Chapter 39
LACHLAN
I’m on his doorstep in sweatpants and a T-shirt three minutes later.
Isak opens the door and lets me inside. “We should go to this sandwich place soon,” he says excitedly, shaking his phone. “It’s not new, but I just learned about it. They’ve been around for forty years. It’s in a strip mall. I bet it’s amazing.”
I try to smile, but my face isn’t working right.
He studies me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
He puts a hand on his hip. “Bull. What is it?”
“Guess I’m not doing that well tonight.”
To my surprise, he relaxes and even lights up a bit. “I am so grateful you told me that. It’s totally okay if you don’t feel good. What would make you feel better?”
“That’s the problem: I have no idea. I just want to escape my life.”
Isak’s expression turns pained. “Escape, like, what? Do we need to get you professional help?”
I shake my head. “Not like that. I’m okay. My family … You know.”
“Okay.” He beckons me closer, his arms wide. “Come here.”
I collapse into him and bury my face in his neck.
His hand shoots up to my head, and he starts stroking my hair.
He doesn’t say anything or do anything else.
He simply takes my weight. Takes my breathing.
Takes my nose against his skin as I smell his soap.
He runs his short, blunt nails through my hair and scratches my scalp, and I don’t think anything has ever felt better.
A hug. I’m hugging Isak for real—our first big hug—and I want to keep doing it for the rest of my life.
A sob threatens to surge from my throat, but I push it down.
“Come to my room,” he whispers. I follow him down the hall, my body relaxing with every step.
He pushes me onto his bed and then sprawls on top of me. He kisses me gently, and it’s my turn to play with his curls. His hair makes me happy. Isak makes me happy.
I wish I could live forever here on his bed, cuddling—or more—and shut away the world outside. The world with my family yelling in it.
With Isak blanketing me, everything inside me settles right back into place. Just touching him anywhere makes me feel better. I snake my hand down his back, dipping under his shirt. Reaching down to cup his ass.
If only I could be as strong without him as I am with him.
He rucks up my shirt and kisses my bare torso, sucks my nipples.
I moan into him, loving his lips on my skin.
We’ve never done this before—make out in a big, comfy bed—and it feels so good.
I take my shirt off, and he reaches behind his neck and pulls his off, too, and we’re chest to chest, kissing.
My dick is hard, and so is his. We’re both in loose pants—my sweats and his drawstring pajama pants—and we start grinding on each other, him still on top of me.
“I love it when you suck on me,” I tell him.
Isak raises an eyebrow.
“Well, yes.” I snort. “Obviously. But I meant, y’know, not just that. Everywhere.”
“Oh?” He climbs up toward my neck and sucks gently. “Like this?”
“Yeah. God, yes.”
“And this?” He sucks on my earlobe.
I arch into him. “Yes.”
“Can I blow you?” he whispers.
Sex in a bed for the first time since senior retreat? Please. I nod. Then I stiffen, remembering I need to hide my scars. “Can we turn out the light?”
He frowns. “I guess. Sure.” He reaches over and turns it off.
The only light now is coming from the moon shining through the window. Excellent.
I lie back, my head on his pillow, and Isak looks down at me through wild tangles of hair, his eyes intense. He reaches for my pants and shoves them down as he scooches down my body.
I stifle a moan. “You have no idea how it feels to look at you like this,” I whisper, running a hand through his curls.
He straddles my lower legs and smiles against my thigh. “Oh?”
“You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” My hard cock is straining against my underwear. He buries his nose in the fabric of my boxer briefs.
“Tease,” I whisper.
“Your tease.”
I put a hand under his chin and tilt his face up. “You are my tease.”
“Always.” It sounds like a promise. I wish it were a promise.
Could it be a promise?
Could I promise my heart to him?
Isak pulls my underwear down to mid-thigh in one go, and my cock springs up hard and proud. He smiles wickedly. Then he sticks out his tongue and licks my entire length.
Okay, yeah. I’m going to expire. RIP, me. The end. Time of death, now. How long has it been since he did this?
“I fucking love your mouth,” I whisper.
