Chapter 20 Evan
Evan
Stefan sits up, his mouth turning down in an irritated frown. "I'm not a virgin."
"I didn't think you were." Keeping my voice calm is killing me, but I don't want to push him further than he's ready for.
Definitely not while he's in some kind of lust induced trance.
It feels like taking advantage of someone when they're drunk, though I know he hasn't touched a drop of alcohol all day. "But with another guy?"
"No." He's pouting the way he sometimes does, and I hate how much I love it. "But it's not like I'm some fragile innocent."
He squirms a little, but I'm not letting him go.
I move enough to let him sit up, then settle back in, half on his lap, arm wrapped around him, mouth inches from his.
I let my hand rest on his cheek, staring into those pools of blue.
I've never met anyone with eyes like his.
So clear and perfect, not a hint of grey or green, purely striations of blue, almost invisible from any distance.
I have the advantage of light, streaming down onto his face, and I'm grateful for it. I need to be able to read his expression.
"Anyway," Stefan adds, sounding adorably petulant. "You're the one who refused to talk to me earlier, when I wanted to. How come you get to decide when we talk?"
It's a fair point. From the moment his hand touched mine in the car, I knew I was sunk.
I don't have a chance in hell of keeping this casual.
I'd been so terrified I'd say the wrong thing, that I'd admit to things I can't ever tell him.
He can't find out how deep it's getting, because as long as he doesn't, I can deny it.
I can let this thing between us keep going and pretend there won't be repercussions.
I dodge his question by pretending it never happened.
"I'm not implying you're fragile, just that you might not be certain what you want yet.
Which is fine, especially since this is new.
We can figure it out together. I need to know your limits, what you're expecting.
" As if I'm some paragon of consent and fount of knowledge.
Hell, I've only been with a few guys, all quick, meaningless, one night hookups; I'm not much more experienced than he is.
Yet... There is a fragility to Stefan, to the way he gives himself to me so fully, no matter how much he denies it.
I'd be an asshole if I took advantage. The one time I gave myself away that way, it was so overwhelming that when it ended, I was left with nothing.
Nobody. A shell of the Evan I thought I was.
I'll do whatever I have to do to keep Stefan from the same fate.
Not that he's desperately in love with me, the way I was with Caro. Of course not.
However, since he wants me in control and gets off on pain, I'm the one who has to be responsible. I'm not very familiar with the BDSM world, even after a few days of frantic internet searches, but that feels obvious.
Stefan sighs, slumping back against the couch, and I let him, giving him a little more space.
Georgia immediately takes the few inches of his lap I’ve uncovered, somehow squeezing herself between us.
Tea presses herself beside him on the other side of me, and despite the gravity of the moment, I can’t help but laugh.
His cats are ridiculous. Adorable little chaos bombs.
I'm still pressed up to him, fighting Georgia for the lap space, arms around his neck, but there are more than a few inches between our mouths for the first time. It's almost painful, the distance, even with a cat between us. Especially with a cat between us? She’s warm, and furry, and apparently made of water, but she’s a whole living being between my body and Stefan’s.
When I raise my eyes back to Stefan’s face, he looks so gorgeous and debauched, so precisely the way I've wanted to make him look since Worlds.
His face is red with beard-rash, lips swollen, eyes hooded.
I picture how he'll look more perfect in bed, naked, after I've done everything he's willing to let me do to him, and shiver.
"I don't know." His eyes are big, begging me to let it go and go back to doing whatever I want with him. He wants me to read his mind and pick up what he wants without him saying anything. It’s not what he needs. "I just want you."
I lean in carefully, not wanting to squish a cat, but letting my need to taste him again take over, and brush his lips with my own.
I keep it light, easy, almost friendly. Georgia squirms, annoyed, between us, and Stefan pushes her away with a huff.
"I understand,” I say, once it’s only me in his lap again.
“I love that you do. I want you, too, but how do you want me? What do you want me to do to you?"
He's got to be well-versed enough to be aware of what men do together, right? Nobody's innocent enough not to know at least the basics of what I'm asking. "I want you to fuck me," he breathes, and my breath catches. Oh, God. Yeah, he knows.
