16. Lucas
SIXTEEN
Lucas
I wake to the awareness of Roman’s body curved behind mine, his bare cock semi-hard against my ass. My own cock is heavy and aching, stiff because Roman’s hand is curled lightly around it. I murmur and press back against him. He starts stroking me.
I relax into the pleasure as his hand works up and down my shaft. His thumb massages my tip. His fingers dig teasingly into my balls.
He starts breathing harder against the back of my head, and his cock stiffens against my ass. I love that he enjoys touching me.
But I need more. I need him inside me. I reach for the lube.
“I just started,” he complains .
“You started before I was awake, or I wouldn’t be this hard.”
“That’s true,” he admits as he cups and rolls my balls.
I groan in pleasure and frustration.
“This is the only time you’re impatient,” he says, holding his hand out for me to squeeze lube into it.
I love when he’s like this, lazily chatting with me. It’s rare. I don’t waste it.
“It’s your fault,” I tease as he resumes stroking me, his hand moving slickly now. “God, that feels good.”
He murmurs against the back of my head, pleased.
Sometimes I can’t believe that I once thought I was straight. It’s so obvious now what my body needs, what I need. But I’m glad, actually, that I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have wanted anyone but Roman to teach me about my body.
I bite my lip when his hand moves to my ass. He rubs my hole, letting me enjoy the sensation before he presses in. He strokes and stretches me with his fingers, taking his time.
When he draws his fingers out, I expect to feel his cock, but he says, “Ride me.”
My breath catches. I love riding him, but it’s not something we do often.
His mood has been different since he talked to Vitali yesterday. I think it actually started before that, but something really shifted after that conversation. He’s been thinking a lot since then.
I see that fact clearly when I sit up, as he rolls onto his back and guides me to straddle him. He’s sorting through things in his head. But there’s an openness to it that hasn’t been there in the past. I can see it in his eyes. I know in the fact that he wants me to ride him.
I’m sitting on his thighs, behind his cock.
The sight is so erotic, with the heavy threading of veins along his shaft to the darkened tip, the swollen weight of his balls at the base.
I want to touch him, but I look to see if it’s okay.
He’s been so closed up lately that I haven’t touched his cock for a while. He nods.
I squeeze lube into my hand then curl it around him. His eyes close and he breathes in as I stroke him. I start rocking slightly, without thought, as I run my hand up and down. I push my cock against his and stroke both of us. He sucks in a breath. His hands lightly rub my thighs.
It’s so enjoyable, but he’s right that I’m impatient. I need him inside me. I lift myself over him, holding his cock upright so I can sink down onto it. I watch him the whole time, the way he starts breathing harder, the way his lips part. I love watching his reaction while feeling how he opens me.
When he’s all the way inside, I lean forward, hands planting on his chest outside of the bruising.
It’s a little difficult to ignore that, but I make myself.
I want us to enjoy our bodies. Roman doesn’t rush me.
He just lets me adjust and take my time.
I love when he fucks me, when he’s rough with me, but I love this too.
I start to rock. I’m slow at first, trying to savor it, but it feels too good. I get rougher. I get noisy. Roman’s hands are on my hips, following my rhythm.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, watching me through half-lidded eyes.
He’s beautiful too, but I’m beyond words. I just moan and work myself on his cock. I arch so he can hit my prostate.
I don’t know if Roman will come like this. He doesn’t always. I think it feels vulnerable to him. But he starts bowing up under me, and it’s so incredibly erotic to see him like that that I work myself harder. I can’t help it.
“Fuck,” he grunts. “ Fuck .”
His head is smashed back into the pillow. His hips start thrusting upward, driving his cock deeper, hitting me just right.
I can’t hold on much longer, but neither can he.
He cries out roughly as his hips jack upward.
The second his cock kicks inside me, I seize on him and start coming.
Every pulse of his cock triggers another wave of my orgasm.
I’m painting him with my cum, marking him as mine while he marks me as his.
The last waves have us spasming against each other. It’s so beautiful to watch him. Slowly, he quiets under me. His hands massage my hips.
“I like watching you,” he says.
“I like watching you too. ”
Sometimes, I can see his mind skip away from things like that when I say them, kind of like his eyes tend to avoid mirrors, like he doesn’t want to see himself. But I feel like he hears me this time, like he’s trying to make space for my words.
***
After we’ve showered, I start making coffee. I love having this kitchenette. I’ll still do my baking in the main kitchen, but being able to make coffee and tea here, to enjoy it with just Roman, is really nice.
“Maybe we could sit outside,” I suggest.
Roman nods and goes out to check the patio.
I watch him through the window as he opens then closes each gate, making sure it’s safe.
Then he dusts off the chair cushions and opens the umbrella because the sun is so bright.
He comes back to get the coffee cups, then I follow him out, snagging The Wind in the Willows from the counter.
Usually, we read sci-fi, which Roman likes, or horror, which Roman hates, but sometimes I pick something like this, something light and playful so I can do all the voices for him.
I move the chairs closer together. “We need a bench,” I say as we sit. “Like a lounging bench, so I can lay on you.”
Roman puts his arm around me. “We can get one.”
I lean into him. “And some plants. That looks like it used to be a garden.” I point to the long edge where there’s a stretch of patchy grass .
Roman presses his lips to the side of my head. He’s silent for a long while, then he says, “I wish my mother had met you.”
“I wish I’d met her too,” I say then, hesitantly, I add something that I’ve been wanting to say for a long time. “I’d love to see a picture of her. Someday, I mean. When you’re ready.”
Roman’s breath catches, but then he lets it out and I feel him nod. It’s enough, more than enough. There’s no rush.
We both fall silent. I drink my coffee and wait because I can tell that Roman wants to talk to me about something. It’s not that he’s tense, it’s just that I can feel him thinking. I don’t push. I lay my hand on his thigh and let him take his time.
“I’ll try it,” he finally says. “What you suggested. Talking to someone.”
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I lean my head against him.
I’ve always known how strong Roman is. Some aspects of it were obvious from the moment I first laid eyes on him: his physical power and his ability to endure.
But over time, I’ve seen more and more facets of his strength.
When he first broke his silence for me. When he got us both free.
I’ve seen it, too, in how how hard he’s worked to make sure I’m happy and comfortable here.
But I don’t think I’ve ever seen it more clearly than I see it now.
“I love you, Roman. God, I do. ”
He buries his nose in my hair. “I love you too.” Then he nudges the book my way. “Do the voices,” he says, so I pick it up and open to chapter three.