Damien
TWENTY-SIX
NOW
Being on my knees for Callum wasn’t something I thought I’d get to experience.
It was a vision that haunted my dreams. All the things I wanted to do to him, with him, but couldn’t.
Not all of them were dirty. Some were simple.
Like the way I pretended to wake up next to him sometimes.
I’d keep my eyes closed for as long as possible and pretend that he was just out of reach and that if I opened my eyes slowly enough, he might materialize.
Other dreams were of this. His hands gripping my hair. Fingers biting into my scalp as he thrust forward, gauging how deep he could go. How hard he could fuck my face without hurting me.
I didn’t care if he did because no physical pain could come close to the agony that had been living without him. Callum was careful at first. Tentative. And then I opened my eyes and caught his gaze. Something in my expression made his control fracture.
“Fuck, Damien,” he said, driving himself in deeper. He took a small step closer to me, and it was enough to change the angle of everything. My back was arched a little, and I had to hold onto his legs to steady myself as he pistoned in and out, fucking my throat.
“Fucking. Fuck. Shit,” Callum growled, his grip on my hair increasing, sending fire through my scalp. It was exquisite. I wanted him to hurt me. To make it so I’d feel him later. Feel him on my skin the way I felt him under it.
His cock was thick and the taste of salty precum made my own cock weep in my pants.
My cock was rock fucking hard, to the point of pain almost, but I didn’t reach for it.
Too afraid that one touch and it would all be over.
Callum drove himself forward burying his cock down my throat.
My nose pressed to his skin, and he held me there with a firm grip on the back of the head.
His hips still moved, thrusting and thrusting and thrusting as I tumbled farther away from myself.
He pulled back and air came rushing into my lungs, cool and fresh and sweet. Above me, Callum’s chest heaved and he took another step backward, his dick stuck straight up now like a flagpole.
“Get on the bed,” Callum said, watching with interest as I pushed myself to my feet and undid my pants.
I undressed slowly, giving him a show and giving myself time to take a few breaths and think of math equations. Anything to take me further away from the edge or I was going to embarrass myself.
With trembling hands, I finished stripping and I climbed onto the bed.
I stretched out face down, a pillow tucked under my hips.
I folded my arms and buried my face in them.
None of this seemed possible. It all felt like a dream that I didn’t want to wake up from.
I’d had dreams like this before, but they were never this good.
Never this detailed. And yet I expected to wake up, cold and alone and fucking sad, like usual.
Only, I didn’t.
The bed dipped and Callum crawled up the mattress. He was halfway on me, halfway off me. He touched me like I was a horse he didn’t want to spook, all soft and cautious now that he’d ruined my throat.
Gentle kisses brushed against my shoulder blade. My arm. His fingertips danced down my back, following the curve of my spine.
“Tell me what you want.”
Callum’s words were an echo of the past and my heart split in half in my chest. Emotion clawed at my throat, making it burn.
“You. Want you.”
He kissed my shoulder again, then rolled over. When he returned a moment later, he had lube and a condom. He put the latter aside and focused on drizzling lube down my crack.
“Fuck.” I flinched. “That’s cold.”
Callum just laughed. “Not for long,” he said as his fingers slid down my crease, smearing lube around.
He traced my hole and a moan tore out of me from the depths of my soul.
I still touched myself there. I had toys I used on occasion too, but I hadn’t been with anyone else like that. Not since him.
I spread my legs a little, making the invitation absolutely clear. He could do whatever he wanted to me. I was his. I’d always been his.
His finger entered me and the feel of it, the stretch and the burn and the fucking exquisite knowledge that the wait was finally over made me moan. My hands grabbed at his pillows, clenching hard on the soft, puffy fabric.
“God, you’re so tight.” Callum sounded like he was already gone, but he was trying to work in a second finger now. “Fucking hell, Damien. This ass.” Callum dropped another kiss on my shoulder.
“It’s yours.” It was the truth. It had been his then, and it was his now. I’d given him my heart, my soul, my body. I’d given him all of me, and I’d never asked for any of it back.
