Chapter Twenty-One
Jackson
Back to the present, in a hotel suite in Rio de Janeiro…
It’s been so long since I’ve experienced normal. While nothing about the things I’m feeling and experiencing as I wake up feel “normal”, I can honestly say that I feel good. And that’s something I haven’t felt in even longer than normal.
The room I’m in is dim; the curtains I pulled closed across the huge window last night are still closed and only a faint amount of sunlight is bleeding through the gauzy, lightweight material. I’m not that surprised by that while the fabric appears sheer and wispy, the curtains are clearly made up of several layers and designed to provide privacy and seclusion for those staying in this hotel.
I’m not sure how long Phoenix was in the room with me last night before I became aware of it. All I know is one minute he wasn’t there, and it was only me curled up on top of the bed with the blanket pulled over my head and wrapped tight around me, and the next he was, his lean arms banded around me, feeling stronger than they looked, while his husky voice crooned soothing nonsense at me through my cotton cocoon.
I’d spent so long in darkness that it seems illogical to me that, all too quickly, I’d sought comfort and security within the embrace of darkness again. But visually blocking out reality had let me pretend that Phoenix hadn’t left. That he hadn’t left me alone, with nothing but fear, uncertainty, and unwanted memories to keep me company.
Now that Phoenix has come back to me though, I’m relieved that the fabric barrier I’d swaddled myself in got pushed down at some point during the night. Scarcely draped across the lower portions of our legs, the blanket does nothing to conceal the way Phoenix’s and my legs are twined together, or the way there’s barely room for a shadow to pass between where our bodies are pressed close together, my back to Phoenix’s front.
I only wish that I’d had the chance to change out of my dirty and revolting clothing before my panic swamped me. I can smell the clean scent of Phoenix in bed with me—the fresh odor of new clothes, the lush, exotic fragrance of body soap and shampoo, and a hint of crisp spiciness from a cologne or aftershave—and it doesn’t seem right or fair that all of his clean goodness is being tainted by my unwashed disgustingness.
If there were a way for me to slide out of Phoenix’s embrace, take myself off to the bathroom to scrub off all the layers of muck and grime off my body, locate some clean clothing to wear, then tuck myself back into the warmth and safety of his arms without him noticing, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Because, while waking up wrapped up in another man’s arms is nowhere within the universe of normal for me, that is the very thing that is making me feel so good this morning. As if all is actually right with my world, despite knowing how very much it isn’t.
It doesn’t even bother me that there is a very noticeably hard dick jabbing itself against my butt cheek. Now, that is a situation I never thought I’d be in and the fact that it isn’t freaking me out or making me uncomfortable… Actually, no. That seems perfectly right, too. Because it’s Phoenix. Because, of all the dicks in the world, it’s Phoenix’s dick. If anything, I feel a pulse of additional guilt that not only am I gross and dirty, I don’t have a lot of padding on my ass for Phoenix’s dick to poke against.
A rumble vibrating deep in Phoenix’s chest and the slightest tightening of his arms around me precedes a shift of his hips and, suddenly, Phoenix’s dick is pressing even more insistently against my butt. Apparently, the man is waking up, raring to go and looking for a little morning somethin’-somethin’. The small, pleased hum he makes tells me that perhaps my flat ass isn’t as much of a disappointment as I assumed.
He might not be completely asleep anymore, but I doubt Phoenix is fully awake. He strikes me as the honorable sort who’d get a fellow’s consent before outright grinding away on him, the way he’s doing to me right now. But I find, I don’t mind what he’s doing. I’d probably give him the go-ahead if he were conscious enough to ask for one. Because, unexpectedly, what I am feeling is a return of those swirling butterflies in my stomach that I’d felt last night when Phoenix had been touching and caressing my face.
I don’t think it’s arousal. Not…not like that. My own dick isn’t getting in on the action, it’s all still and limp within the confines of my jeans and undies. But I’m sure as heck feeling something at having Phoenix all pressed up against me and interested in, uh, that.
But all too soon, only a couple minutes or so of him rolling his hips and rutting his erection against me, Phoenix’s dick isn’t the only thing that’s stiff, his whole body stilling and tensing up.
“Shit. Shitfuck. Shit. Shit, I’m sorry, Jackson. Shit, I didn’t mean—"
Phoenix’s hips jerk backward and there’s no longer a hard, eager dick doing its best to become acquainted with my backside. He also tries to pull his arms from around me, but I don’t let him get away with putting any sort of space between us. My hands clamp down on his arms before they can slide away from me and I tighten the clamp my legs have around one of his.
“Stop it, Phee, just stop.” It still feels like he’s trying to disentangle himself from me, so I set out to reassure him. “Phoenix, no, it’s fine. I know morning wood’s a thing, something you can’t even control, and it’s okay.”
“Fine, yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay for me to…” His huff of breath tickles the fine hairs lying limp against the back of my neck. “To…you know.”
“‘Cept it is okay, ’cause I’m tellin’ you it is. It’s fine, you don’t need to be goin’ anywhere.”
