Chapter 14 #3
This time, he didn’t tell me to hurry. Keaton rocked against my fingers, impatient and needy, but I made myself keep the pace slow, stretching him and getting him ready even though all I wanted was to be inside him.
Keaton lifted the pillow, flushed, annoyed, and so turned on he could barely hide it. “Are you done torturing me?”
I slicked my dick and lined myself up. “Almost.”
He hooked one leg around my hip, pulling me closer before I could dawdle for another second.
I guided myself to him, then pushed in, inch by inch, watching his face as he took me.
For a few moments, I stayed still. Then his heel pressed into my ass, and I moved.
Slow at first because we didn’t want to risk the bed banging against the wall.
Even so, he wasn’t built for patience, and I was already too far gone from the taste of him, the sound of ‘baby’ on his lips, and the way his body kept pulling me back in.
The next thrust drew a moan from him, and I covered his mouth with mine. He smiled against me, and I felt it everywhere.
After that, quiet became something we had to fight for.
Every time the floor creaked, we froze and listened.
Every time the house fell still, Keaton tugged me back down and made me move again.
His hands gripped my shoulders, my back, the sheets, anything he could reach, while I fucked him with enough control to keep the bed from giving us away and enough force to make him forget why we had to be careful.
I glided my hand between us and wrapped it around him again.
His eyes opened, dark and unfocused. “Wait.”
I stilled. “Too much?”
“No.” His fingers dug into my back. “I’m trying not to lose it.”
As I stroked him again, his face pressed into my neck, his teeth catching against me to keep the sound in.
I kept my hand on him, working him in time with my hips until his body started tightening around me.
“That’s it,” I whispered into his ear. “Come again, baby. I want to lick every drop off you.”
His fingers dug into my back, and his body went rigid beneath me. I kept my hand moving as he came over my fist, slicking my fingers and the space between us while he shook through it.
I wanted to hear him, but I couldn’t let myself have that when I was already too close. I buried my face against his shoulder and followed him over, driving into him as quietly as I could manage while he held on and took everything I had left.
For a moment, we stayed exactly where we were, his legs still around me and my face against his shoulder while we tried to get our breathing under control. Behind us, the video game menu music kept playing softly.
Eventually, he laughed against my skin.
I lifted my head. “What?”
“I’m twenty-three and just had sex in your parents’ house while Halo Wars played in the background.”
“Worth it?” I grinned.
His eyes moved over my face. “You asking for a review?”
“Maybe.”
“Five stars.” His hand moved down my back. “Would sneak around again.”
I smiled wider, then pulled out carefully and sat back on my heels. He watched me bring my fingers to my mouth, his eyes following as I licked him from my skin. Then I bent over him and dragged my tongue through the mess on his stomach, tasting salt, sweat, and Keaton.
His hand found my hair before I could swallow. “Come here.”
I lifted my head, and he tugged me up until my mouth was over his. He kissed me deeply, his tongue sliding against mine, taking the taste of himself from my mouth before pushing it back.
Once we finally cleaned up, I turned off the game, found our clothes, and climbed under the covers. He curled against me, his head resting on my chest as his fingertips traced the giant tattoo on my chest.
“What time’s your alarm?” he asked.
“Three-thirty.”
He groaned. “Fuck.”
“You don’t have to come to the airport.”
His fingers stopped moving. “Don’t do that.”
“I’m trying to make it easier.”
“I’m going, and you’re not sneaking out before I wake up.”
“I won’t.” I kissed the top of his head. “I promise.”
“Good.”
But sleep didn’t come easy.
For years, I’d thought the day I left for the Air Force was the worst day.
I’d waited in the driveway longer than I needed to, hoping Keaton would come out and give me something before I left, even if it was only proof he still hated me.
He never came out. Dad backed out of the driveway, and, through the window, I saw Keaton standing in the bedroom across from mine, watching me leave without waving or moving from the glass.
Tomorrow, I’d have to walk into an airport with his hand in mine and be the one to let go.
Usually, when I had to face something I didn’t know how to survive, I turned everything into steps.
Wake up, get dressed, load the car, check the bag, board the plane.
That was how I knew how to survive hard things, by breaking them down until they stopped looking like feelings and started looking like orders.
But as I lay there, with Keaton’s breaths warming my skin, and his hand wrapped around my wrist even after he finally drifted off, I had no steps to distract me.
So I stayed awake and held him.
And I let it hurt.