34. A Maybe Not-So-Miserable Man
34
A Maybe Not-So-Miserable Man
Clayton
I watch Rocky’s face as what I’m asking finally seems to register. His breath catches in his throat and his eyes widen. “Clay… you want me to—”
“Yes. Please, Rocky.” He didn’t finish that sentence, but he didn’t need to. He and I both know exactly what I’m asking for.
1 He takes my face in his hands, gently stroking my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, wiping away any tears that may have fallen. His eyes search mine for a second, trying to figure out if this is something that I truly want or if it’s the anxiety attack talking. Turning my head, I gently kiss the palm of one of his hands, all while keeping my eyes locked on his pools of green, silently reassuring him that this is what I want.
What I need.
“I don’t want to feel it. Any of it. All I want to feel is you. Make it go away, Baby.”
He heaves a sigh of relief, as if me finally managing to string that many words together allows him to breathe just a little bit easier. With my face still in his hands, he tips it forward and places a deep yet gentle kiss on my forehead, and what normally feels like such an ordinary act of intimacy feels like anything but. I swear I can feel the caress of his lips all the way down to my toes.
His lips linger for a moment before he releases his hold on my face, turns the shower off, and pulls me through the bathroom and into my bedroom, not bothering to dry either of us off. Rocky spins me around so I’m facing him, and with his hands on my waist, he pushes me toward the side of the bed until the backs of my knees hit the edge. He gently pushes me so I’m sitting in front of him and he’s standing between my spread legs. With a tenderness I’ve never seen from him, he reaches up and brushes my wet hair off of my forehead; when his fingers thread through my hair, I moan into his touch as the pads of his fingers gently massage my scalp. I can feel the exhaustion taking over my body. I haven’t had a panic attack that intense in years, and even the mildest of ones make me want to do nothing but crawl into bed for twenty-four hours. But I want this more.
I want to let go. I want him to take care of me in the way I crave to be taken care of. I want this for me. For him. For us.
“You are beautiful, Clayton Aldrich,” he whispers lovingly as he looks down at me.
“Hmmm,” I groan in contentment. “I love when you say my name like that.”
He huffs out a laugh. “So you’ve said.”
With one hand on the center of my chest, he pushes until my back is flat against the bed. His fingers trail gently over the expanse of my body, stopping when they reach the tattoo on my collarbone that says “No risk, no story” in a thin script font. “When did you get this?”
“Beginning of sophomore year. Jax has the same one.”
Rocky smiles softly. “You love him, huh? ”
I do, without a doubt. So I answer plainly, “He’s my brother.”
Not needing any further clarification, the stroke of his fingers moves across the side of my rib cage, tracing the black ink that covers it. He reads the text written there, but phrases it as a question rather than a statement, “All we wanted was a place to feel like home?”
I shrug, the meaning behind this tattoo being a little more complicated than the first. “It’s a lyric from the song ‘Miserable Man.’”
“You really like that song or something?” A knowing look passes over his face, fully understanding that the quote means more to me than it simply being my favorite song.
But I don’t want to get into that right now so I nod and answer, “Or something.”
Rocky bends over and, much like he did to my forehead in the shower, places a soft kiss over the ink. And much like it did in the shower, his kiss sends a wave of rightness through my body. He hasn’t even kissed me on the lips since we’ve been here, and yet, I feel more connected to him right now than I ever have.
Instead of righting himself, Rocky moves his head to the center of my stomach. While looking up at me, he whispers, “You are so much more than you think you are, Clay. You are capable.” He places another light kiss on the center of my stomach and moves up until his face hovers over the right side of my chest.
“You are an incredible athlete.”
Kiss.
He moves to the left side of my chest. “This heart… Shit, this fucking heart makes you one of the best people I know.”
Kiss.
I feel tears well in my eyes as he moves to the base of my neck. “You make anyone you talk to feel like they’re the most important person in the room.”
Kiss.
“And this mouth.” His lips hover on the corner of my mouth, and regardless of how much I want him to kiss me, how much I want to lose myself in him, I want to hear what he has to say more. “I love every single sound that comes out of it, regardless of how ridiculous you’re being.”
