Epilogue

Leg bouncing, Finn chews his thumbnail, sitting on my living room couch. His eyes dart from one area to the next, taking in all his surroundings. It's been three months since we made our relationship official. Three months of weekend visits to his cabin, plus a few here or there during the week when I couldn't stay away for more than a day or two.

We've spent those three months getting to know one another on a deeper level, and I don't mean in the biblical sense. In the romantic, partner, entanglement, long-term way. Walls Finn didn't even know he had, have started to come down.

We started our assent into the real world, off the top of his mountain, slowly.

A drive down the mountain in my Jeep.

A middle-of-nowhere gas station trip for snacks. Followed by a hot-and-heavy make-out session in the backseat, ya know, as a reward.

A drive-thru for burgers and fries.

A picnic in a vacant park.

Last weekend, we shopped in an actual store for groceries. It was a big step for him, and I couldn't have been prouder. I showed him as much when we got home and ravished him for hours.

Knowing my proximity usually helps when Finn's out of his element, I lower onto the cushion beside him. But I don't dare touch him. That's his move. He must take the extra step to connect us. A breath is all it takes for him to lean into me, his head on my shoulder, a shaky hand on my knee. I lace my fingers through his and give him all the time in the world he needs to acclimate. He wanted to visit my apartment this weekend. It was his idea, not mine. I haven't pushed. Not more than I thought he could take. Baby steps. This goes beyond that. Then again, maybe it's not as difficult for him as I anticipated since I've shown him my apartment during our frequent FaceTime conversations. The drawers, to leave his clothes whenever he was ready to visit. The space in the closet with empty hangers. His new, never-touched pillow on his side of our bed. The soap I bought that matched his from the cabin. Everything I could think of to make him feel right at home, including pictures of us on the wall, the end table, and the nightstand beside the bed. It not only made me miss him less when we have spent more time apart than together, but it also gave me something to do.

Finn sighs. "I love the way this place smells."

My heart swells with pride. "What does it smell like, sweetheart?"

"You."

Fuck.

A lump forms in my throat at the raw honesty in his voice. I kiss the top of his hair, unsure how to respond, so I don't. I twist just enough to hook Finn's chin with my finger and bring his eyes up to meet mine. They widen as his lips part as if he knows exactly what I'm gonna do. And he'd be right. I take that mouth and kiss him, deep and endless, until he's shaking with need. Only then do I push him back into the couch, kneel between his legs on the floor, and tear his pants down his legs—pants neither of us want him in. I fling them to the side, along with his socks and shoes.

A perfect, weeping cock stands at attention as Finn pants for air.

Knowing what I want, I engulf his rod, swallowing it whole.

"Beck!" Finn scrambles to grab something to keep him grounded, anything. He grips fistfuls of my hair. I growl around his prick, and he shudders.

Even though he can't come from this alone, it doesn't stop me from tasting him, sucking his hardness down, loving the stretch of my lips around his cock as it throbs in time with his manic heartbeat. It's a miracle I kept my hands off him long enough to drive here today. Consider this my reward. Not that I need one. That's not what this is about.

I need to take his mind off the discomfort.

I need him to settle into our city home.

Massaging his balls, I suck him up and down, slowly, torturously.

Finn yanks my hair. "Beck."

Lips around the crown of his member, I look up at him.

"Can… can I suck you?" he asks.

My surprise must flash across my face when he smiles in that shy, adorable way that's all Finn. He grabs the base of his cock and pulls himself from my mouth to trace the slit across the bow of my lips. I lick the underside of his cockhead, giving him full access to whatever he wants to do with that thing.

"I've been thinking about it. I want to try," he explains.

"You really wanna suck my cock?"

A small nod, staring straight into my eyes and beyond. The air crackles around us as I help him from the couch and escort him into our bedroom. He doesn't bother checking his surroundings when he follows me to the bed, where I undress and he removes his shirt. In the center of our mattress, I lie on my back and spread my legs for him to settle between.

Finn climbs on and does just that.

