Chapter 43
ISAK
As Lachlan and I hold hands and race home in the sudden downpour, my mind is whirling.
I knew Lachlan had emotional scars—with how his family’s treated him, who wouldn’t?
I didn’t know that he cut himself.
Fuck. My heart hurts for him.
And I feel so fucking guilty for not doing anything for years. I justified it: I figured it was normal for them to yell, and that it wasn’t my business.
I was wrong. Mom and I should’ve done something. We should’ve helped him.
By the time we get to my house, we’re soaked. We stand on the walk, and Lachlan gazes at his house.
“Come inside,” I say. “My mom’s working late.”
“’Kay.”
Dripping, we take our shoes off by the door. I take his hand and head down the hall, wet socks making marks on the hardwood floor, to the bathroom.
“Here.” I help him take off his T-shirt, and he stands in front of me in the harsh light. A quarterback and a god, with a broad, toned torso. And a handmade necklace and bracelet, along with a fancy watch.
When I slip my fingers inside the waistband of his shorts, he inhales sharply but nods.
He’s letting me see him for the first time ever.
I tug down his shorts and underwear together, going to my knees. He has dozens of marks on his inner thighs, both sides, and my heart hurts for him. How much pain he’s been in, and how much he’s kept inside.
I kiss the script inked on his left hip. “What does this say?”
“Ad meliora. Toward better things.”
My chest hurts. I drop another kiss on his tattoo, his skin cool from the rain. Then I stand and strip quickly while he finishes undressing.
I kiss him softly, gently. The lightest of kisses. He groans into my mouth, pressing his body fully against mine.
My fingers trace down his torso and between his legs. “Did you want to die?” I ask him point-blank. “Or is this something else?”
“Something else,” he says slowly. Then he nods in confirmation. “I cut myself because it’s the only way I know to … to feel something other than emotional pain. But I’ve never planned to kill myself. It’s an escape.” He looks at his feet. “I dunno if that makes any sense.”
I reach up and lift his chin with my index finger. “It makes sense,” I assure him. “Some of my friends cut themselves. You’re not the only one.”
“You don’t.”
I shake my head. “Just because I dress how I do doesn’t mean that I’m all bleakness and harsh winters inside.”
Lach chuckles. “No, you’re like a graham cracker or something. Sweet and a little healthy. It’s funny that we’re opposites.”
He’s right. You’d look at him and think that he’s the happy one, but he’s not. He has the secrets and the darkness. I’m the one you’d think would be writing depressing poetry, and yet no.
“It’s almost like … looks can be deceiving,” I say. I turn on the shower and wait for it to warm up.
Lachlan rolls his eyes. “Ha ha. I know. But it’s weird that in our case it’s so true.” His shoulders stiffen. “But it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. And it’s okay not to be fine.” I want to ask him so many things. How long has this been going on? What triggers it? I finally settle on “But we’re going to get you some help, right?”
Lachlan tilts his head from side to side but eventually nods.
“Thanks, babe,” I whisper. “That’s fucking brave of you. Absolutely courageous.”
“More courageous than Mark Watney in The Martian?”
I grin. “Maybe.”
We step into the water, and I scrub him up with soap.
The warmth is welcome, but basically, this is an excuse to be close to one another.
We kiss, but he’s wrung out and tearstained, so I don’t push him.
I just show him that I adore every part of his body.
I treat it gently, the way he deserves to be treated.
When I decide we’re clean enough, I turn off the water and hand him a fresh towel. I wrap a towel around my waist and throw our wet clothes, along with some other laundry, in the wash.
“If you need to put something on, you can borrow my clothes,” I tell him.
He swallows. “Does that mean I should start wearing long skirts and Docs?”
I blink for a moment, imagining him in them. “If you ever want to wear any of my clothes, be my guest.”
Lachlan nods. “Maybe I will.”
“Come with me.”
He follows me into my room, and I make sure the curtains are closed and the door is locked but keep the lights on.
Then I push him to the bed.
Lachlan looks up at me, his wet blond hair spread out on my pillow. His jock body taking over much of my queen-size mattress.
“Fuck, look at you,” I say in wonder.
His cheeks go red. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re absolutely beautiful.” I sit at the foot of the bed and place my hands on his ankles, staring up at his glorious nakedness. Golden skin. Defined torso. Rounded biceps and muscular thighs. He’s hard. We’ve both been hard since the shower. My eyes catch on the rows of scars.
