8. Chapter 8 #2
“No, because I liked the way— what you did the other night was perfect. I don’t want you, or anyone, to treat me like a kid.
I don’t want soft. You know me. I’m not soft, Roman.
I liked how rough you were. How you saw that I was breaking and knew just where to put pressure to keep me from crumbling.
It shuts my brain off and gives me the clarity I need. ”
He emphasized the fact that I know him, and before I probably would’ve agreed, but now I’m not as convinced.
There was this huge part of him that I completely overlooked.
Not only that, but I also replaced it with my own shitty narrative.
To me, it seems like I plucked out pieces and parts of him and stitched them together until I created a monster to loathe.
All the things I thought about him before were all made up in my mind, but I can’t let that get me off track.
The last few weeks with Lance were real, at least. I do know some things about him.
Then it hits me, the here and now of this situation.
What we’re doing. What we’re discussing.
Instinctually, I nearly call the whole thing off.
I almost turn away and tell him that we can’t do this, that I can’t be the person he does this with, but my body isn’t cooperating.
It refuses to listen, and for once I’m grateful, because within a split second I realize that there’s no one else in this fucking prison that he could trust with this.
There’s not a single person that I would trust with him.
I may not know him the way I thought, but I will.
From head to toe, I’ll know every blemish on his body. Fucking watch me.
“That’s fucking fine, Lance. We can still do that, but differently.
If I would’ve tried to fuck you just as hard and fast, it could’ve really hurt you.
You get that, right?“ I ask with genuine concern. It’s not just that I care about Lance, because despite what I know the truth is, I’d still deny it all day long.
It’s that this could’ve ended up really badly for him.
What if the person he started to mess around with wasn’t me?
Would he have told them that he was a virgin?
Would he have just tried to jump into things like he knew what he was doing?
“I’ll teach you,” I blurt out before I think about what I’m saying.
That much is clear, because if I had thought about this first, I would never have agreed to do that.
I already had a fucking insatiable crush on the dude, or since I apparently know very little about him, I guess I had a crush on his fuckhot body.
The last thing I need is to take his fucking virginity and start teaching him everything there is to know about sex.
Prostate play, hand-jobs, blowjobs, foreplay, kissing, aftercare.
Fuck.
I treated him like shit the other night.
Jesus Christ.
I run my fingers through my hair in frustration as I glance up at him. He’s just staring back at me thoughtfully as I lose my shit over here.
“What?” I ask anxiously.
“Why are you offering to do this, Roman? You hate me.”
Quite the opposite, actually. I ignore the little jab and get right to the crux of the issue. “You’re gonna get yourself hurt, Lance. I can teach you how to do things the right way, the safe way, and then you can go out into the world and use your flirtatious prowess on the masses all you want.”
He narrows his eyes at me in suspicion. “I don’t know.”
“Tell me what you’ve done before.” I demand as I relax back against the arm of the couch and prop my feet up in his direction. He immediately scoots my feet over so that he has enough room to pull his feet up beside mine.
“Okay. So, I’ve given blowjobs,” he starts ticking things off on his fingers as he stares up at the ceiling. “Hand-jobs, let someone jerk off on my face, watched other people having sex—”
“Like porn or voyeurism?”
“Voyeurism. Exhibitionism? Is that the word? People watching me give head. And umm… I think that’s all.” He says as he looks back at me.
That’s not bad, except for one tiny thing that’s immediately caught my attention. “None of those things involve your dick, Lance.”
“Correct.” He says with a confident nod.
“Why? You wouldn’t even pull it out last night.”
His cheeks turn dark pink as he turns away from me. “I… uh… I’ll tell you, but you have to swear not to make fun of me.”
If he thinks that the banter is going to stop between us, he has another thing coming. That shit is a part of who I am. I’m not actually a dick most of the time, but a little teasing keeps things fun. I never mean to do it in a way that makes him feel bad though, so I want to make that clear.
“Oh, I’m still going to make fun of you, pretty boy, but never about sex. And never about things that you’re self-conscious about.”
“You swear?” He asks as he cuts his eyes over to me.
