Chapter Nineteen #2
Every sound he makes, each time his hand tightens in my hair, my dick gets harder.
“You’re so beautiful,” he tells me. “I can’t believe I can have you this way. That you want me.”
“I’ll always want you.” The promise is easy to make. It’s the kind of man I am. I don’t connect easily with people, but when I do, for whatever reason, that’s it for me.
I’m not saying I love him, not saying that what we share is the same as what I had before, but it’s a part of me, another pleasure I don’t deserve, but will treasure forever. And when he’s gone, when I kill him, I’ll ache with the pain of that for the rest of my life.
This time, when I take him back into my mouth, I go slower, looking at him. Abbott’s resting on his elbows, with an unreadable expression on his face. It’s more than pleasure, and damned if it doesn’t hurt to see.
I don’t let myself turn away from him though, as the picture begins to form, and I see that he’s watching the man who he wants to pleasure him less than twenty-four hours before I’m supposed to take his life.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
He puts a hand on my face, stopping me. I pull off him instantly, not willing to touch him if that’s what he wants, if he’s suddenly realized it’s too much.
“I don’t want to come this way,” he finally says. “I want to come with you inside of me. Fuck me, Rian. Fuck me until we both forget.”
I tremble at the conviction in his words, the need in them which matches a need of my own.
I pull off him and stand, my erection tenting the sleep pants.
I pull those and my underwear off, not taking my eyes off him.
“I don’t have a condom,” I say. “I’m negative for everything.
I don’t do this often, and when I do, I’m always safe.
I’m tested regularly, and I haven’t been with anyone without a condom since my wife. ”
Should it feel stranger than it does to talk about Moira here?
I’ve never talked about her with anyone else I’ve been with.
Hell, I struggle to talk about her with my family…
with my son, but strangely, it’s different with Abbott—like everything else, all of these things I’m not supposed to do or want to do, I do them or want them with him.
What is this connection between us? How the fuck can I lose it?
“If I’m going to die tomorrow, does it really matter even if you weren’t?” Abbott asks, his words like a shot to the heart, lodging there and then blowing it apart. “Conan brought condoms…and lube. They were in the bag, and I hid them in the nightstand on my side.”
Goddamn Conan. He knew it. From how I’ve acted from the start, he knew I would end up here.
“But for the record, I’m negative too.”
“Why are you doing this? Why are you giving me this?” I can’t help but ask.
“I don’t know…but I feel it. You talked about the way your nape tingled, and you only got that with her…I didn’t experience the same thing, but I feel you, Rian. In ways I shouldn’t. From the start, something inside of me has been saying this is right.”
We both feel it. How can I do this? How can I hurt him?
I lie down beside him, both of us on our sides, my hand against his cheek. “I want it to be different.”
We both lean in, meeting in the middle to share another kiss. There’s always a power behind Abbott’s kisses that is unfamiliar but intoxicating to me. If things were different, I think I could live off kissing him.
There’s something satisfying in it, something that feeds a part of me that I’m not sure was hungry before tasting his mouth, but now wants to be fed all the time.
I roll him to his back, then kneel over him, bottle of lube in hand.
“Have you ever done this before?” he asks.
“Yes. Not with a man, obviously, but I’ve done it. I’ll get you opened up for my cock.”
A noticeable shudder runs through him, one I both see and feel.
“You like it when I talk to you like that, don’t you?
Do you want to hear how I’m going to stretch you wide?
That I’m going to fill you with as many fingers as I can before I give you my cock?
And when I come, it’s going to be deep inside of you.
I’ve marked your pretty skin, made you smell like me from the outside.
Now I’m going to fill you up, give you all my cum so there’s no question about how much I want you. ”
It’s wild to me that he can feel unwanted, that he hasn’t found someone who sees how incredible he is. Someone a lot better than me.
“Fuck yes. Do it. I want you all over me, in me, everywhere I can have you.”
Lust pumps through my body, every word from him, every look from him, injecting it into my veins.
“Turn over. I want to see your ass.”
I sit back on my heels while Abbott does exactly that, settling on his hands and knees, with his ass my way.
I reach out and cup his firm, round cheeks, spread them wide, and look at the hole between them. It’s so fucking small, tight and pink, clenching and unclenching, as he waits for me to give him what we both want.
“Jesus, look at you. Do you always take it?” I ask, tracing the puckered rim. He’s got a little bit of red hair in his crack, and I had no idea that would be as sexy as it is.
“Yes. Most of the time, at least. I love being fucked. It makes me feel…”
His words trail off like he’s not sure how to finish them, or hell, maybe he doesn’t want to.
Maybe it’s hard for him to admit, but if he feels any shame, he shouldn’t.
“It makes you feel wanted…needed, like you’re important.
” Because he doesn’t. Somehow, he’s spent his whole life doing the right thing, being a good person, but never feeling wanted or loved.
While I can’t give him love, I sure as hell can give him this, and it will be one of the most important things I’ll ever do.
One I’ll always treasure.
“Yes. Christ yes. How do you know that?”
“Because I know you.” Somehow, I do. A part of me knew him from the second I walked past him in that hallway.
“Fuck me, Rian. Let me feel you.”
“My fucking pleasure.” I slick my fingers with lube, then rub circles on his rim again. When it puckers some, I push my finger in and nearly lose my mind. His body is so tight—tight and hot and fucking perfect, even just clamped around my finger.
I push it in and out of him before adding a second, finger-fucking his ass, while my other hand slides under his body to grip his cock.
I stroke him, work him open, Abbott pushing back against me like it’s not enough, and he’d do anything to get more.
“Curve your finger. You should feel a smooth, round bump. That’s my prostate. Rub that.”
I do as he says, moving my finger until I find something, and then Abbott’s whole body basically twitches.
I smile.
“Yes. There. Play with that too.”