Seth
Kaden slumps against me, breathing heavy. I can feel his heart beating, just as fast and hard as mine. I’m euphoric, adrenaline pumping through my veins and it feels like I’ll never come down from this high. This is better than any drugs I’ve ever tried, or heard of, I’m sure.
“You okay?” he mumbles against my neck. His breath is hot against my skin. I can only nod.
I loved it. I want to do it again. And again. And again.
He stays inside me until his dick’s gone soft and then he pulls out. He takes off the condom, tying it up, and walks into the bathroom. I hear him turn the water in my shower on, and I feel a little weird about it. It’s not any different from how guys usually treat me after sex.
But this is Kaden.
And maybe I expected something more?
But then he comes back, still buck naked, stretching his hand out to me.
“Come on,” he says, voice all gravelly. His hair’s messy and some strands are licking his forehead and temples. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes a little glazed and I’ve never seen him so fucking gorgeous.
I take his hand and stand on wobbly legs before he leads me into the shower. Standing behind me, he guides me in under the spray and kisses my neck, stroking his hands down my back.
“I don’t know the protocol here,” he mumbles.
I roll my head back on his shoulder and let the water hit my face and down my body.
“Am I doing it wrong?”
No, you’re not and that’s a big fucking problem for me.
I shake my head, hating how non-verbal I’m being, but if I get vulnerable after blowies and handjobs, that’s nothing compared to how fucking fragile I become after full-on sex.
I don’t let just anyone fuck me. I’ve only been with a few guys like that, and when that happens, I don’t want them to hang around after, because penetrative sex makes me sad.
Not the sex itself—honestly, I love it. I really do. But afterwards… I don’t know. I can’t really explain it, but I feel all cracked open, and vulnerable, and my mask starts to slip. It’s the same when I’m sad. I can’t hold it in place, and I go… soft. Needy.
Because I want the cuddles, the hair stroking. I want the soft-spoken words about nothing. I want whispered praises and secrets. I want to be told I’m beautiful, even when I’m sweat-slicked and covered in fucking cum. Especially then.
And no one can know that.
So, after sex, I hide.
I do love bottoming, but I usually stay dominant, because it makes it easier if I’m the one in control. They can’t take something I’m already giving.
But this time, I didn’t.
I let Kaden take the reins and I loved every second of it. I loved how he flipped me around, pounded into me, and hit my prostate like he had a fucking map to it. I loved everything about it. Even if it makes me feel all flared open now.
I need to snap out of it before he notices, so I clear my throat, take a step away from him and grab the shampoo.
I work it into my hair as I turn around to face him.
He grabs the body wash from the shelf, lathering it up in his hands as he watches me.
I shoot him a lopsided smile, and he smiles back before he drops his gaze to the floor.
“Are you sore?” he asks, washing his arms and chest. I follow the movements with my eyes before I step under the spray, rinsing out the shampoo.
“A little,” I chuckle.
“Was I too—”
“No,” I cut him off, shaking my head. Pinching my nose of water and look at him. “No, you were, uh…” I chuckle, and he hides his smile by looking down to the floor again.
And it’s weird and not at the same time. Like we’re all giddy and… I’m not used to that. I don’t know how to do this.
I find myself staring a little too long at him again. At his cupids bow, at the muscles in his arms, his chest. His abs, his strong thighs, and when he looks up at me, I close my eyes, and try to let the water wash away everything.
When we get out of the shower, we dress in silence, before Kaden drops down on my couch with a long exhale. I’m by the kitchen island, leaning back, arms crossed, staring at him, and I’m as close to panic as one can be.
I can’t hide with him here, but I can’t just kick him out and I can’t leave because, well, this is my apartment.
So, instead, I do what any sane person would and unleash the crazy on him.
“Isn’t it mind-blowing that we’ve known each other for almost seven years, and we’re still learning new things about each other?
” I blurt out. “Like, who knew you were so vocal in bed? I mean, I guess all of your exes know, and maybe a few other people, too.” A nervous laugh slips out of me.
“But I never knew that. I mean, you didn’t blabber or anything, but I mean, it’s kinda crazy if you think about it.
Everything we don’t know about each other. And did you know I—”
“Seth?” he says, looking at me.
“Yeah?”
“Are you freaking out?”
“What?” I shriek. “No! No. No, I’m not freaking out.” I shake my head, dragging my hands down my sweats. “Are you freaking out?”
He stands and walks over to me, tilting his head. “You wanna talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” That nervous laugh again slipping out. “I’m fine. We’re fine. This is fine.” I take a breath. “I’m fine.”
He nods. “Obviously.”
I sigh, dropping my shoulders. Swallowing, eyes darting around everywhere as I scratch my eyebrow.
“You want me to leave?” he says, and I lock my gaze with his. My heart beating fast and hard. I don’t want him to leave but I don’t want him to see me like this.
It’s already too late though, and something about what he sees makes him take a step closer to me and pull me into a hug.
Arms wrapping around me, chest against mine, and I completely melt against him.
Closing my eyes, I hug him back, resting my forehead against his shoulder.
I take a deep breath, inhaling his scent and the smell of my body wash on his skin, and feel my pulse slowing down.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble into his hoodie.
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
We stay quiet for a while, just holding each other. He strokes me over my back, and I sigh.
Then he swallows. “Do you think we crossed a line?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, can we still be us? After… this?”
Little too late for that on my part. I swallow down that thought.
“Yeah, of course.”
He nods. “Do you regret it?”
“No,” I shake my head. “I’m just…”
“Yeah… Me too. A little.”
I exhale a laugh. “Because it’s me or because it was your first time with a guy?”
“Both?” he chuckles. “And because I liked it,” he adds, mumbling, stroking a hand over my back.
He liked it. He’s not disgusted or freaked out or…
He liked it.
“I liked it, too,” I whisper.
“Good,” he whispers back. “’Cause I wanna do it again.”
My eyes widen. “Now?” I ask loudly which makes him startle a little and then he chuckles.
“No. Not now. Some other time,” he says. “Right now, I’m hugging my best friend because he’s a stubborn asshole who can’t admit when he needs it.”
I snort but don’t protest, because he’s right. And he can have this one.
So, we keep holding each other, and I could stay like this forever, and it’s a dangerous thought.
And it’s dangerous how he makes me feel, and how he makes me give myself over to him. I try to keep it in place, to be the one leading, not to cross any of my boundaries but he makes me blind. He makes me push my limits, stretching them until I can hardly see them from where I stand.
And he doesn’t even know it. He’s not doing it on purpose.
He doesn’t have to when I’m letting him by just being him.
When he holds me like this, I feel exposed and sheltered at the same time.
I feel safe with him, even though I shouldn’t be because I think he’s the only one who could finally break me.