“Scout’s honor,” I say as I hold up two fingers.
It’s some girl scout saying that one of my sisters used to do all the time.
She learned it when she was little, when they actually let the kids they adopted leave our compound.
She’s in her thirties or forties now, if she’s still alive, but she was still using it as a legitimate honor pact when I was traded to Maven.
It was always really important to her, so it’s something that I take seriously.
“Well, there’s… uh… two things actually.” He says before he swallows nervously. “I’m not— I’m uncircumcised.”
“Okay… And that bothers you?”
“No one else here is.” He mumbles as he glances down at his hoodie and starts fiddling with the strings.
“There are plenty of people here that aren’t, Lance. It’s actually pretty common. Most people from the UK aren’t circumcised.”
“Well, I’ve never seen anyone else.“ He admits, dramatically tilting his head in disagreement.
“It’s perfectly normal, and actually really nice. You can do this thing called docking, which you can’t do with two circumcised dicks.”
He nods wearily, causing little fractures in my heart, as he whispers. “Alright.”
“Hey…” I say as I nudge him with my foot, causing him to look up at me. “I promise. It’s hot. Tell me the other thing. I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, okay?”
He starts to blush again as he nods. “Can I— Would it be okay if I showed you instead?”
“Yeah. Of course.” I nod as I move my feet off the couch. He goes to stand up but stops and stares over at me sternly.
“This doesn’t ever leave this room, Roman. I’m trusting you.”
“Scout’s honor,” I say again. “I swear.”
“I don’t know what scout’s honor is…” He mumbles as he stands up. I start trying to tell him about how my sister used to say it because of something she learned with the girl scouts, but as soon as Lance rips off his shirt, my words get caught in my throat.
“Holy fuck…“ I rasp out as my head plops back against the couch.
He’s not deterred by my outburst, and Jesus fuck, he shouldn’t be. His fingers tremble as he nervously unbuttons his pants and pushes them down to his ankles before stepping out of them.
“Lance…”
“It’s— I know it’s a lot. So, I understand if you’re not into—”
“Shhh, shhh, shhh,” I wave my finger at him. “I’m very into it. Fuck, you look incredible, pretty boy.”
My eyes trail over his bare flesh, getting hung up in the lacy underwear that clings to him.
It’s nearly sheer, but not quiet. I can see the outline of his dick when normally I wouldn’t be able to, and that makes everything about this so much more exciting.
He squirms as my eyes move up to the top.
A thin bra lays flat against his chest, the same color as the underwear.
They’re a deep plum purple that compliments his skin complexion exquisitely.
“Uhhh. I have— Ollivander special orders them for me.“ He nervously rambles as he glances down at himself. “Devlin gave him my measurements from my medical chart.”
My eyes can’t decide where to look, because every inch of Lance is pure perfection.
He’s not super fit or anything. There’s no six pack lining his stomach, or huge arm muscles to gawk at, but there’s still so much to appreciate.
His flawless skin that flushes with embarrassment, his hair that’s oddly sexy when it’s messy, his pouty lips, everything.
Every damn inch. He’s got random tattoos all over his arms and legs, piercings, and underneath all of them he still seems so innocent.
So pure. Even before I knew that he was a virgin.
Maybe that’s why he gets so much attention.
He’s a conundrum. This guy that appears so hard on the exterior, so unbothered, but if you look at him, really look, all his insecurities scream at you.
The way he squirms when he actually does get someone’s full attention.
The nightmares. The way he doesn’t let anyone touch him.
The way he stumbles over his words when he gets nervous.
There’s so much more to Lance than what he allows people to see, and I want to peel back every layer until I find everything there is to know about him.
My eyes catch on a tattoo on his chest that barely peeks out from beneath the lacy top. It’s a circle with something inside of it that I can’t quite make out, but the style throws me off. It only takes me a couple seconds to realize that it’s not a tattoo… it’s a brand.
“Were you nervous about the lingerie or the scar?” I ask as I meet his gaze.
He clears his throat nervously as he looks down at it, reaching up to run his fingertips across it. “Umm… honestly? Both.”