Page 46 of The One Decent Thing

He fumbled a condom over his cock, wincing as he snapped it at the base. More lube went on top, without my having to tell him, and then he leaned down and lined up, the head pressing against my ass. Aidan’s face filled my whole world right then, with his wide eyes, all pupil with the tiniest ring of gold, and parted red lips, and the flush on his cheekbones. He wasn’t beautiful, exactly, not with the hard angles of his jaw and chin. But he was beautiful to me.

Slowly, he started to push. I grappled for his shoulders and hung on, bending my knees and pushing back to let him in. He filled me, and filled me, until I was digging my fingers in so hard he’d have bruises. Aidan didn’t seem to notice. He gazed down at me with something like awe on his face.

“Sebastian,” he whispered, and thrust, hard. It shoved me up the bed, my head almost hitting the headboard.

He thrust again, and again, so deep I almost couldn’t breathe, and then he shuddered, his orgasm hitting him hard.

His head hung down between those huge sweat-sheened shoulders. Aftershocks left him trembling, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and petted his nape, letting my head relax back against the pillow. Contentment like I’d never known enveloped me like a down comforter.

Aidan lifted his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll — try to do better next time. You felt so good I couldn’t…”

It took me a second to identify the swell of emotion those words brought on: tenderness, mixed with a little bit of shame-inducing relief. Last night I’d been a pathetic, needy mess, depending on Aidan to take care of me. But right now, he was the one who craved reassurance. Strong, stoic Aidan, always protecting me, neededmeright now. It was heady. Humbling, too. But I loved the way it felt.

I tugged him down and lifted my head enough to kiss him softly, just a press of the lips. “You’re amazing. Maybe — maybe we could both use the practice.”

We gazed at each other, both smiling that secret smile that people get when they can’t believe how happy they are. The air around us felt heavy and slow, like the moment before a first kiss. Aidan leaned down and kissed me again. Our lips caught and held.

Aidan sighed, and wrapped me in his arms, and we lay there quietly, with nothing else to say. We were both sticky and gross, and he needed to get rid of the condom, and I was so thirsty I couldn’t even lick my lips.

It was absolutely imperfectly perfect, and we didn’t move for a long time.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Aidan

Sebastian was right: we did improve with practice.

Lots of practice. When I asked Sebastian if he was going to wear out, he just laughed and wiggled his ass at me, and I took that as a no — but by Tuesday afternoon I was starting to wonder if he’d be able to sit down in class the next day.

“I was fine in class earlier,” he purred in my ear, feeling me up for what felt like the hundredth time that day — not that I was complaining. I was sprawled on the couch, and Sebastian had climbed on, straddled my lap, and stuck a hand down the front of my boxers. My hands were on his ass, because, well, because it was there, and it was the roundest, bounciest ass I’d ever been lucky enough to squeeze. “I can go again.” He nibbled my earlobe, and I shivered and gave his left cheek a smack. He let out a filthy moan. “If you keep doing that I’ll want to go again twice.”

“Oh my God,” I groaned as he started to press his ass down onto my lap, moving his hips in little circles that would’ve made any stripper proud. I couldn’t possibly get hard again. Shouldn’t Sebastian know it was against the laws of physics to fuck this many times in two days? Newton had to have a law about it. He had so many fucking laws about objects bumping into each other, surely he’d covered this category at some point. “You’re going to kill me.”

“You love it,” Sebastian said, and then his motion abruptly stopped and his breath stuttered against my neck.

And there it was. It’d taken longer than I expected for Sebastian to snap out of whatever hormone-haze he’d been floating in for the past thirty hours and get self-conscious about it all. He’d been right about practice, but I’d been right about thinking there was a lot more under Sebastian’s shy, anxiety-ridden surface than he showed most of the time.

That morning he’d come back from the shower naked and demanded that I fuck him from behind before he went to class, getting on his hands and knees and peering over his slim shoulder at me with a mischievous look in his blue eyes that would’ve tempted the straightest man in the world. Since I was far from the straightest man in the world, it turned out, I’d pounded him into the mattress and made him beg. And as soon as he came home from class…

Okay, yes. I could get hard again. First things first, though. He had to be told how amazing he was. I slid my hands up to his waist and pulled him in as close as I could get him. “Yeah, you’re right,” I said, nuzzling into his neck. “I really, really love it.” I almost said something else, something similar but infinitely different, but I couldn’t. Not yet.

I nudged my own hips upward, and with a breathy little moan that made me even harder, he started to move again.

I’d just worked one hand down the back of his pajama pants when the rumble of a car engine came from the front, and then the squeak of poorly maintained brakes. The engine shut off, and a car door opened.

“Dammit,” Sebastian whined, thumping his forehead against my shoulder. “Chris knows better than to show up! I called him!”

But I knew it wasn’t Chris, even though Sebastian’s assumption was a good one, since no one else ever came over. The hair on the nape of my neck rose, some lizard-brain response that didn’t yet have a conscious cause. And then I got my reason: two sets of heavy footsteps, and the unmistakable crackle of a police radio.

“Sebastian, that’s the cops,” I choked out.

He popped bolt upright and stared at me. “What the hell?”

Oh God, I’d forgotten. I’d fucking forgotten, and I hadn’t tried very hard to remember, either. “Chris told me,” I whispered as quickly as I could. “Brody said he was going to call your parents. Chris was afraid they might cause some trouble —”

“What?” Sebastian demanded — loudly.

“Quiet down, Jesus, if they hear yelling who knows what the fuck they’ll do!”

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