Page 43 of Reading Between the Lines
The bear in his chest rumbled as we kissed more.
I rocked our hard lengths together, igniting a fire. Nothing was about to happen with the limited space of the tub, but that wasn’t the point. The point was Diem learning to be comfortable sharing space. Touching.
He glided his hands to my ass. At first tentative, then with more assuredness, he squeezed each globe in his monstrous hands, drawing me against him. We rutted, throwing more kindling on a fire quickly getting out of control.
Diem grunted a strangled noise of pleasure. Our teeth clacked, and the kiss became bruising as he forgot to be gentle, and his yearning took over.
Yes,thiswas what I wanted. Diem lost in pleasure. Diem out of control with want and desire.
I had a feeling that the day Diem’s wall fully crumbled, when he felt safe enough to be himself, the man would utterly destroy me heart and soul, and I couldn’t fucking wait.
Water sloshed and spilled over the lip of the tub as Diem wedged a hand between our bodies and took us together.
“Fuck, D. You have no idea how turned on you make me when you take control.” I knotted my fingers in the bit of hair he’d grown and attacked his mouth with brutality. Coming up for air, panting, I added, “But we have to get out… I can’t… There’s not enough room. Don’t you want to be in my ass?”
He growled in response, furiously nodding.
The only towel within reach was the one on the floor, soaking up the puddle we’d made. I dripped into the bedroom to snag a few from the pile I’d noticed earlier—pink and frilly but soft and big enough to cover Diem’s body.
We dried hastily, and I kept one eye on the big guy, certain his bravado would vanish by the time we relocated and hating that we’d had to transition at all.
I encouraged him into the room and onto the bed before finding supplies in my backpack. Diem wasn’t an initiator or an experimenter. Maybe down the line, but we were a long way off. Sex in a bed was new. Since we started dating, it was a thing I insisted upon. Certain unspoken rules applied. Themajor rule being we always fucked face-to-face. None of the cold, dissociated sex we’d had in the beginning. I wanted him present.
It wasn’t that I was against quick fucks in random locations around the house, and I wasn’t opposed to being railed from behind. In fact, I quite enjoyed it occasionally, but the goal with Diem had been affection and intimacy.
He lay in the center of the mattress, naked body on display. In the beginning, Diem’s self-consciousness over his scars and tattoos meant he went out of his way to stay partly dressed during sex. Once he understood that I would never push to hear the stories behind either, he relaxed.
When Diem was ready to share, I would listen. Slowly, he shone a light on his tragic past.
The lion and the compass inked on his thighs represented something personal to Diem. Under those particular tattoos lived scars of a different variety. Ones made with a careful hand and a sharp blade. I’d surmised their raison d’être long ago—a broken child had become a trouble, self-injurious teen with no other means of purging the anger that grew insidiously in his core.
I crawled over him, kissing the lion and compass on my journey to his mouth. Bracing a hand on either side of his head, I peered down at the tormented man who had captivated me some months ago. My cuddle bear. I wanted to shelter him with my body. I wanted Diem to know he was safe.
“Hey, Guns.” I playfully smirked. “You’re all flush and warm now. How’d you enjoy your first bath with your boyfriend?”
“It was wet.” His voice croaked, and he swallowed before clearing his throat.
I chuckled. “That’s all? Wet?”
He licked his lips, gaze flicking over my nakedness. “It was… really fucking erotic.”
“It was.” I dragged my erection over his. “Wanna fuck me?”
He couldn’t have nodded faster.
I kissed him, giving him time to find his feet and regain his courage. Without having to be told, Diem brought his hands to my waist and drew me down until we lay flush together. We spent a long time lip-locked, tongues dueling for control, lower bodies rutting lazily.
Diem struggled to express his emotions on a good day, but I knew he enjoyed this lazy kissing, the weight of me. So I let him absorb.
Process.
When our breathing turned ragged, and lust bloomed, I whispered against his mouth, “Prep me.”
Diem found the lube and complied.
I groaned at the intrusion of his fingers, panting against his mouth. Diem loved it when I got vocal. It seemed to send a thrill through him, and he forgot to worry.
He took his time, ensuring I was good and ready. Considering the man was hung like a fucking horse, I didn’t complain about the foreplay. It was that or I’d be walking funny by morning.