I run my nose up his shin, kissing as I go. He shudders under me, and I try to go slower, even slower, as I reach his inner thighs.
“You are beautiful everywhere,” I say, dropping a kiss on each mark. “Every. Where.”
“Don’t make me cry. I already cried enough.”
“It’s okay to cry, but I’ll do my best to avoid it. Since you asked.”
“Okay.”
I keep kissing the healed and not-so-healed cuts, in a weird way almost celebrating them. Because they’re battle scars of his mental health. He survived. He’s still here. He can heal.
Then I lick a long stripe up to his balls.
He groans. “Damn. Your mouth, Isak. I want it.”
“Do you?”
“Most definitely.”
“That’s not too much for you tonight? Because we don’t have to do anything. We can get dressed and hold each other.”
Lachlan shakes his head. “I need you, baby. I need your mouth, your cock, your body. You. I need you.”
Well. I’m not going to object to that. “Can I play with you, then? Do you trust me?”
“Yes to both,” he says immediately.
“Can I rim you?” I ask. “I want to show you how good it feels and how every part of you is worth worshipping.”
“Oh, fuck,” he murmurs. “Yeah, if you want.”
I grin wickedly. “Turn over.”
He obeys me, and now I’m treated to the view of my boyfriend lying sprawled on my bed, his athletic ass … right there.
I run a finger up his inner thigh again, trying to honor his scars and cuts. Then I trail it between his cheeks, and he clenches involuntarily.
“Shh,” I murmur. “If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.”
“I think I’ll like it,” he mutters.
I grin as I push his legs wider apart and start licking up from his balls. He’s still damp from the shower, and he smells like soap.
When I get to his hole, I lick more carefully, and he lets out a loud moan. “Oh, holy fuck, Isak.”
“You good, babe?”
“Yeah.”
Then I feast. I lick and suck, trying to massage every one of his nerve endings. He’s trusting me, letting me see him at his most vulnerable. I’m going to make him feel safe and cared for. That’s my job.
When I stop to catch my breath, I ask, “Would you ever want me to fuck you? Or do you want to fuck me?”
He nods. “Yes, both, either. I’ve never done it—anal—but I want to try.”
“We can work up to it.” I pat his ass. “Flip over.”
As he does, I get up, wipe my face off with a shirt from the hamper, and grab the lube. “Can I play with your ass while I blow you?”
“Fuck. Okay. Yes.”
I love hearing him sound so eager, so open. Squirting some lube into my hand, I return to the bed. Lachlan’s dick is ruddy and hard, and it seems like he’s going to explode.
“This is going to be cold at first,” I warn. “But then it’s awesome.”
“Okay,” he says again. He’s a little wary, but I don’t blame him.
I reach under him and find his hole, breaching him with a lubed finger. He hisses, and I watch his face. “Good?”
“Yeah,” he says, his pupils blown. “Weird but good.”
I keep my finger inside him, and I take the head of his cock into my mouth.
“Oh, damn,” he whispers. “I fucking love this.” I keep going, massaging his prostate and sucking on his cock until he’s really, really close.
“Come here. I need to kiss you,” he orders, and I slide up his body. He kisses me hard, then grabs both of our cocks and starts jacking us together, making me writhe against him.
“Oh, fuuuuuck,” I whimper. “I needed that. Frotting for the win.”
“Yeah, baby. I’m going to make sure to give you what you need. You give me so much, but what do you want?”
“I’d love to get you inside me,” I admit.
“We could …”
My heart was already pounding, but it leaps at the prospect of him fucking me.
“But if I tried right now, I’d blow in one pump,” he whimpers.
I try not to look too disappointed. “Another time.”
“Or …”
I perk up.
“Get me off; then I’ll be able to last longer.”
I’m all in. “Then come, baby.”
With a few more pumps against me, he releases, shooting over my chest and abs. I grin and kiss him. Then I slide down and suck on his cock, tasting his salty, bitter come.
“Oh, fuck,” Lachlan says. It doesn’t take me long to get him hard again.
“Seems like you’re ready. Now I need to prep,” I say. “I like the burn, but I need some … assistance.”
“Can I do it?”
“Yeah. Just get me good and lubed, and open me up.” I turn away from him. It’s a vulnerable feeling, showing him my ass, and I’m humbled at how willing he was to let me do this to him.