“Ugh, babe, that’s…that’s all fine and good for you to say, but… Jackson. Sweetheart.” Phoenix’s voice sounds apologetic, but also not , as he continues, “It’s…it’s been over a week since I…you know. And if you let me stay plastered up against you, I’m going to keep being hard. And my body’s going to want to…want to… Well, it’s going to want to keep doing what it was already doing. And I don’t think you—"
“Okay.”
It’s like he didn’t even hear me, his voice insistent as he continues arguing. “And I’d never, I’d never, ever, do something to you against your consent, against your wishes. I wouldn’t. Even if you didn’t mean as much to me as you do. But you do. And so I wouldn’t want to, I wouldn’t. But I’m not sure, not a hundred percent, that my body wouldn’t just…just…”
“Phoenix.” I can tell he’s about to gear up for some more of the same. And I really don’t need, or even want him to do that. So, I repeat his name, louder, firmer, making sure he hears me this time. “Phee. Listen. Listen to me.” I pause for a beat to make sure he is listening to me and he’s not going to talk anymore until I’ve said my piece. “It’s okay. Let your body do what it’s gonna do. I don’t mind. I want you here. Next to me. Close to me. Pressed up as tight as tight can be. I don’t want you goin’ anywhere. Not now. Not ever.”
I wait, giving him a chance to voice some sort of reaction to what I just said. But after all I get from him is a soft, helpless groan that I’m not sure he meant to make, I tell him, “Use me. You seem to enjoy bein’ this close to me. And I don’t mind. I like it. I do,” I insist, having the feeling that Phoenix will need to hear that reassurance. “So, use me. Please, Phee. I want it.”
It’s as if me saying that it’s what I want is the thing that breaks him. Because, as soon as the last word leaves my lips, his restraint breaks free and the civilized, rational, conscientious part of Phoenix—the part that’s telling him not to, telling him all the reasons it would be wrong—falls away. A mighty moan, close to a sob, comes crashing out of him as his arms re-tighten their hold around me and his hips begin a dance as old as time.
The solid, hard length of Phoenix’s dick ruts against the lean curve of my ass.
“Jesus. Fuck, babe.” He’s groaning and panting behind me, disjointed words of enjoyment and praise tumbling out of him. “Do you know... How could you? You feel so good. So perfect. Just like this, right like this, in my arms, so lean and slender and... Fuck. You’re so perfect. Can’t believe... So close and you don’t even know, do you? Ungh . What you do to me.”
The tentative, flickering fluttering in my stomach is now a hurricane-strength, swirling cyclone churning and rearranging the very depths of my soul. All I’m doing is lying there, on top of a lush bed that probably costs more than a brand-new car, and letting Phoenix use me for his pleasure and I...I’ve never felt more right. I feel like just what Phoenix is telling me I am—perfect. Perfect just as I am, perfect for him.
“That’s right, Phee. Keep going. Use me, take me.” I’m yours I think, but those words I manage to swallow before they can embarrassingly escape from me. Not that the words I am saying are any less cringeworthy than the ones I don’t. “Use my body to get yourself off.”
“I’m going to… I’m…I’m…” His words cut off as his breath hitches, then his whole body stills behind me.
A low, satisfied-sounding grunt accompanies Phoenix’s orgasm, and I wish I knew what that looks like on his face. I’d like to know what Phoenix looks like when he’s in the grips of desire, in the moments leading up to an orgasm, and then be able to see the exact second he comes as it plays out upon his face.
Oh well, something to aim for next time.
I feel the gentle pressure of Phoenix nuzzling and pressing soft kisses to the back of my head. “Oh, Jackson. Sweetheart.”
I’m once again riddled with regret that I didn’t take the opportunity to shower and wash off several weeks of dried sweat and grime. All of me feels glazed with a layer of yuck and, as much as I’m enjoying Phoenix’s sweetly affectionate actions, I also want him to stop before he notices just how revolting I still smell and feel.
Phoenix’s arms are still draped around me, but in a comfortable and relaxed embrace now that he came. So, it doesn’t take much for me to wriggle out of his arms and scoot closer to the edge of the mattress, creating a bit of space between our bodies, although, as soon as they fall away from me, I miss the feel of his hands, which had been idly petting my chest and stomach.
“We should go shower.”
