Chapter 7
Noah
We lay on the bed, in an awkward embrace for what seemed like an eternity of quiet comfort. Until it no longer was, and I felt embarrassingly lost for words. His head still against my chest, and my hands once again playing with his hair.
“Never cut this,” I whispered. “It’s the most beautiful thing ever.”
“It covers the bald bits at the front. I’ll have to cut it eventually; I’m not going to be that pathetic bloke with a bad comb-over.”
“You’d be perfect, even if you were bald.”
“That’s a total contradiction.” He smiled. I could feel his facial movements against my chest.
Then we were silent again. Just his fingers tapping over my chest. The slow movement of his breathing. The fan whirring in slow circles above our heads.
I was honestly still a little bit in shock because this had not been my plan, and how I’d gone from the stern decision in my head to carry him back to where he’d come from to… I was now lying here hoping he’d never leave. That I could just carry on this charade forever.
“You said,” he started, then he moved. I didn’t like it. Didn’t want him to. But he leant up and adjusted himself until he had his chin on my chest and was looking straight at me. “You said you were bad at sex. Where the hell did you get that from?”
“I’m usually too shy to make a move. I never really do. I don’t know, it’s, like, a confidence thing. I’m not…like you. I don’t walk around naked and swing my dick in people’s faces.”
“I don’t swing my cock in people’s faces.” He pouted, that glitter back in the corner of his eye.
“You did. All morning.”
“Bah.” He grinned. “And then you just got up and stripped and stuck that big, fat finger of yours up my arse.”
“Oh, we’re debriefing, I see? Someone stuck that arse in my face, and I just did the polite thing.”
This was me being stupid. Also? Him being absolutely sweet.
“I loved it. Loved how you took charge and made me feel good. It’s a skill. You’re really good at topping. Put me right to shame. I’m usually a bit more reserved with using my mouth. Lube is good. Fingers. But I have small hands, and everyone has different likes and dislikes.”
“Yep. I like…everything. You have a spectacular arse.”
“Thank you.” That smile on him. Bigger than the sun. “So, you ever bottom?”
“I…I don’t have sex much,” I admitted. Might as well. I was just being honest. “Maybe once…in a blue moon. When I get desperate, and sometimes I get desperate, then not desperate enough not to chicken out.”
“Relatable,” he said. Surprising. He didn’t seem like the chickening-out kind of guy. I said that out loud as well.
“I’m shy too, especially around hot guys,” he obviously lied. There was nothing shy about him. Nothing at all. “And then I lose my nerve. I’m more of a relationship kind of guy, when sex becomes a comfort.”
“I like that.” That I admitted that surprised me, but it made sense. I reckon I was a sex for comfort person. The idea of that appealed. “You were the one who suggested this sordid affair, so…” Here I went. Fucking this up. “What happens now?”
“Now?” He tapped a finger on my nose. “We both need a shower. I mean, I would go straight in for round two…but.” His nose scrunched up, and funnily enough, I got exactly what he meant.
“Dr Fairweather agrees. A bit of a cleanup. Less chance of nasty bacterial infections.”
“So unsexy.” He laughed. “No infections, please. It’s bad enough my foot is stinging like hell. That fan is good, but every time the air hits the middle of my sole I feel like my leg is on fire.”
“Yes, sunburn will do that. Need me to carry you to the bathroom?”
“Only if you’re joining me.”
Such a flirt. And no, I wouldn’t be…but the thought of?
Okay. I was now crawling out of bed, standing myself up—stark naked, I might add—and tugging sharply at his legs, letting his arse drag the sheets along.
The bed was a mess, even he was noticing, trying to ensure that at least the bottom sheet stayed on the mattress. It didn’t. I didn’t think I cared.
“We’re in a hotel. Surely they can fix the bed?” he huffed out as I yanked him closer. Got him stood up on the floor, on one leg.
