Chapter 28 #2
I’ve been barely holding on this entire time, fighting the urge to come, but watching them together nearly sends me over the edge.
Freya picks up her speed, and Archer goes silent, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm.
She’s wearing a proud expression as she watches the waves of his climax roll over him.
I have no strength left in me to fight the onslaught of my own pleasure. Pounding two more times, I finally let it all go, and I come hard, filling the condom.
Someday, there won’t be a condom between us. That thought alone is enough to send me into another shock wave of pleasure. Someday, I want to watch as my seed spills from both of them. I want that level of trust between us.
Archer and I slowly start to recover, and I pull out, quickly removing the condom to discard it. While he’s still bent over the chaise and Freya is softly kissing his face, I unfasten his restraints before going to the bathroom for a wet washcloth to clean up.
“You guys must have a good system for keeping this furniture clean,” Archer says with humor as he gestures toward the cum stain he left on the lounge.
I chuckle as I quickly wipe it up. “We do. Don’t worry.”
Archer stands upright and stretches his body. His hair is tousled, and his skin has a glow from sweat and a blush from the orgasm. It’s so much better than scars and bruises.
“I could go for a shower,” he says.
“I’ll get it started for us,” I reply. Going into the bathroom, I turn on the water and pull out the towels. Freya and Archer join me, but after washing her hands and throwing some cool water on her face, Freya has a look of exhaustion to her.
“You guys mind if I lie down and skip the shower? I’m beat.”
We both kiss her cheeks on either side before she sleepily shuffles back into the bedroom and collapses on the large king-size bed.
“She did work her ass off today,” he says as he steps under the water.
I meet him in the spray, letting it slide through my hair and down my back. “She did.”
With a look of contemplation, he adds, “She deserves the world.”
I open my eyes to stare at him. “Yes, she does. And so do you.”
His eyes meet mine. “So do you.”
“Then it’s a good thing we have each other,” I reply.
“She loves us, Julian,” he mumbles quietly so that even if she’s still awake in the next room, I’m certain she couldn’t hear. Something about him pointing that out makes me tense.
“I know she does,” I say.
He runs his fingers through his hair, wetting the brown curls. Then he grabs the shampoo on the shelf and squirts some in his hand. After lathering up his own hair, he spins me around so I’m facing away from him and begins sudsing up mine.
“What are you trying to say, Archer?” I ask when I feel him evading the point.
His hands still before moving to my chest and pulling me tight against him. With his mouth near my ear, he softly whispers, “I think I love you both too.”
My lips tug a smile across my cheeks. He resumes washing my hair, and I lean back as I quietly reply, “You think?”
His chuckle echoes in the small tiled shower stall. “I don’t hear you saying it,” he argues.
“Because I don’t think I love you,” I say as he starts rinsing the water from my hair. His hands are gentle, his fingers running through the strands. When the soap is clear, I turn around to face him. “I know I do.”
For just a second, he appears to love this sentiment. The smile and warmth on his face are apparent. Then they just…fade away.
“What?” I ask.
“I don’t feel like the kind of guy who belongs in relationships with people like you.”
“People like me?” I ask.
“You and Freya.”
“What are you talking about, Archer?”
He huffs in exasperation. “I’m not a Hallmark card, roses on Valentine’s Day, romantic relationship guy, Jules.
I like fucked-up shit. I fight in alleyways and drink too much, and the ways I want to express my devotion to you probably aren’t the same as the ways you would want to express your devotion to me. ”
My eyes narrow as I stare at him. I get where he’s coming from, but sometimes I fear Archer has such low self-esteem that he thinks it makes him unworthy of love.
“I like fucked-up shit too, Arch.”
He shakes his head with a scoff. “Not like me.”
“You’d be surprised,” I say, touching his chin and guiding his face back toward me. “Be open with me, Archer. Tell me what you want. If you’re afraid of scaring Freya, I get it, but you won’t scare me.”
He nods, but I can tell he’s not really buying it. Instead, he reaches for the soap, and I press his hand away, not wanting to lose his attention.
“Tell me what you want, Archer. Let me prove to you that I’m yours.”
He bites his bottom lip but doesn’t relent. Instead, he gives a sarcastic chuckle and divulges no secrets.
“Please,” I persist.
When his eyes meet mine, I think for a moment that he’s finally about to open up, but he keeps his mouth closed and looks away.
Suddenly, I realize that I might already know what it is Archer wants and is too afraid to ask for.
And while it’s not genuinely something I fantasize about, more than anything, I want him to know I’m someone safe he can open up to.
Someone who won’t think his kinks and desires are too fucked up or sick.
I love him.
I’ll do anything for him.
So while he reaches for the soap again, I take a deep breath and slowly lower to my knees. He watches me with his brows knit together.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Proving it to you. Go ahead, Archer.”
“Go ahead and what?”
“Mark me. Make me yours.”
His lips part, his chest heaving as he drags in one heavy breath after another. I can see the gears moving in his head, the crippling indecision if he should really go through with this or not. He thinks he’ll be calling my bluff, but I have no bluff.
I’m sincerely telling him that I want what he wants.
“Stop it,” he says with a plea.
“Stop what?”
“Being so fucking perfect. You think I want to dirty you up?” he asks with a pained expression.
“You’re not dirtying me up, Arch. You’re proving to me and anyone else who ever might dare to touch me that I belong to you. What could possibly be dirty about that?”
His cock twitches in front of me, so he grabs it and squeezes it at the base to keep it from getting hard.
“You want it, don’t you?” I ask.
“Fuck yes, I want it.”
I lift my chin, staring into his eyes. “Then do it.”
He takes a deep breath, as if preparing himself. Then he steps toward me, keeping his eyes laser-focused on me. Grabbing me by the back of my head, he grits his teeth, looking dominant and powerful as he aims his cock for my chest.
I wait, holding his gaze. Then I feel the warm stream as it hits my skin. Archer lets out a whimpering sound, clearly turned on as he covers my chest with his urine.
Lifting my chin some more, I’m instantly surprised by how good this feels. Not the stream itself but the connection it forms between us. He’s staring at me, and I feel the trust in his gaze. I won’t berate or belittle him for this. I will accept him exactly the way he is.
He moves his cock, aiming it for my neck and down to my groin, dousing my half-hard cock. Closing my eyes, I let out a high-pitched moan, and not a bit of it feels as degrading as I expected it to feel. It only heightens the level of faith between us.
Nothing could possibly break us now.
When his bladder is empty, I open my eyes to find Archer gazing down at me with a feral, almost animalistic expression on his face. Closing his hand around my throat, he drags me to my feet and crashes his lips against mine.
Kissing me with passion and desire, he presses me against the wall of the shower. I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him close. His kisses are ravenous but don’t lead anywhere. They are kisses of love. Kisses of appreciation. Of gratitude.
When he finally stops to catch his breath, he keeps his mouth near mine. Panting, he mutters, “You’re right. I don’t think l love you. I fucking know it.”
Just before his mouth attacks mine again, I smile against his lips.