I must sound terser than I mean to, because Phoenix’s reply sounds full of guilt and remorse. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t…I didn’t… You said I could… That you wanted… Oh, Jesus, I’m sorry. I should’ve never—"
No, that isn’t what I want. Not at all. I swiftly roll over to face him and press my fingers against his mouth to halt his unnecessary apologizing. “No, stop.” I’m aware that my fingers are as dirty as the rest of me and I hope I’m not transferring anything truly vile onto his lips. “I wanted you to, uh, do what you did. With me. Against me. Whatever. I wouldn’t have said you could if it wasn’t something I wanted,” I say. Phoenix is avoiding my eyes, so I can’t see how much he’s absorbing what I’m telling him. So, I do the best I can to convince him by offering an explanation for my suggestion. “I’m not mad at you. I don’t regret what just happened. I just… I didn’t shower last night, so…”
“Oh.” The first one is soft and short, but Phoenix’s second sound of understanding is long and drawn out, “Oooooh…” and his eyes finally flick up to meet mine. “I see. Hmm.” Thankfully, he doesn’t comment on, or seem to judge me for, wallowing in my filth for half a day longer than I needed to and how I brought that filth into a nice, clean bed with me. “Now that I think about it, a shower does sound like an excellent idea,” he states. The crooked smile he makes is impossibly charming. “I seem to have made a bit of a mess of my clothes. And if I’m going to be getting naked to change my clothes, I may as well take another shower while I’m at it. I don’t suppose, in the interest of water conservation—"
“You can go first,” I interrupt, and I’m immediately angry with myself at the way the Phoenix’s eyes shutter and the flirtatiousness falls away from his expression. It was a knee-jerk reaction, though. Showering near another man, in the locker room at school or after a workout at the gym, is one thing. But to share a shower, to be in such close, forced proximity with another man, both of us naked…
“Sure. Yeah. Of course.” Phoenix sounds pleasant enough, but I can tell that he’s back to assuming that I didn’t want, and didn’t enjoy, having him dry humping against me until he came. “I suppose it only makes sense,” he adds. “I just need a quick rinse off and you… You’re going to want to spend a considerably much longer time in the shower.”
“Yes. Exactly.” I jump on the excuse he offered, since it sounds reasonable and puts a better spin on things than that I’d had a momentary freak out over being naked with him. “And I need to shave all this grossness off my face,” I add, scratching my fingers along the edge of the itchy, sporadic patches of an almost-beard. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve been able to get my hands on a razor.”
I have a feeling that the only thing that will convince Phoenix that I really didn’t mind what just happened between us in this bed, really and truly convince him, is to let it happen again. That, or something similar. Some sort of sexual…something. I’ll just have to wait for that situation to come around and then maybe my willingness would make him believe.
In the meantime…
“Your parents, or somebody, left plenty of new clothes here for me. You can borrow something from the pile on the dresser if you don’t want to wander, naked or in only a towel, across the hall to your room to fetch some of your own clothing to change into.”
It’s instinct that has me leaning in close to Phoenix and softly brushing my lips against his. His dark eyes are wide and startled as I pull back from the brief kiss. Our first kiss, discounting the sweet kisses Phoenix dropped against my hair.
“Sounds good. And while you’re showering, I can…I can…” His reply continues our conversation, but I’m not entirely sure Phoenix even knows what he’s saying. His eyes frantically search my face, while his hand drifts up to hover a few inches away from his mouth. From what I can tell, it seems like his mind is more on the kiss I just gave him than on the topic of our separate showers. “Um… I can order us room service?”
Something tells me that instances of Phoenix being flustered and on uneven ground are few and far between. So, I’m going to enjoy this one for all it’s worth. And maybe do what I can to prolong it.
Besides, he really is so very sweet.
“Hmm.” It doesn’t take much for me to close the distance between us again and I drag my lips over his in another kiss. “If you wouldn’t mind… Dunno what time it is, but I imagine you can get them to make whatever you ask them to make. Don’t suppose you could get ’em to make me a whole heap of pancakes, could you? Plenty of syrup. And some bacon? A whole pig’s worth of bacon.”
It’ll probably make me sick; my stomach won’t be used to that kind of food anymore. Or any kind of food, really, not in the large amounts the hotel kitchen would probably send up. Not for a while. But, oh, would it ever be worth it.
That second kiss does exactly what I want it to, keeping Phoenix adorably befuddled.
“Sure. Yes. If that’s… Um. If that’s what you want then, yes. Yes. That’s what I’ll order for you. Uh. After my shower, that is.”
When Phoenix makes no move to actually get up and head for his shower, I gently nudge his shoulder to get the ball rolling. Plus I really want that room service breakfast now. Just because he’s planning on swapping his current shirt out for a different one doesn’t mean I want to chance leaving dirt smudges on it. Knowing my luck, it would leave a permanent stain that Phoenix wouldn’t be able to wash out.
“You wanna go take that shower now, Phee?”
I have just enough time to see a pink flush sweep into his cheeks, and then Phoenix is quickly scrambling off his side of the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. I barely even get a glimpse of the dark damp patch on the front of his khaki shorts, the evidence of his coming in his pants, before he’s behind a closed door and out of sight. But it’s enough of a glimpse to leave me feeling pretty happy with myself. I did that. Me. Jackson Delacroix. I gave Phoenix enough pleasure that he lost control and was left with a load of cum filling his pants.
I might still feel grimier than I’ve ever before felt in my life, and the odor of my own body might be enough to make my eyes water, but good goddamn, I am feeling really pretty fucking content right about now.
I can’t actually hear the sound of the shower being turned on, not through how thick the hotel room’s bathroom door is. But I have no doubt that Phoenix is getting into the shower right about now. So, I turn onto my back, on top of this ridiculously cushy bed, tuck my hands behind my head, and cheerfully settle in to wait for my own turn at the shower. And for whatever is going to happen next.