Page 30 of Nothing To Lose
By the time my brain comes back online, he’s already walked out of the room.
8
ISAAC
He's going to be the death of me.
I feel myself dying a slow death already, drowning in whatever pheromones Tyler is putting off.
I've opened a floodgate. I didn't mean to go so far, to push him to the edge, and certainly not over it. After everything he said, hearing that he truly sees me as the person I want to be, that I strive for, and not the high school dropout with no future everyone else sees, was the most emotional I've ever felt in front of someone that wasn’t my immediate family. I felt exposed and raw. And then he saidhedidn't feel worthy ofme?Me. I could have argued and told him all the things that made him amazing, that it has nothing to do with his father or the money he was born into. But I could tell he needed more than that. I needed to show him. And I wanted to. I wanted to be the first person to get that part of him.
But once his mouth was on mine, I was a goner. I’d anticipated a sweet, awkward brush of lips. What I got was anything but.
I can't believe he's never done that before. That kiss rocked me to my core. I've never felt anything like it.The deeper the kiss grew, the more I lost myself in it. I could have given up breathing just to keep going. And it wasn't even just a sexual thing, either. I mean, yeah, that was the hottest kiss of my life, hands down. But kissing Tyler felt like more. Like it came from somewhere deeper, somewhere intangible. It stirred something inside me and down below.
I should tell him how close I was to coming in my pants just from some making out. I should tell him so he's not embarrassed about what happened. It's honestly the sexiest thing I've ever experienced in my life. But right now he doesn't need any more ammunition. I'm on the edge of my control, while trying to remain respectful. Not only is he incredibly inexperienced, having not even kissed someone before, but his lack of self-confidence scares me. Especially after what he's been through, I need him to truly understand his worth before he decides to give it all up to a loser like me. I'd take care of him, and I'd be gentle. I'd make sure it's good for him. But I'm not sure I'm worthy of the honor.
I've always been of the opinion that virginity is a bullshit construct, mostly used to control women. It means nothing. Not in the grand scheme of things. Whether or not someone has had sex certainly has no effect on their value.But it's something that he's held onto, something he seems to be ashamed of. It's important because he's built it up to be a milestone. This means something to him, and because of that, it means something to me.
The right way to go about this is to pump the brakes a bit, give him a chance to get the full experience, and build him up on the way. He shouldn't ever be ashamed of his body or his pleasure. I want him to embrace it, to take charge of what he likes and what he doesn't. Maybe owning his sexuality will give him the confidence to take charge of the other aspects of his life where he doesn't feel in control.
He's got a good start, that's for sure.Damn.
It took several push-ups and a cold shower to get my shit together. We spent the rest of the day with him watching me finish the walls in the main room, and eating our brunch leftovers picnic-style. Tomorrow we’ll go pick up paint, and he’s insistent that he wants to help.
Now I'm staring at the bed, waiting for Tyler to finish in the bathroom, wondering how I'm going to manage sleeping next to him without accidentally mauling him in my sleep.
When he comes out of the bathroom, wearing a pair of my boxers and my hoodie, my knees almost buckle. Seeing him in my clothes triggers a part of my lizard brain I've never felt before. It's primal, like I've marked him in some way, claimed ownership by having my scent on him. It's ridiculous, I know, and it's not something I've ever thought or felt before. It should be worrisome, but my inner caveman is too busy preening that he's mine, mine, mine.
I'm in so much trouble.
My one saving grace is witnessing him take one of his pain pills, washing it down with a bottle of water he pulls from the fridge. It makes me smile, because I like seeing him comfortable in my space. But also, there's some relief in knowing he won't be fully able to consent to anything more tonight. He could strip naked and spread himself out for me and I wouldn't do anything about it. I want him fully present, clear headed, and in control of his thoughts and feelings. While loopy Tyler is adorable as all get out, I don't want to take advantage of him that way, even if I believe he wants it. I've only had drunk sex once in my life, and it's a memory I'll never take for granted, a lesson I want no part in teaching another person.
My libido effectively calmed, I'm able to crawl into bed next to him without stabbing him with my stubborn boner. He lies facing me, his minty breath caressing my lips before he presses his mouth to mine. I kiss him back, gently and without any heat. He pouts and nips my bottom lip.
"Behave, kitten," I grumble, pushing him onto his back. I give him one more slow kiss, but then lay back and pull him against my chest.
He tries to protest, but it's interrupted by a yawn. Curling myself around him protectively, maybe even possessively, I listen as his breathing evens out and becomes heavy. It lulls me to sleep, content and grateful that he's here with me. Knowing he's safe settles something in my gut, and I'm more relaxed than I can remember being, maybe ever.
* * *
Buzz.Buzz. Buzz.
The sound of my phone vibrating on the small crate I use as a bedside table coaxes me out of the most restful sleep I've had in weeks. The digital alarm clock says it's after ten in the morning, which is highly unusual for me. It helps that we went to bed in the early hours of the morning, but that doesn't usually keep me from waking up at the crack of dawn. The warmth of Tyler's body against mine, the comfort of holding onto him like a security blanket, is the more likely culprit. He's still asleep on his stomach, with his face in the crook of my arm and half his limbs wrapped around me. I don't want to move for fear of waking him, but when my phone doesn't stop buzzing, I know it's probably my mom calling. I don't want to worry her by not answering, especially since she knows I never sleep this late.
I stretch my arm out, using my fingers to nudge the edge of my phone close enough to reach.
"Hi Mom," I say quietly, my voice hoarse with sleep.
"Are you sick?"
I chuckle at her greeting. "No, I just slept late."
"IsaacWaylon Casey, you haven't slept past seven in the morning since you were in middle school. What's wrong with you?"
"I'm fine, Ma. I was up late. Been busy."
"Apparently. You didn't call this weekend." It's been a longstanding tradition that we do a video call on Sunday afternoons. I've been so wrapped up in Tyler I didn't even realize I'd lost track of the days.
