Page 36 of The Forbidden Summer
His question hangs in the balance, unfinished. But I already know whathe’s asking for.
“One step at a time, Van.” He tucks his face into my neck and breathes in my scent. The gesture wraps around my heart and squeezes like a fist. “This is a lot for me. For both of us. Let’s just take things slow.”
“So, no…”
His words sound muffled against my skin, and I swallow back laughter. “No, not today.”
Van peeks up at me, looking hopeful. Pleading. “Can I have your fingers, Cap?”
Jesus, Lord. This boy, with his innocence and appeal. I can’t help myself. I reach for his dick, hard beneath his briefs, and rub my palm over his length, ignoring the wet spot staining the cotton. I’m beginning to think my boy is a leaker, which makes my balls shrivel up tight just thinking of it.
Merdé, could he be any more perfect?
Van shimmies his slim hips, humping my hand. His eyes look glassy with lust, his breath coming faster, more shallow as he gets worked up. I press my lips to his chest, brushing them across his soft skin, feeling the heavy thump of his heart beneath my mouth. With a deep inhale of his fresh, clean scent, I pepper him with kisses, some light, others open-mouthed and wet.
I wish I could devour him whole.
Taste every part of him.
Worship him like he deserves.
Someday, maybe. But for today, baby steps.
Van isn’t taking baby steps. He tugs his briefs down his hips, exposing his dick. His plump, smooth balls lie tight against his body.
If I don’t put my mouth on them, I’ll die.
Van grabs my hand and places it on his shaft, moving us upand down to the rhythm he likes best. His eyes lock with mine, and together, he climbs to the edge of nirvana.
His mouth finds mine like it’s something he's been craving for ages—hungry, aching, sure. The moment our lips touch, the air charges. His hands slide to my waist, fingers curling in, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us. My breath catches as he deepens the kiss, his mouth hot and demanding, tasting like heat and recklessness. Every movement is deliberate, teasing, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. My skin buzzes, and I melt into him, lost in the slow burn of it all.
“Your fingers,” he whispers, voice hushed and warm, like a secret meant just for me.
I gather my courage and swipe my thumb over his slit, collecting a bead of his precum, and bring it to his mouth. “Suck,” I tell him, slipping my thumb between his soft lips.
The sight of him, lust-drunk and swollen-lipped, sucking on my thumb like it’s the head of my cock, makes mine kick. Van feels it too, his bright eyes growing rounder.
“Can I touch you?” he asks sweetly. Hesitantly.
“Let me touch you,” I offer instead.
Sliding my thumb from his mouth, I slide it between his cheeks. Van pulls his legs up, knees almost touching his chest as I sit back. The view of his spread legs, of his smooth taint and tight pink hole, almost makes me come undone.
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine someone so beautiful and perfect would give themself to me like this. So completely, so trusting.
My thumb brushes over his hole, testing his resistance.
Has Van ever had anyone or anything inside of him?
God, I hope not. Please, let me be the first. Let this be something that’s just ours.
I swipe over his pucker again, and he clenches tightly. “Van? Have you…”
He reads the words I’ve left unspoken. “No, Père. Just you.”
His eyes meet mine, wide and vulnerable, like he’s laid his whole heart bare in those four quiet words. There’s something fragile in the way he looks at me, like he’s hoping I’ll hold it gently—him gently—and suddenly it’s hard to breathe.
My thumb presses against his hole and Van pushes out, allowing me to slip inside. The heat, my God, the heat. His lips part on a breathy sigh, and he continues to hold my gaze as if I’m the only thing tethering him to this moment.
