12. Cam #4
We moved together, pushing and pulling. Sweating, gasping, panting as one.
My hands found his cock, stroking him in time with my thrusts as his fingers dug into my back.
He beckoned me deeper, urging me for more.
I stopped worrying about hurting him, stopped holding back.
Let my body merge with his as our lips found each other in the dark.
“Cam. Oh, fuck, Cam.”
My name in his mouth was the sweetest sound, and I knew then that I’d found what I wanted to live the rest of my life for. Or rather, who.
I’d spent so long by myself, and maybe it was rash to feel so much, so soon, but the part of me that Jordan had unlocked knew that this was real. This was more. More than my body, or my mind, or even my heart. My need for Jordan was as wide as the ocean, as deep as the earth.
And when his breaths came faster, his moans higher-pitched, when my name became a prayer on his lips, I was right there with him, ready to dive in.
“Please,” Jordan gasped. “Oh, fuck, Cam, please. I need—I need—oh, Cam.”
He came in a rush, and as he did, his ass squeezed my cock, making his tight channel even tighter. I let go, abandoning myself to the pleasure between us. I came hard, and imagined myself filling him up. Imagined him keeping a part of me inside him always, no barriers between us.
He threw his head back on the pillow, a blade of moonlight kissing his skin silver. His chest heaved, his eyes watching me as my thrusts finally stilled. His cum coated my fingers, and I brought my hand to my lips, licking it clean. His eyebrows rose, and I smiled.
“I like the way you taste.”
We lay still for as long as we could, before I pulled out and threw the condom in the trash. I pressed a kiss to his forehead, then went to the kitchen for water and a washcloth.
Jordan was lying on his side when I came back to bed, still naked. My eyes drank in every inch of him, and I could see he was doing the same. For once, I didn’t feel the need to hide.
He drank deeply from the glass of water I’d brought him, then snuggled in next to me like he did this every night. I pulled him to my chest, like I did that every night. It felt like I did. It felt right.
“I suppose I should ask, rather than just assuming,” he said after a moment, “but is it okay if I stay tonight?”
“You can stay as long as you want,” I told him.
He laughed softly. “Thanks.”
“I mean that, you know. I know you want to go back to New York eventually, but really, I’d love to have you here for as long as you want to stay.”
Jordan peered up at me. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Even if I moved in and messed up your melon patch and distracted you from your work and dragged you to social events with my family and just generally made a mess of your life?”
“Even then.” I smiled. “I think my life could use more mess in it. It could definitely use more of you.”
After a moment, he said, “I don’t…have to…go back to New York, actually. I don’t have a lease or anything, and I don’t think the coffee shop I worked at is holding my job, since I didn’t tell them how long I’d be gone for.”
It wasn’t technically a question—except, it was.
“I thought you didn’t want to get stuck on Summersea,” I whispered.
“I thought so too,” Jordan said. “For a long time, I did. But I’m starting to realize it wasn’t Summersea I was trying to get away from. It was my fear that I’d never be good enough, never amount to anything, if I stayed here. And in the end, I don’t think that has anything to do with where I am.”
“Yeah?”
“I think it has more to do with which voices I listen to. Which ones I let live inside my head.”
“I know a little something about that,” I said. “It can be hard to fight against the negative ones.”
“It can,” he agreed. “But I want to get better at trying. Instead of just running away and letting them win.”
“I like the sound of that.” I kissed his shoulder. “You’re sure you wouldn’t feel like you were giving something up, though, if you stayed?”
“With you?” Jordan smiled. “No. With you, I feel like I’m finally where I belong.”
I wasn’t sure when we fell asleep, exactly, but somewhere between the nitty-gritty discussion of where Jordan would stay, if he moved back to Summersea permanently, and jokes about us starting a commercial melon farm, I drifted off.
I woke at dawn, like I always did, but with Jordan in my bed, I felt no desire to get up.
So I let myself slip back under, dozing and resurfacing for the next hour or so, my arm still curled possessively over his chest. When I woke up for the fifth time, though, it wasn’t the sun that did it, or even Jordan’s hair tickling my nose.
It was someone banging on the door.
“Cam? Cam, I swear to God, you’d better be in there!”
I sat up, confused and disoriented. What time was it? And who the hell was—
“You’d better have just finked out and avoided the dance last night, and not be dead lying in a ditch somewhere. Cam, answer the damn door!”
Oh, God.
Jordan pushed up in bed next to me, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Cam?” He looked bewildered and kissable. “What’s going on?”
“It’s your brother,” I said, my heart sinking. “Levi’s here.”
“What?” His eyes went wide.
Last night, we’d talked about him staying with Levi for a while. Talked about how he’d gently break the news about not going back to New York, and then, weeks later, maybe months, we’d tell Levi about the two of us. But all of that was about to fly out the window.
“Quick.” I threw back the covers. “You grab your clothes. I’ll go to the door and try to keep him outside.”