“You want some poor maid to come gather up these cummy sheets?” Why I was using such language was beyond me, and why I was not using the correct manual handling techniques and how I was getting him up in my arms?
He suddenly was. Legs clamped around my waist, and his arms around my neck.
A lazy kiss on his mouth. “Let’s get you clean. ”
The smile on his face was silly. The scent of him? Sweat and sex. Me. And him.
That body pressed hard against my chest as I got the shower running, perhaps a little too cool, but the room was warm and he was…
Still in my arms. I lowered him down onto his good foot, my hands combing water through his hair, droplets running down his face.
He was still smiling as I pumped some shampoo out of the dispenser on the wall.
He probably used fancy designer stuff to get his curls to this kind of perfection, but he didn’t even flinch as I slowly massaged suds into his scalp.
His foot leant against the wall, out of the spray.
All that skin, so easily within my reach.
My hands on his shoulders, and he still had his eyes closed, letting me just touch him, under the pretence of getting him clean. Soapy water over his chest. Down his stomach. My face getting sprayed as I fondled his arse. Up his back. A soft kiss on his shoulder.
I could taste soap on my lips, but I didn’t care. Up and up, under his armpits. More soap. More water as he held his arms over his head, and just let me touch all the little parts of him I desired.
“I’m spoilt,” he said quietly.
“You’re beautiful,” I replied, as he smoothed down his face with his hands, then leant back to rinse out his hair. Water everywhere. My lips suddenly on his. Just softly kissing him clean.
More soap, and I lathered myself down.
“Nope.” He swatted my hands off my stomach. “My job.”
Apparently so, as he made swift work of my chest. Carefully circling my nipples as my hard-on became more difficult to ignore. His gorgeous cock was right there between us, not quite hard, but angling nicely.
He was enjoying himself, and that small fact was the cause of the ridiculous grin on my face.
“What am I going to do with you?” I asked myself out loud.
The things he was making me do. Like, this?
This was insane and not like me at all. But he made me feel…
I don’t know. Wild? Free? Like this really was me, and I had the most gorgeous man in the world; I wasn’t exaggerating here because the more I looked at him? The more attractive he became.
Magic. Bewitching. I was pretty sure he was the one drugging me.
“Your arse is insane,” he mused, both hands kneading my behind.
Nice. Arousing. My cheeks being drenched in water as he flipped me around, made me catch my weight against the tiles as his hands worked over my back.
“Not sure if I can hold my foot up much longer, but I really want to…”
Okay. He did. Sank to his knees right there and bit down on my arse. Just like a play bite, but fuck if it didn’t turn me on. Then he was parting my cheeks with his fingers, and…and…the man? He was…licking my arse.
I’d had it done to me once in my youth, but this? Having him, in the shower? Like this?
Okay. I was now turned on, and his nimble little tongue wasn’t helping, and I would… Fuck.
“Riley.”
“Fairweather,” came out of his mouth. Like this was funny. Well. It was.
“You,” I weirdly barked out as his tongue did things to me. Prodded. Pushed against my hole.
I liked it. Wanted it. “Please.”
Apparently things I said to strangers in my shower.
He wasn’t a stranger, and this wasn’t my shower.
I’d only met him forty-eight hours ago, and now here I was on day two of my holiday and Fox Riley, headmaster of somewhere fuck-knew-where, was rimming my arse, and I was bending my knees to give him better access, flexing my back to get my arse flush into his face.
Like a… Like I knew…what I was doing here.
I was having sex. For the second time in…forever.
“Relax,” he said, perhaps a little louder than necessary, but I had my cheek against the tiles, and the water was loud and my breathing strained. Also, I didn’t dare open my eyes. It was easier to just let all this happen. Pretend I wasn’t involved at all.
But I was, and my cock strained as he pushed a finger inside of me.
Not even lube, nothing, just his skin against my insides.
Perhaps he’d covered himself in spit, what did I know, but I didn’t mind the burn.
