Page 30 of The Naked Cleaner

Blackout.

Tiny stars twinkling somewhere in the little space inside my head.

I come like a fucking freight train. I just come and come and come. Spurts of something hitting the condom inside of him and I can’t even tell what’s up and what’s down.

His hand has somehow found his own cock and he is tugging erratically at himself, his eyes squinted shut and his face frozen in a grimace as his breath stutters. He’s close. He’s fucking almost there and I egg him on. Whisper that he’s gorgeous and he’s mine, and please come for me and I love that you are here and I…

I love him.

How stupid is that? But he comes right there and then, and roars into my cheek as my limp cock slides out of him and immediately starts getting hard again.

Go figure. He’s like a fucking sex god lying here in this damn bed, which is full of lube and sweat and come and...

Me.

Him and me.

And I get stabbed by the damn prostate massager that is underneath me, as I burst into giggles.

“Forgot to use this.” I say. Like a stupid person.

But he just smiles and reaches for me and pulls me down on top of him again until we are lying there in the most disgusting tangled heap of human limbs smelling of sex.

“Was it okay?” He asks. Like he even has to ask when I can’t stop smiling.

“You were amazing. Better than amazing. Do you want to fuck me next?”

He laughs. Laughs and laughs and my stomach flutters.

“I need to sleep this one off first.” He smiles and then he looks all shy again. Like he has said something wrong.

“Did you like it? Bottoming?” I have to ask. I need feedback. I need to make it better for him next time, because bottoming is like awesome when someone knows what they are doing.

“It was good, because it was you. I trust you. You didn’t hurt me.”

“It’s not supposed to hurt. Sex should never hurt. Unless you are into whips and chains and flogging, and apparently it can be a real high but… No. Not for me.” I stop talking and wriggle around until I have him right where I need him. Me on top of him, and his face in my hands as I clumsily hold myself up on my elbows. “I will never hurt you. Please don’t hurt me.”

“I’m an arsehole at times, and I get scared, and I say stupid shit, Louis. But I will try.” He goes quiet again.

“Are you sore?” Please don’t be sore. I know I was rough, but I used lots of lube.

“I need to clean up… I think. Brush my teeth.”

“Drink some water.”

“Yeah.” He laughs. We’re good.

We have a shower and I blow his mind. It’s just a blowjob, but he comes in my mouth and I fucking love it. Then I make us toasties and we watch the rest of the third season of that show, all tangled up in each other.

It’s almost two o’clock when we stumble into bed. He snores into my shoulder. Sniffles in his sleep. Wriggles like a three-year-old, yet I struggle to fall asleep.

I don’t know what to do with myself, because I have so many things I want to do.

I want to stay right here forever.

I want to get a job, buy a big house. Get a dog. Marry Pontus.

I have too much shit in my head, and a house full of butterflies in my stomach.

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