Callum worked me open. He took his time stretching me, stopping a couple times to add more lube.
He fingered me like he was going to be graded on his performance.
Underneath him, I writhed and moaned. I arched my back and pressed myself against his fingers, urging him to go deeper.
Harder. Faster. Showing him that I wanted more because feeling was believing.
“Please, Callum.” My voice rasped out, ruined like the rest of me.
He didn’t answer with words, just slipped his fingers out of me and rolled a condom on as fast as humanly possible. Then, after another liberal application of lube, he entered me.
The feeling was almost foreign. It was unreal.
He was so big and so hard that it felt like there was no room in me for air or thoughts.
I’d forgotten what it could be like to be this close to someone.
This… taken. How alive it made me when Callum thrust deeper and deeper.
Harder. Slower. He fucked me like he was trying to carve out a space for himself inside of me.
His hands were going to leave bruises on me where he gripped my wrists and pinned them to the bed. The slight scratch of his stubble as he pressed open-mouthed kisses against my skin was second only to the sensation of being ground down into the mattress.
He didn’t hurry. He took his time with me, savoring every glide, every thrust the way I was. I wanted him hard and fast. I wanted him to fuck me so hard he broke me apart. I wanted him to drill the memories without him right out of my body. There was only him. Only ever him.
“Damien, oh, my God.” He barely spoke the words. They were breathed against my sweat-slick skin as he fucked me. His hands slid down my wrists, enveloped my hands. He twined his fingers in with mine and then shifted his position a bit, digging his feet into the mattress for purchase.
It was like I was outside my body for a moment. I was looking down and seeing how fucking perfect we looked. How beautiful we were with Callum on top of me, holding me down, giving me everything he had. Everything I wanted. Everything I’d missed.
And it had never been this good. We were inexperienced teenagers the last time we did this, when sex was great because of endorphins and hormones and less because of skill or sexual prowess. Both of which Callum had in spades now.
He shifted a little and then suddenly everything went white as my body finally gave in…
and gave out. I came, calling his name. It tumbled out of my mouth over and over again, and he kept going, mercilessly pegging my prostate until I was wrung out and went still beneath him.
I didn’t even have the energy to writhe anymore.
Then Callum was pulling out of me, and I heard the sound of flesh on flesh. He pressed a hand against my shoulder and pinned me there as he worked himself with his other hand. I wished I could see him when he came, but I couldn’t move or think or do anything but lie there and breathe.
Callum came with a shout—that was another thing that was different from before.
When we were kids, we had to sneak around and be quiet and keep our sounds to ourselves.
At the time, that had added to the allure of it.
The secrecy. The challenge. But now, I fucking loved hearing how feral he sounded when he came.
How loud he was when he let go. I wanted more of it. All of it.
I was in deep where Callum was concerned. But I always had been.
He collapsed on top of me again, smearing cum between us without a thought or a care. He panted in my ear and dragged his fingers down my arm.
“You okay?” he asked. “Didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“‘M’good.” In fact, I was so good my speech had slurred. “So good.”
“Good,” Callum echoed and then sighed as he rolled off me.
With a little bit of coaxing, he got me on my side and then he slid in closer.
He wrapped me up in his arms, tangled our feet together, and then gave me the sweetest, most tender kiss I’d ever had.
It tasted like a promise. Like a declaration of things he couldn’t say out loud just yet.
Or maybe I was projecting.
“What are you doing here, Damien?” he asked, dragging a fingertip along the shell of my ear, making me shiver.
“I had to see you. I couldn’t… you’re so close now. I couldn’t stand it. I had to come.”
Callum considered my words but didn’t respond. That was okay. Not everything had to be spoken out loud. I could tell from the slight upturn to his lips and the sparkle in his eyes that he was happy to see me. Even if it was late. Even if I couldn’t stay long.
“When do you have to go?”
“I can stay for a while if I head out early. Did you want me to? Stay, I mean.”
Callum didn’t hesitate. Not for a single second. And then he was telling me what I should have told him years ago.
“Stay.”