My dick is never going to forget how it reacts to those words. It's a good thing Georgia is gone, because its leap might have had her attacking it.
"Ok." I'm doing everything I can to keep my voice from shaking at the sheer, raw need pouring through me. In the wildest of my imaginings I never considered Stefan being so willing, so open. I'd assumed he'd want to top. I guess I was wrong.
This means I, too, am going to be delving into new territory. Literally.
When I snort, Stefan's eyes narrow. "Is that funny?" His voice tells me he can't decide whether to be hurt, annoyed, or amused.
"No, sorry." I soothe his edges with another kiss, letting it go a bit deeper this time. "I was just making stupid puns in my head." I don't think he's convinced, but he lets me get away with diverting him. "Anything else you've been dreaming about?"
"You think I've been dreaming about you?" He's trying to sound snarky, but with my lips still touching his and his face burned raw by my stubble, it's far from successful.
"I know I've been dreaming about you."
"Oh?" His voice jumps about an octave on the word, and his cheeks brighten more as he clears his throat. "Maybe you should tell me what you want, then. Why am I the only one who has to?"
I smile into his lips. It's another fair point.
"Maybe I should. Sooner or later, I want to try both top and bottom with you.
I kind of want to edge you until you scream.
" Which is, perhaps, a bit more honest than I should be with him at this point, but he asked.
"Since you seem to like pain, I want to play with that more, see what gets you off. "
I haven't done enough homework the past few days, but at least I understand some of the general concepts.
I'd wanted to be prepared, just in case.
I hadn't realized how prepared I'd need to be.
"If you want it, it might be fun to tie you up, too." None of these are things I’ve ever considered doing with anyone else, but I’ll do anything to give Stefan that look of absolute bliss.
He's squirming under me by the time I finish my list. "How much of that do you think we can do before you go?" No protestations; interesting.
"As much as you want." I kiss him again, letting our tongues tangle for a few seconds this time. "But maybe we should start with something easier."
"Like what?" He's straining up toward me again, begging with his body. Does he realize it?
Reaching down, I run my palm over his erection. Even through his clothes, I can tell he's iron hard. He lets out an honest-to-God whimper when I increase the pressure of my hand, curling it around him as best I can. "Let's go upstairs. Maybe get your pants off."
"Yes."
It's the kind of enthusiastic consent I can get behind.
We leave a trail of clothing behind us as we alternately rush and stop dead on the way to his room.
There's a long pause when I grab the waistband of his pants, pulling him in to me, then work the button and zipper open.
I take my time with it, kissing him. Another when he returns the favor, falling to his knees in front of me, eyes wide as he watches my face while he tugs my pants down my thighs.
I freeze, wondering what he'll do now he's got his mouth inches and one set of boxer briefs away from what is, I assume, his first dick. I don’t want him to feel pressured into anything he's not ready for, just because he happens to be in a particular position.
His hands wrap around my hips, fingers sliding under the waistband of my underwear.
As he pulls down, our eyes never leave each other.
His fall away when my briefs get caught, though; I’m too hard for them to slide off easily. He groans, then looks back up at me with an embarrassed grin. "Ok, I guess some things are different."
"You didn't know what I was packing this whole time?" I say it dryly, wanting to pull a laugh out of him.
Instead, he gives me a brilliant smile. "Just not used to having to pull out and down at the same time on someone else.
" He adds movement to his words, and my underwear slide down my legs, bunching with my pants around my ankles.
Then he's the one freezing, taking in what's directly in front of his face.
His eyes flick up to mine, dark in the dim light, then back down.
"You don't have to do anything." My voice is hoarse, though, and he catches it.
He smiles up at me again before, very deliberately, he leans forward.
My heart skips a beat when his tongue flicks out, sliding up my length in a single, drawn-out line. "Oh, God, Stefan."
I feel, rather than see, his answering smile as he presses his mouth to me. He licks again, working his way up my shaft with his mouth, his spine straightening, until his mouth is around my head. His tongue flicks, and I'm going to pass out; it feels so good.