Lachlan comes up behind me, his hard cock brushing my thigh, his hands gentle. He kisses the space between my shoulder blades, my monster tattoo, down my spine to the small of my back. His hands travel all over me, but he ends up between my legs, his lubed fingers probing my entrance.
Now it’s my turn to moan. The lube is cold at first but warms quickly, and I love the feeling when he slides a finger into me. Then a second one. After a little while, I’m writhing and ready and open, although I know it will still sting.
“I need to be inside you,” he grits out. “You’re too hot.”
“Then go for it,” I say. “Do you want a condom?”
“I can wear one if you want me to.”
“I’m fine going without. I haven’t been with anyone since my last checkup—before we got together.”
“Me neither,” he whispers.
“Then fuck me raw, Lach.”
Lachlan makes a choked sound. “Fuck. Baby, hearing you say that nearly set me off.”
I kiss him. “Is that so?”
I get on all fours, arching my back and sticking out my ass.
Lach makes another noise of pleasure and positions himself behind me. His hands are gentle on my hips, and he leans down to press more kisses to my upper back.
He starts working his hard dick into me as I bear down on him. It’s tough at first. My body rejects him. But then he makes headway, and soon, he’s fully inside me.
It stings. It burns. But oh, damn, do I love this. I’ve only done it a few times, but it’s amazing.
“Stay … stay put,” I grunt. “Let me get used to you.”
“You’re so fucking hot and tight. Damn, Isak, baby,” Lachlan moans.
I can feel all his muscles tensing as he holds himself still behind me. Finally, I nod. “Now, Lach. Please.”
His first thrust is tentative, but he gains confidence when I respond with a groan of pleasure. He fucks me slow and deep, and I can feel his care in every movement.
Lachlan is a gentle, cautious lover, and damn, I love that.
But I want him to lose control.
“Babe, I’m good,” I say. “Pound me.”
“Damn,” he whispers. “You sure?”
“Yeah, Lach. Please.” My voice is strained. I’m overwhelmed with need, with desire, and with affection for this sweet, generous, wounded boy who’s giving himself to me.
“Okay.” And now he puts that athletic body to work. He grips my hips tighter and tighter, his rhythm harsher, his body slapping against mine.
I’m in heaven.
“Oh, there,” I gasp as Lachlan hits the right spot inside me. He nods and does it over and over again until I’m dying. He pulls me up against him and fondles my chest, pinching my nipples as he fucks me.
I shuttle my hand over my own cock as Lachlan surges into me, and fuck, this is the best. This is the sex of my dreams—the quarterback pounding me. This is what I’ve wanted ever since I knew it was a thing.
Lachlan’s babbling at me, telling me how gorgeous I am, how it feels fucking amazing, how he wants to keep doing this forever.
I pass the point of no return, and my body seizes up as I come all over my hand and my sheets. Lach lasts a few more pumps, and then he’s stiffening and fucking me hard through an O that sounds as big as mine.
He holds me to him, sucking on my neck, playing with my nipples, continuing to thrust gently until he slips out.
I turn around, and we’re kissing hard.
Fuck, I think I’m in love.
As we keep kissing, I start to shake.
“Isak, baby, what’s wrong?” Lachlan asks, giving me a sleepy smile and running his hands down my arms.
“It happens … when I do that … for the first time with someone.” I sniffle. “Thought I’d be past it.”
“Shh,” he says, shifting us so his body is half blanketing mine. He drops kisses all over my face. “It’s okay. Let yourself feel whatever you need to feel.”
“Who cries when they’ve just had sex with the man of their dreams?”
“It’s okay. Come here.” He draws me closer so I’m fully under him.
Lachlan isn’t treating me as if I’m doing anything weird. He’s acting like it’s okay to be me, which is even more dangerous.
A tear slides down my cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb. Then he kisses me gently. “Was it too much?”
I shake my head. “Sex isn’t too much. Sex with you is way too much—in the best way. I can’t believe I’m being such a baby about it.”
“Stop. You’re not a baby. Well, you’re my baby, but that’s different.”
And I know, I know that if I haven’t fallen in love with him already, I’m going to, soon. Because this is too much. He’s too kind. Too gentle. Too sweet. It’s almost more than I can handle.
Be brave.