Chapter 8 Reid #3
He gives a twist of his hand, and I finally do.
My vision goes white as my climax hits me.
I let out a soft cry and arch my back as my release spatters onto my stomach.
His forehead drops to mine with a groan.
I hear him muttering something to me, but I can’t process it over the thundering in my ears.
But I feel him follow me over the edge while I’m still riding out the waves of pleasure.
I don’t know how long it takes, but as the high of my orgasm subsides, I feel Parker brushing soft kisses on my cheeks and neck.
He’s collapsed on top of me, his entire body weight pressing me into the mattress.
It’s like he’s crushing my soul back into my body.
Which I need right now because, despite coming down from my orgasm, I’m still a little detached from my body.
It orients me enough that I can process my surroundings and feelings—the first of which is uncomfortable prickling on my skin from our come drying between us.
When I’m by myself, cleaning the mess up is the first thing I do.
I can’t relax in the afterglow of endorphins otherwise.
I want to tell Parker, knowing he’d understand and wouldn’t judge me. But words are tough right now.
I inhale deeply, attempting to ground myself, and the move makes him stir.
“Sorry, am I crushing you?” he asks, propping up onto his elbow so he can look down at me. His face is still flushed, making the freckles on his cheeks more prominent. The sight calms me.
I shake my head and hum negatively, but otherwise don’t speak.
In a second, his blissful, relaxed expression is replaced with worry. “Are you okay? Did I do something to upset you? I’m sorry, I—”
I shake my head firmly and lift the hand not still tangled with his to cup his cheek. He quiets, allowing me to guide his mouth to mine. The kiss is gentle, but deep, and I try to pour everything I want to say into it.
I’m okay.
You didn’t upset me.
That was incredible.
I just need a minute.
It takes a moment, but he melts back into me. With every press of our lips, I feel a bit more grounded in my body. After a few long kisses, he pulls away and searches my face. I keep cupping his cheek and give him a soft smile.
“So I didn’t hurt you?” he asks, and I shake my head. “Do you just need a minute?”
I nod.
“But you’re okay?”
Another nod.
“And I was…” He doesn’t finish the question, but I can guess what he wants to know.
I bring our joined hands between us, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, then rest them on my chest over my heart. “Perfect,” I whisper.
Any worry lingering on his face clears. “You were perfect,” he says with a light kiss on the tip of my nose.
I chuckle, more of a huff than anything, then glance down between us.
His eyes follow mine, and his cheeks go pink. “Oh, um, I’ll go get us a wet washcloth to clean up.”
I nod gratefully, and after another kiss to my nose, he rolls away. He sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, but before he can stand, my hand shoots out to grab his wrist.
He looks over his shoulder at me. “What is it?”
“I, um.” I swallow hard, trying to find the words. Cleaning up is exactly what I need right now, but as soon as the steady pressure of his body covering mine was gone, the vulnerability hit me all at once.
He must read it on my face because he asks, “Do you need me to stay for a bit longer?”
I exhale in relief, then nod.
He slips his wrist out of my grasp in favor of lacing our fingers together. “I’ve got you. I can use the dry towel. It won’t get it all, but it might be better than nothing?”
“There’s, um…” I let out a frustrated sigh and jerk my head toward my nightstand. “Drawer.”
He squeezes my hand before letting go to open the drawer. After a moment of searching, he pulls out the packet of baby wipes I keep for after I have a solo session and holds them up. “Well, aren’t you prepared?” he teases.
I roll my eyes at him and hold my hand out for the pack.
He doesn’t immediately hand them over, instead giving me a questioning look. “Can I clean you up?”
I tilt my head in confusion. I assumed he would hand me the pack so I could clean myself. “You want to…”
“I do,” he says.
I nod, and he scoots closer, pressing a kiss to my cheek before opening the pack and pulling out a wipe.
He takes his time wiping the mess away, littering my chest and shoulders with featherlight kisses as he goes.
It tickles a little, but it’s also so attentive that I think I’m actually swooning.
A majority of our combined release ended up on me, but he didn’t come away mess-free.
So when he’s done with me, he takes another wipe to clean his hand.
Before he can, I take it from him and tilt my head in a silent question.
He nods, and I show him the same gentle care.
When I’m done, he gathers up the used wipes and the towel and puts them on the floor next to the bed to deal with later.
I hold my arm out for him so can cuddle into my side and hopefully act as my human weighted blanket for a while longer, but he doesn’t move.
I prop myself up on my elbow and find him staring into my still-open nightstand drawer.