He's impossibly beautiful when he takes me a little deeper, eyes rising to meet mine again, mouth full of my dick.
It is the sexiest thing I've ever seen, and it's my turn to whimper.
Maybe groan. Possibly some ridiculous noise somewhere between the two.
My blood is pounding too hard in my ears for me to tell.
My fingers, almost of their own volition, slide through his hair, tangling in the soft strands. Moments later, far too soon, I use them to pull his head back, away. "Stefan, you have to stop." I don't recognize my voice, the breathiness of it. "I'm going to come."
He resists my hands for a few seconds, then lets me slide him away with a last, lingering lick down my length.
When I pull him up, one hand on his arm, the other on his hair, I watch to see how he reacts to me using hair as a lever.
If it’s too controlling or hurts too much.
If the lust-drunk expression that's back on his face is any indication, he likes it.
I need to do more research, figure out how sub-space works. I'm not sure that's what I'm seeing, but I'm not sure it's not, either.
Stefan stumbles, falling into me, and I let go of his hair, catching him, pulling him in tighter so I can kiss him again.
When he's, somehow, more passionate than he was before he blew me, I relax a little.
He wanted it. He even enjoyed it, if the erection pressing hard against my hip is anything to go by.
We're standing in the hallway, only a few steps away from our rooms, but I can't wait any longer. Not after what he did to me. I reach down, wrapping my hand around his dick, repositioning myself so I can catch mine as well, lining them up.
I need lube; his spit on me isn't enough, but I can keep it up for a minute at least. Long enough for his eyes roll back in his head with the feeling of me jerking us together.
It turns out a minute is all I need.
I'm already too close. A few hard tugs and I'm coming all over my fist, groaning into Stefan's mouth.
My brain goes hazy, body tightening, then loosening as I shudder against his. Stefan starts to draw back, but I don’t let go. Instead, I turn us both, until I have the wall at my back, holding me up so I can focus on him.
We have enough lubrication, now, and I use it. He groans as well when he realizes what I’m doing, and his body tightens against me, as I continue to pull on our dicks.
I might be over sensitive in the moment, but I don’t care. I want to feel him come against me more than I want to give myself relief.
He's trembling, and I turn my head away from his mouth to nip at his jaw, the curve of his neck. I sink my teeth into the skin of his shoulder, not hard enough to bruise, but almost.
As if it's the key to his own release, Stefan shouts, shoves himself hard into my fist, and his come joins mine in a sticky mess. It's everything I could have hoped for.
I let us collapse, a slow slide down the wall until we're seated on the cool hallway floor. Stefan lets his head lull, pressed into my neck, and I wrap my clean hand around his, holding him to me. "Holy fucking shit," he murmurs. "I'm dead. You killed me."
I want to laugh, but it would take too much energy, and I'm as dead as he is. Instead, I rub my cheek against his soft, disheveled hair. "Same. Guess you're not scared of dick."
A strangled attempt at a laugh from him, and he burrows in further. "Apparently not. I didn't think I was, but... Holy shit, Evan. I had no idea."
"No idea of what?" I could guess, but I'd rather hear him say it.
"All of it." He raises his head, and I let him, until he's looking into my eyes. "That what you did was even a thing. How it would feel. How much I wanted it even though I didn't know about it. How spectacularly good you are. I should've known that, though. You're amazing at everything."
At that, I manage the laugh I couldn't earlier.
Maybe I'm waking up. I let my hand slide down his back, feeling his vertebrae, ribs, and the lean slabs of muscles holding him together.
He's every bit as perfectly formed as I remember, even after the off season.
But we've already established he's not good at taking breaks.
"Are you ok?" I ask.
"Seriously?" Stefan slaps me lightly on the chest, then burrows back into me. "That's the best thing that's ever happened to me, asshole."
Something that was still wound up tight inside me, still somehow worried I'd fuck everything up, loosens. If he's ok, I'm ok.
Except that he follows the statement with the question we've both been avoiding.
"What does this mean?"