Page 52 of For Real

And I want this. With him.

It’s not…it’s not how I expect it to be. Even though we’ve fucked six ways to Sunday the past few weeks, I’m suddenly kind of shy again. Like I haven’t been since the first time, upended and upside down on this very bed.

It’s just this is a proper first time. Nobody has ever been with me like this. Touched me like this. With nothing between us.

It makes me trembly and self-conscious and thrilled. Even though we’re back on that slight edge of awkward and Laurie ends up using nearly a gallon of lube because it’s like my arse has turned into Sleeping Beauty’s castle and grown briars.

This is the reality of skin: rougher than you’d think.

But, oh God. Oh God.

I love that extra friction, that edge of pain, the stretch and drag and burn, because it’s the way Laurie feels. It’s the way Laurie feels as he eases into my body.

It’s not so very different in the physical sense. But it is different. It’s totally different. I’m sure it must be all in my head, but I’m so kind of…shocked by it…and all I can think as I lie there, like a concussed rabbit, watching Laurie through the V of my own legs is that…he’s in me. This stranger who I’m probably in love with is in me.

I know the sort of stuff that gets said about boys who like to take it up the arse. I know what it’s supposed to mean.

Except it isn’t anything like that.

I’m greedy and powerful and closer to Laurie than I could have imagined it was possible to be. Literally joined, our bodies fitted together, and all their secrets bared without barrier.

It makes me fly.

Because this is how it’s supposed to be. When you strip away the dogma and the politics and the blah blah blah.

This is what sex is. This is what love is. And this is what we are. Laurie and me. Together. Touched and touching. As deep as two people can go.

He’s looking down, watching the place where we meet, watching me take him in, and for a while we’re both staring at the way our bodies fit—me wrapped around him, him pressing into me, inch by inch by inch. But then I tell him to look at me instead. And when he does, even in the gloom, I can see the fear in him. The fear and the wanting. Exposed to me, given to me, like when I put the tie over his eyes.

I beckon him, and he covers me.

Kisses me. Clumsy-rough, moaning into my mouth. And I sing right back. Same song.

We’re both just so naked.

And when I’m ready, I tell him, “Okay, now,” and he draws back again and fucks me the way he knows I love to be fucked. His hands tight and strong and hot on my ankles, holding me spread wide for all the goddamn glorious pleasure his gorgeous cock can thrust into me. It’s even better now. Raw and beautiful and nothing held back. All skin. Just us.

I lie there, his wanton prince, and let him serve me.

He’s perfect like this: all strain and shadows and sweat-gleam. Harsh breath and agonised self-control. A wild stallion of a man who tames himself for me. And that’s when I come, hot jerky jets all over my chest and stomach, like my cock is surprised.

I’m almost disappointed.

Not because it wasn’t good, but because it’s all so good. And I don’t want it to stop. I don’t want to lose this heat and this fullness and this closeness.

I don’t want to lose Laurie.

“God. Toby. Oh Toby.”

He leans over me, and for a moment, I think he’s come too, but then his mouth is on me. I feel the fluttering warmth of his breath against my chest and then the soft strokes of his tongue as he licks up everything I’ve spilled. I’m so sensitive right now it’s almost tickly, but I like it. And especially like having his still-hard cock nestled inside me while he does it. Knowing he’s desperate for me.

I think about playing with him. Pretending I’m not going to let him come, to make him beg. We’d both totally get off on that.

But not this time.

No games just now.

“Laurie.” I stroke his hair. “Come for me.”

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