“Sweetheart?” I prompt. Parker’s careful attention and no longer feeling like a sticky mess makes it a little easier to find words. “What is it?”
“I, um,” he stammers.
I sit up and scoot over to press myself along his back and hook my chin over his shoulder. My eyes follow his gaze, and—oh. Smiling, I press a kiss to his shoulder. “I see you found my dildo.”
“Ye—” His voice cuts out. He clears his throat. “Yeah.”
“I told you I wasn’t new to anal penetration,” I say, unbothered.
“Yeah, but I thought you meant your fingers, not a toy,” he says.
“Toys.” I kiss his shoulder again, then lie back down.
He turns around to look at me so fast, I’m almost concerned he hurt his neck. “Toys?” he asks, emphasizing the s. “As in plural?”
“Yeah, there’s a prostate massager in there somewhere, too.”
His cheeks flush crimson, eyes darken, and a soft whine escapes him. Then, he pounces on me. His body covers mine as his hands bracket my head. I hum in surprise, but it’s muffled when his lips crash onto mine. I don’t have time to reciprocate before he’s pulling away.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
“I take it you’re interested in my toys?” I ask, unable to stop myself from teasing him just a little.
He nods and kisses me again, more tender this time.
“You can use them on me if you want,” I offer.
He groans and gives me another kiss. “Would you…”
He trails off, and I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. So I prompt, “Would I what?”
“Would you use them on me?” he asks, his voice just above a whisper.
I blink at him. “You’d be interested in that?” He nods. “Have you ever experimented with penetration before?”
He shakes his head. “And please stop saying penetration.”
“Penetration,” I say flatly, then laugh when he gives me a little shove.
“But if you like it enough to have two different toys for it, I’d be interested in trying.” He pulls his lip between his teeth for a moment. “If you’d be into that, that is. If you’re only interested in bottoming, that would be fine with me—”
I cup his cheek to calm him, then guide his lips to mine for a gentle kiss. “I’d definitely be into that.”
He smiles, then kisses me one more time before propping himself up. “I’m going to put on underwear, but then do you want to get under the covers?”
“Yes, please.”
We get partially dressed and slide under the covers. The room is quiet for a while as we enjoy being wrapped up in each other. I’m almost falling asleep when Parker nuzzles his nose into my neck.
“Hey,” he murmurs.
I hum questioningly.
“It was good, right?” he asks. “Like, I wasn’t imagining it?”
I wonder how long that question was knocking around in his brain before he finally asked it. “You weren’t imagining it,” I say, punctuating the statement with a kiss to his forehead.
“And this wasn’t… You want this to happen again, right?”
“I do.”
“But not just this?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, not sure I know where he’s going with these questions.
“Like dates and stuff—being boyfriends. Do you want that?”
“Sweetheart, I told you, I’m crazy about you. Yes, I want that. I want all of it,” I say, wanting there to be zero room for him to misinterpret me.
He sighs in relief and lifts onto his elbow to look at me. “So, if I were to ask you to come with me, as my boyfriend, to get drinks for my friend Maggie’s birthday tomorrow, you’d say yes?”
“I’d say yes. Are you asking?”
He nods. “I am. Would you be my boyfriend and let me introduce you to my friends tomorrow as my boyfriend?”
“I would love to be your boyfriend, and will attempt to have a good time with you, as your boyfriend, at a bar full of strangers,” I say.
He laughs. “I’ll take it.”
“Is there anything else you’re wondering about in that wonderful little brain of yours?” I playfully tap his forehead, earning an eye roll.
“Just one other thing.” He hesitates for a moment, then exhales sharply. “I’m a little worried about dating while also being roommates.”
“What are you worried about?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just want to know how it will work.”
I nod, mulling it over. I hadn’t thought about it being a problem, but now that he’s brought it up, I can see the concern. “I don’t know. But we can talk about it—set some sort of boundaries and expectations.”
“Yeah, okay,” he says.
“Do we have to do it now, though?” I ask.
“Oh, no,” he says quickly. “We can talk later. I just wanted to bring it up, at least.”
I smile in relief. “Thank you. I’m not having a hard time getting words out anymore, but I don’t think I’m up for any big discussions right now.”
“Of course.” He kisses my forehead, then rolls onto his back, pulling me with him.
“What—” I start.
“It’s my turn to cuddle you.”
He gathers me close, and I melt into what has become a familiar embrace. Except now, it’s better—because instead of just being my roommate and “platonic” cuddle partner, he’s my boyfriend.