He kisses one corner before moving to the other, and for the first time since before our game started, I feel myself smile.
“And I love the way it feels on me.” As much as I want to come up with some smart remark, I simply don’t have the energy.
Finally, his mouth makes its way back up to my forehead, and he says the one thing that could have me fall apart right here, right now, if I let it. “You have so much to offer this world, Clay. See it. Own it. Recognize it. And don’t let anyone tell you differently. Not now. Not ever.” His face hardens as his eyes search mine. “Do you understand?”
“I understand,” I answer softly. Just when I think he’s finally going to give me what I want, he stands in a rush.
Opening my bedside drawer, he smirks when he reaches in and grabs a bottle of lube. Squirting some in the palm of his hand, he reaches down and fists his cock. His hard cock.
I hadn’t even noticed it until now, entirely too focused on the way his words were washing over me.
Rocky squirts some more lube on his fingers as he instructs, “Scoot back a little for me. Feet on the bed.” His voice has dropped a couple of octaves, sending a wave of heat to my dick. I follow his instructions, and a look of satisfaction crosses his face once he notices me getting hard.
Positioning himself between my legs, he kneels on the bed. He rests one hand on the top of my knee before reaching down and rubbing his lubed fingers around my hole. Without much preamble, he shoves two fingers deep inside of me. My eyes close as I groan into the otherwise silent room .
“Uh-uh.” His fingers don’t move. “You look at me. Don’t take your eyes off of me, Clay. If you want me to give you everything, you show me everything.
Looking him dead in the eye, I say with every ounce of confidence, beyond sure that I want this, “Fuck me, Baby. Fuck me, now.” I want to feel him inside of me. Now.
“But—”
I shake my head. “I don’t need it.”
He looks at me for a moment before nodding and removing his fingers. And in that moment I realize how much he trusts me.
Rocky leans forward, resting himself on the forearm that is pressed into the mattress next to my head, as he fists his cock with the other hand. I run my hands over his hips and grip his waist when I feel his head nudge against my entrance.
“Do it.”
Without any further preparation, Rocky plunges himself deep inside of me. My back bows off the bed, as the two of us groan in unison. My jaw drops open as I savor every ounce of pleasure in the pain. Because this is exactly what I wanted. I wanted to feel nothing but him. Nothing but us.
Rocky stares down at me as I try to catch my breath, neither of us moving an inch. He repeats his words from earlier, and between the overwhelming sense of fullness, and the passion in his voice, a tear finally manages to escape. This one is so much different from the ones I shed in the shower only minutes ago. “So fucking beautiful, Clay.”
Rocky pulls out of me, and in a fluid motion, his mouth crashes against mine as he slams his hips forward. Finally, the familiar tickle of his mustache against my lips makes my entire being feel like it’s exactly where it’s supposed to be. Nothing else matters if I don’t have him.
Nothing.
As he continues to thrust in and out of me, the sounds of our wanton moans and the echos of skin slapping against skin fill the room. I haven’t so much as touched my cock, and I know I’m not going to need to. Because regardless of how much I want this moment with him to last, the sensation of him filling me—coupled with the insurmountable love I have coursing through me for this man—is almost to much to bear. And before I even know what’s happening, ecstasy races down my spine. I pull my mouth from his, and I come with a roar, my eyes locked on his the entire time. Calling his name like it’s my every prayer and salvation .
Like he was waiting for my release, still deep inside of my ass, I feel his cock pulse inside of me as he comes. “Fuck! Clay!”
The two of us lay there for what feels like hours when in reality, I know it’s only a few minutes. The sweat covering our faces and my cum between us causing our bodies to stick together as we catch our breaths.
“Thank you. For everything,” I whisper softly, as he rests his head on my shoulder.
As his dick softens inside of me, his hand finds its way to my hair again, this time mindlessly curling the hair between his fingers. “You’re welcome.”
When it’s clear neither of us is in any hurry to move, I say the only words I have the energy left to say, “I love you, Baby.”
And even though I know he feels it too, I’m not expecting him to say it back. Instead, I do feel him smile against my skin as his body melts against mine. “So you’ve said.”
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