And the slope of your nose and the freckles on your face. Your kind eyes and the way your mouth tilts upward. How you pick up snails to save them and share sandwiches with me.
How you’ve always been there. How I feel safe with you.
“Hmm,” he hums and sucks me down.
I gasp. It’s like I’m being cradled in something that is designed for no other purpose than to give me pleasure.
That hits all the right buttons and makes me feel incredible.
The suction and pressure and heat and glide all work together so I want to rut into him, but I let him control the speed this time. I don’t need to take over.
He starts sucking on me for real, bobbing his head. “I—I am going to come really fast if you keep that up,” I gasp.
He shrugs.
“I feel like I should argue some more.”
Another shrug.
“Okay, then. If you’re sure.”
A brief nod, and he keeps going.
And so I surrender to the pleasure. To him.
To the fact that while it might seem like he’s worshipping me, in reality this is me worshipping him.
Because he’s like a god when he’s doing this.
He’s so strong and confident and brave, and powerful enough to surrender himself to me.
He could command me to do anything, and I would, because he’s making me beg. “Please, please, please, make me come.”
That familiar feeling gathers, lifting me higher, increasing the tension and need, telling me that I’m almost there. And I shatter, pulsating in his mouth with waves of pleasure. Like I’m drowning and floating at the same time.
This man makes me feel good in every way—inside, outside. Emotionally, physically. He’s interesting and funny and talented. And so beautiful he’s hard to look at.
I’ve never felt more myself than when I’m with him, and I’ve never wanted to support anyone the way I want to be able to support him—at school and beyond. I want him in my life forever.
And, holy shit, am I in love with Isak?
No.
But … kinda yeah. At least, I definitely could be headed there.
I finish shooting my load, and he keeps suckling on my oversensitive cock. I laugh and gently push him off. Then I tackle him, kissing him greedily and tasting myself. “That was amazing,” I say. “Let me return the favor.”
Isak doesn’t argue. He just lies back. I adjust my clothes enough to pull them up and then prepare to blow him.
I shake out my hands and bite at my lips.
I’m under no illusions that my one blow job has made me a pro, and I really want this to be good for him.
I want him to feel the way he makes me feel.
Fuck it. I open my mouth and start sucking on him. I taste his precome, which is salty and bitter and somehow weirdly sweet at the same time.
“Fuck, Lachlan, babe, that feels so fucking good, oh my god,” he groans, and that spurs me on.
I do my best to get into a rhythm. After a while, my jaw hurts, and I worry I’m going to gag. I can’t go too far down his cock, but I use my hand to help jack him.
He tips over the edge fast, with his back arched and a loud moan, hot waves spilling into my mouth. I swallow the come fast, before I really taste it. But I like it.
Isak starfishes his arms and legs on the mattress. “Wow,” he breathes. “You’re so good at that.”
“I learned from the best,” I tease, moving up so I can kiss him. “Which, to be clear, is you.”
We lie nose to nose, clothes disheveled, basking in the afterglow.
Why can’t it always be like this?
A small voice inside me says “Enjoy these moments, because they don’t last. No matter how much you wish they would.”
He trails a finger along my cheek, down my jaw, and I sigh.
I love that more than I ever could have imagined.
“I think you need this after-time, which we never had before.” He pauses.
“I think you want the sex, but you need … touch. Affection. You’re strong, and you can rely on yourself.
But I also think you’re strong enough to be able to open yourself to someone else. Like, maybe, me. I hope.”
I stare. How does Isak get me so well? It’s unnerving. Especially since he’s been watching me from the outside. Although I suppose everyone is looking at everyone else from the outside. Thing is, he’s spot on.
My initial instinct is not to admit anything. But what has not admitting shit got me? Nothing but darkness and emptiness inside, behind the facade.
Isak fills me up with something good, and he reminds me that I can fill myself up. It’s the headiest feeling in the world.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I think you’re right.”
He snuggles into me and starts toying with my friendship bracelet.
I stay until he falls asleep, and then I sneak out his window and return to my own room.
At least my house is quiet now. But I wish I could spend the night in Isak’s arms.