Page 52 of Sebastian

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

SEBASTIAN

Reality comes back to me slowly. Or maybe I’m the one coming back to reality. Either way, Christian and I lie there for a long time, all wrapped up in each other. He slips out of me, leaving me open, wet, and empty. My cum is drying between our bodies. When I finally open my eyes, Christian is watching me.

“Hey,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

“Hey,” I whisper back.

I feel different. Like I’m not quite myself. It feels like the ground has shifted under my feet and what I thought was up isn’t up anymore. I’m strangely okay with it, with this new orientation of my world. The fact that I’m okay with it, though, that’s what kind of freaks me out.

Something happened between us during that scene. Can we even call it a scene? I forgot about the cameras the second I climbed onto the bed. I forgot about angles and framing and making sure there’d be enough footage for a full-length video. It was all Christian—his mouth, his hands, his cock. Him above me, around me, and inside of me. He filled me up in all the ways I can be filled and now my heart is overflowing with him.

Christian rolls off to the side and I reluctantly let him go. I shiver—from the rush of cold air over my skin, but also because I’m kind of in shock. The intensity of what we did is wearing off now, leaving me weak and shaken and off-kilter. My head spins when I sit up, my stomach feels like I’ve just stepped off a rollercoaster. I move slowly as I check the cameras and shut them down.

Then Christian puts his arm around my waist and takes me back to the shower. He cranks the water all the way to hot this time and steam quickly fills the room. We don’t speak as he rubs soap into my skin.

My head falls back onto his shoulder and he presses a kiss to my neck as his hands roam my front.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

“For what?”

“This doesn’t smell like vanilla.”

It takes several moments for me to figure out what he’s talking about. “Oh, my body wash?”

“Hmm.” He’s gentle as he soaps around my cock, my balls, and back to my taint. “I love the way you smell. Like chocolate chip cookies.”

I laugh and it almost sounds hysterical with glee.

He sets me away from him to soap my back. When he gets down to my ass, he takes his time pulling my cheeks apart and covering every inch of my crack, dipping into my loose hole. I push out for him and he growls before sinking his teeth into the fleshy part of my butt.

I’m covered in Christian’s marks. Hickeys and beard burn dot the front of my body. I can only imagine what my back looks like. I trace them, lingering on each one before moving to the next. It makes me giggle, seeing the evidence of Christian on my body. It feels kinda like he’s marking his territory, and I’m undoubtedly his.

Pure delight wells up in me, threatening to overwhelm me. Who would have ever guessed that my teenage idol would turn out to be so kind and caring and supportive? Who would have ever thought that my teenage fantasies would one day come true?

Christian finishes with my legs and I turn into his arms.

“Hey,” I say.

His eyes are dark and his hands grip me tight. “Hey.”

I kiss him, a hard press of my lips to his. Holy hell—I love him. If this burst of happiness, this explosion of joy isn’t love, then I don’t know what is. I love him so much, it hurts. It feels like my heart is trying to claw its way out of my body so it can go live inside his. Like my lungs would rather feed him oxygen than save any for myself.

Christian takes one of his deep breaths that expands his chest and makes me all swoony. I try to breathe too, to create some more space inside me, but every inch I stretch gets filled with love for him, leaving me stuffed and brimming.

I take the soap from Christian and he stands still as I return the favor of soaping him up. The round bulges of his biceps, the smooth curves of his chest. The hills and valleys of his abs. His thighs are thick and ropy with muscle. His calves fill my entire hand.

His ass is a masterpiece—round and hard, with matching dips on either side. The small of his back is a perfectly narrow slope. His back—Christ, his back. There are no words for how gorgeous those miles of skin are.

I draw my fingers down each of his arms, following the lines of his tattoos. And when I’m done, he takes my hands and weaves our fingers together so we’re palm to palm.

Christian might never feel the same way about me, he might never be able to return my love. But that’s okay. It almost feels like too much to ask, really. He’s already here, working with me, spending time with me. If friendship is all I ever get, then I’ll satisfy myself with that.

We order room service for dinner and eat it on the couch wearing nothing but our underwear. The lights of the city blink below us and the sound of the TV is turned down low.

We don’t talk much. There’s no need to. We’ve spent weeks and weeks talking and now we can sit and soak in each other’s presence. It’s lovely. It feels like we’re in a bubble, separated from the world. Everyone else might rush on with their lives, but here, time is on pause.

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