The stretch. The intrusion. My hand was now giving my cock what it needed, as his finger moved inside of me.
“You rinsed down?” he asked, like his words made sense. They didn’t. Not in my befuddled brain.
“Wanna put you on the bed. Need lube. Fuck, your arse is incredible.”
Apparently I knew how to move. How to lift him up into my arms and kiss his face, and all the water between us.
He flicked the tap off, and I hoisted him up.
Like this was how we moved. How we functioned.
How life would be from now on, where his thighs were in my hands, his cock against my stomach, where my taste was on his lips.
It was a minor miracle that I didn’t slip on the tiles or, God forbid, drop him on my way to the messed-up bed; instead, he let himself down and turned me around, giving me a shove onto the bare mattress.
Me. On all fours. Arse in the air. The fan making my skin prickle as he fiddled around with lube and found a strip of condoms on the floor.
I had no idea how I was holding it together, here on the bed like this. This wasn’t me. This?
His knees behind me, thighs against mine.
The sounds of movements I could have described in detail.
The rolling of the condom. The gentle slap of latex against skin.
The flick of a cap. And here was his hand, smearing smoothness over my skin.
A crooked finger inside of me. And another slick of lube. More movement.
“I’m going to fuck you now.” His voice was smooth as velvet. Thick. I couldn’t even explain what it did to me, hearing the words alongside his finger gliding slowly inside of me. “Do you think you can take it? I’m not as good at prepping as you are.”
“All good.” The confidence in my voice was as surprising as the moan that followed.
Like I couldn’t bear it, my spine shuddering, my hips feeling weak and my knees threatening to give way.
Like I would just fall over. Take him and the bed with me, and we would all end up somewhere in the ocean beneath us.
I had no idea what was going on, so completely engulfed in everything this was. Him. Me. The bloody universe simply existing.
And then he was suddenly right there, the tip of his cock against my hole and the push was everything, and the universe definitely existed and was swirling all around me.
This. This was what sex was. Apparently. What?
“Oh shit, Noah, you’re bloody amazing. You’re just swallowing me up. I don’t even need to push.”
No shit, Fox Riley, because you were bloody good at the prepping thing too, and I was just gently leaning into him and indeed, we were joining, and it was amazing and I loved everything that this was.
I should bottom more. I should be braver. Try getting out more, and I hated that my mother, again, had been right, and I loved that it was him. That he was just someone who…
“Why do you just get me?” I panted out as he bottomed out, his groin right in my arse, and the feeling was amazing. I was so full and so stretched and so blissfully out of it, and I thought I was drooling on the bare mattress below me and we definitely needed the bed fixed.
“Because you’re amazing,” he said back there, giving me a little shove with his hips. And another. Like he was trying to go deeper when he was already fully inside of me.
“I love this. I love having…this.” My words made no sense, but I said them anyway. I wanted to turn around and watch him. See his face. Check that he was as into this as I was, but then his grip on my hips was telling enough, the sharpness of his fingernails digging deep into my skin.
“Please fuck me,” I pleaded. “Please.”
“You’re fucking amazing.”
“Want,” came rolling off my tongue, “you.”
“You’ve got me, baby. All of me. So good. Oh fuck, Noah. Your arse is insane.”
I wanted to dispute that silly comment. I wanted to just rut against him, not patiently lounge around here hoping he would make good on his promise. I needed it. All of it. Him. The universe. His cock. His whispers and I wanted…
“Fuck!”
I took it all back. His length glided out of me, and then he slammed back in before I could catch my breath.
And again. Again. More as I let my mouth run.
Words and sounds and the universe once again crashing down all around us.
Because I never behaved like this. Never did this. Never once let go. Not like this.
This was him, and he made me like this. Made me lose everything I’d so carefully constructed. The walls of safety. The boundaries I’d erected. The person I’d been. Gone.
I blamed him. Because after this?
Nothing would ever be the same.