath, tasting the salt of his sweat, the sweetness of his skin.
I could smell the scent of us, combined and uniquely ours, my own release sticky and smeared against my jeans.
I didn’t care, because nothing that had happened between us was about me.
Somehow, we found the energy to stagger off to bed, stripping away what was left of our clothes before climbing under the covers.
Kit snuggled up to me, and instantly fell asleep, leaving me to stare up at the moonlight painted ceiling.
Sleep evaded me as I lay on my back, one arm thrown across the cool expanse of the sheet, the other resting against the curve of Kit’s bare shoulder.
The silence was broken only by the faint hum of the city beyond the windows, and Kit’s soft, even breathing.
Kit shifted, resting his head on my chest, his hair slightly damp.
I thought he was still asleep, yet when I looked down his eyes were wide open and gazing at me with something that looked like happiness.
My heart jolted. Happy. It wasn’t a word I’d ever had much use for.
His fingers began to trace idle patterns over my stomach, featherlight and almost absentminded.
The touch was gentle, calm and unhurried, at odds with the tangled, racing mess inside my head.
This wasn’t what I did. Sex had always been simple, nothing more than a fuck.
Physical. A release. As soon as it was done and over with I was turning away, the man already forgotten.
No lingering afterwards, no quiet moments like this, no warmth that spread deeper than skin.
But with Kit, everything felt different.
Everything.
I followed the movement of his hand over my stomach, the gentle glide of his fingers faintly ticklish. I liked it, the connection, just as I liked the way his body seemed to fit so naturally alongside mine. I looked away, afraid he’d see in my face the ache that tugged deep in my chest.
“You’re quiet,” Kit murmured, his voice low and sleepy.
“So are you.”
“Not at my most coherent at the moment if I’m honest. My brain’s feeling like it’s taken a bit of a pounding. Amongst other parts of my body.”
I laughed as I turned back to him. “Yet you can still use words like coherent?”
“I’m an educated boy, but I reckon I’ve used up my store of grown up words.” His fingers, still meandering, came to a stop. “You okay?”
Kit tilted his head, studying me, scrutinising, taking all of me in, looking for signs that, maybe, I wasn’t.
It was such a simple question, but it caught me off guard. I nodded, my throat tightening slightly. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
Kit didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he shifted closer, his head settling more firmly against my chest. For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
The warmth of his skin was soothing, and I found myself running my fingers up and along the ridges of his shoulder blades, tracing the shape of him.
“You’ve gone quiet again,” I said.
Kit sighed. “Just thinking. About everything. About this. And…” I heard his hesitation.
“Kelvin.” It wasn’t a question, and his body tensed against mine.
“Maybe,” he admitted after a moment, his voice quieter now.
“You don’t have to worry about him.”
Kit laughed, but there was no humour there. “That’s easy for you to say.”
“I promise you I’ll deal with it. He doesn’t get to do that to you,” I said, my voice low but firm. “Not to you.”
Kit said nothing, and in the silence I could swear I heard him thinking, turning over what I’d said.
“I’m serious, Kit. If he comes near you again—”
“Then I’ll be prepared.”
“But you shouldn’t have to be.”
We lapsed back into silence. Kit’s body, flush against mine, relaxed, as once more his fingers resumed their gentle exploration.
I closed my eyes and leant into his touch without meaning to. When I opened them again, Kit was watching me, his gaze steady, as though waiting for an answer to a question.
“This is new for me. All of it.” Words I never thought I would say to any man.
“Like this, you mean? How we are now?”
I hesitated, my fingers curling. “Yes. Afterwards. Not wanting to run. Just wanting to be.”
For a moment, Kit didn’t say anything. Then he smiled, a small, almost shy thing. “It feels like we were meant to find each other. That we’re kind of like a lock and a key, or two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.”
The idea that this, whatever this was, was somehow ordained, dug deep into me. Just weeks before I’d have laughed it off, dismissing it with a sneer for the ridiculous fairy tale I’d have believed it to be, but in the warmth of the bed…
Silence, once more, wound itself around us, but this time it felt easier, lighter. I let my fingers trail up across his body, feeling each steady thud of his heartbeat against my ribs.
There was no need to fill the silence with words, no need to be anything other than what I was in that moment: just a man, lying next to someone I didn’t want to let go of.
“I don’t know what this is,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “but I don’t want it to stop.”
“Then let’s not let it.”
I pulled him closer, surprised at how right it felt, his body fitting against mine like it had always belonged there. I didn’t question it. I didn’t analyse it. I just let myself feel it. But more than anything, I knew I didn’t need, or want, to fight it.