Chapter 18
Thayer
Ash was so pretty.
Most men were hot or good-looking, but Ash was pretty. Ash could be hot and had been a few times, but he was baseline pretty.
He had a soft face, warm skin that was lit up by a flushed red, even while he slept. Even in disarray, his hair was golden and perfect, soft beneath my hand. His normally harsh and rigid muscles were almost soft while he slept–sweet and just for looks now.
Ash just felt good against me…and around me.
He trusted me.
This wasn’t just sex–he had to feel that, too.
It was so much deeper than just a physical thing we did–he chose me and chose this. He loved it–he was at the peak of pleasure he'd probably ever known, and all he knew to do was cling to me.
Because he knew, no matter what, I had him.
He was mine to care for.
And I was so close to keeping him.
Part of me buckled internally at his hesitation about me not switching, almost like that could be a deal breaker for him. I was worried, of course, but honestly, the way he cried from just my finger in him the night before…
I had it on good authority that he'd be a very happy bottom for me.
Still, I questioned him.
I kept questioning him every time something felt too good to be true, because surely it was. It was too good to be true that Ash could even be into this, and then into me, and then perfectly match needs, and then I perfectly matched his, and now this?
I was biting my tongue on three words I’d never said to any other man…but I wanted to say them to Ash.
The twenty-one-year-old kid with an attitude…snoring on my chest.
I wanted him to know that, no matter how fucked up this all was, I would follow him to the end of the earth already. I was wrapped around that pretty finger resting on my chest right now–I was all his.
Mind, body–all of it.
But he deserved more than whispered words after sex.
Ash was all I thought about now. I should have pulled him tonight, but instead, I let him play and only left him alone after the game to pick up washcloths that would be less rough on his skin.
I should have sent in Tommy when I knew he wasn't fully there–I should have done my job, but we had a deal.
Even in the midst of all this craziness, I was upholding that promise.
Ash started to stir, grumbling something into my chest that didn’t make any sense, but thanking me clearly when I handed him water. I sat up with him, making sure he drank it slowly, but that he drank at least half of it before letting him lie back down.
He was so…soft again.
Nothing even close to the irritated, overstimulated ball of rage he was when he got here–I did that.
I fixed that.
My care for him and my attention to the Ash details made him a happy, soft ball of fluff at my side, snuggling into my chest with tired, fractured grumbles of how good he felt now.
I did that.
Because he trusted me.
He chose me.
And I wasn't going to let him regret that–I’d take care of him.