Page 48 of When I'm Gone

A gasp that sounds more like a wanton moan escapes me as Chase grinds his equally hard dick against mine in theperfect amount of friction. “That’s it, Chaos,” he purrs. “So good for me.”

Staying quiet has never been this much of a fucking challenge. The praise slides over my heated skin like oil, which seems like something to unpack a different time. Chase repeats the motion, aligning our cocks and finding a rhythm that makes my eyes roll back in my head. Without permission, my hips start canting on their own in time with his thrusts, seeking more contact.

Chase’s kisses morph into shared breaths, like he couldn’t dare part with me even while seeking his own pleasure with my body as his instrument. And oh, how he plays it so beautifully. He floods out any lingering negativity with a near constant stream of gravelly praises in my ear. Whether or not he knows it, he’s giving me a gift by taking away my ability to think. And instead of feeling slighted or robbed, I only feel relief. Like I willingly handed it over instead of it being taken from me. Now he’s left me with only sensations—the heat gathering at the base of my spine, the scratch of our jeans that should be too much but somehow isn’t, his voice flowing through me like a river.

My orgasm is racing towards me at alarming speeds. I’m so fucking close, but as badly as I want the release, I also never want this to end. Selfishly, feeling so cherished as this undeniable connection flows so freely between us makes me want to dig my heels into the dirt rather than reach the inevitable end where I’m left cold and used, wishing to be held. But I’m helpless to stop it. Chase’s thrusts become more frantic so he must be as close as me.

When he forces my eyes to his with a thumb and forefinger to my chin, and rasps, “Be a good boy,” and “Come for me,” I’m done. My back bows as white noise fills my ears and hot cum soaks my jeans. Someone is moaning, it’s probably me, all I know is that it goes on and on.

There’s a heavy weight on my chest, and not in the metaphorical sense that I would have thought. Blinking away the euphoric haze, I find Chase’s arm slung across me as he’s somehow wedged himself beside me on the couch with his still very hard dick against my hip.

It’s a bucket of cold water. He didn’t even finish? What even was this to him then? Is he about to laugh at me for coming in my pants like a horny teenager? My breaths come in shallow pants as humiliation takes root in my bones. I’m going to have another fucking panic attack.

No. NO.

I can still save this, I can make him like me again.

He has to like me. I can’t live with myself if he thinks less of me now.

“Hey, hey,” he murmurs as his hand finds my cheekbone and turns my head towards him. “What happened inside that pretty little head of yours just now? One second ago, you were all noodly and happy. Now you look like you’re about to cry.”

I refuse. A few painful inhales to try and compose myself. I need to still be attractive and falling apart is not. If he still thinks I’m hot, maybe he’ll let me suck him off so he won’t hate me.

“You didn’t… I can…”Well, that wasn’t exactly eloquent, you worthless dropout.No fucking wonder he didn’t come.

He hurries to prop himself up on his arm as his thumb starts stroking my cheekbone. “Oh, sweetheart, no. No, no. This was about you. Do you hear me? I wanted to make you feel good, and that’s it.”

Horrifying humiliation is a sharp blade in the hollow of my throat. “I messed up,” I whisper. I’m covered in drying cum, sticky and uncomfortable with my face too hot, spiraling deeper into shame and self-hatred.

“Easton.” Chase’s voice is sharp. The only reason I’m ableto look up is the fear of further disappointing him. His finger runs along the bottom of my abdomen, just above my jeans. When he brings it up to his mouth, it’s shiny, coated in the remains of my release. Chase pops it into his mouth, making my jaw come unhinged and my cheeks hot for an entirely different reason. He gives it a good suck before pulling it out and leveling me with a glare. “You trusted me to help you sort through things, correct?”

Suddenly, this feels like getting called on in class when the teacher saw you weren’t paying attention. “Yes.”

“You trustedme not to hurt you, correct?”

“Yes.”

The approval in his eyes does something awful to my heart. “Good. Then hear me when I say this. This wasn’t about me. I wanted to get you off, make you feel good. There’s no ulterior motive, nothing I wanted to gain from this than getting to watch you come undone. Sex is not transactional. You don’t owe me anything, there’s nothing to make up for. Making you come was better than I hoped it would be. Now, go wash up. I’m sure you’re fairly uncomfortable. I’ll be right behind you. Okay?”

My response is automatic, even if I’m still processing most of that. “Okay.”

Chase nods in approval. “Good boy.”

My dick twitches in an attempt to rally, but he's right; I’m sticky and gross so I pad my way through the house without another word.

I took a chance and used Chase’s shower, not sure where he wants me or what’s too private, but it’s nice as fuck in here. It’s a separate shower with black marble tile, gold shower heads and the kind of water pressure that makes your eyes roll back. But high end fixtures didn’t impress meanymore, I knew all too well that they didn’t equate to having a good life. The best part to me was the little thrill I got from using his soaps and smelling like him, but that only lasted as long as it took me to get out of the shower, only to find a towel still warm from the dryer and a pile of his clothes that weren’t there when I got in.

How do people like him even exist? I intend to ask him, but when I waltz out of the bathroom, I find him leaning against the headboard, biceps bulging where his hand is cushioning the back of his head, and my mouth dries up on the spot. Only to be made worse when he catches sight of me and his eyes darken dangerously.

“Come here,” he demands softly. Filthy thoughts are running rampant in my brain. Maybe I don’t have to get him off necessarily, but I sure as shit wouldn’t mind the opportunity.

I’m mentally flipping through all the options as I crawl into my place beside him, but he only chuckles. “I can hear you thinking all the way over here and it’s not happening tonight, sweetheart. I said tonight is about you, and I meant it. Now for the important question,Bruce AlmightyorAce Ventura: Pet Detective?”

He’s got both pulled up on the TV mounted above his dresser. The choice is easy to me. “Bruce Almighty.”

Chase presses a soft kiss to my head. “Good pick.”

Now, all there’s left to do is eat the popcorn he brought for us to snack on while wondering if he knew this is my favorite movie, and settle in for the perfect night.

---