Having touched me many times before, Finn's warm, sure fingers wrap around my steel. He gives it a few lazy pumps, watching the head disappear and reappear through my foreskin before he pulls the skin taut, exposing the swollen head. It leaks precum, and he leans over to lick it up. A simple swipe of his tongue has my hands fisting the sheets and my teeth gritting in pleasure.

"Sweetheart," I grate, going out of my mind.

Finn savors the flavor, eyes closed, moaning as if it's the finest goddamn wine. I've never seen someone so fucking beautiful in all my life.

It takes everything in me not to grab him by the hair and gently face fuck him. Watch his lips split around my cock. What a sight that would be.

Again, Finn leans forward, and this time he hollows out his cheeks and invites me in. The wet warmth has my thighs tightening. My asshole clenches. What does my man do? He explores with that naughty tongue. Around and around, he teases my tip, sucks it, hums around it, and strokes the shaft. I writhe in pleasure, trying damn hard not to move, to spook him.

Finn's eyes slide shut on a guttural moan as he gets into the feel, the power. This is why I don't normally like blow jobs, to be at the mercy of someone else, to trust them with your most precious organ, to give them free rein. With Finn, I want it. I want him to experience the power, the pleasure, the feel of another cock—a first for him. He does it beautifully. Sucking both gently, then firm. Not wanting to neglect my balls, he massages them as I do his.

"You're doing so well, baby," I praise through clenched teeth, my jaw aching. Blowing out a harsh breath, I slam my eyes shut and will my dick to last a little longer. Not to release just yet. My neck elongates as he hums around my shaft, sending sparks of pleasure into my balls and down through my prostate. That serpentine tongue ruins me as it licks from the base of my cock to the tip, where he suckles me like a goddamn lollipop.

"Finn. Fuck."

Overcome with lust, he moans.

"Do you wanna fuck me?" I blurt out of nowhere, more than happy to take him to the hilt. Even if I don't prefer to bottom, I'll give him that.

My handsome man blinks up at me in surprise, lips stalling around my tip.

"You can fuck me," I offer again.

Pink rising to his cheeks, Finn's head shakes.

"You're sure?"

A simple nod is all he offers as he pops his mouth free to speak. "I don't want that. But I do want you to fuck me."

"You always want that," I note on a chuckle.

"I know." The blush creeps down his face to the top of his chest.

"Which is why I wanted to offer. You can fuck me anytime you want. All you have to do is ask."

"Unless you need that, then I don't think I need it. I just need… this. I love this. Right here." Tracing his tongue around my cock slit, Finn resumes his sucking. Before long, I can't take the teasing anymore. I grab him by the hair and pull him up my body. Taking silent instructions like a pro, Finn straddles my hips and lowers his hole onto my spit-soaked rod.

Swollen lips and hooded lids stare down at me as large hands press into my pecs to fuck me the only way he knows how. Using me as he sees fit. Taking me hard.

It doesn't take long for cum to fly from Finn's member, painting my stomach. I'm right there with him a moment later, filling him up.

Finn collapses on top of me, my cock still buried in his ass. His still throbs between us. I stroke a hand down his sweaty back and kiss the side of his head. "Your lips are magic."

He snorts. "I'm gonna suck your cock every day."

"Then do it. I wasn't sure if you'd even like it." Trailing fingers lower, I slip between Finn's cheeks and slip three into his supple hole.

Sucking on my shoulder, Finn groans long and sensually. His shaft bucks against my belly as I finger his ass just how he likes. "I-I…" He clears his throat. "Don't think there's anything with you I wouldn't like."

Same.

Though, I don't tell him that.

Just as I haven't told Finn, I quit my job as a helper. He hasn't asked if I was gonna quit. Like he didn't want to take something so important away from me if I needed it—to help others. As much as I love it, I love him more. The thought of touching another man when I would hate if he did seems hypocritical. So, I've found a replacement to take over my clients—a friend of Walter's.

Doing what I do best, I take care of mine and give Finn a second orgasm before we finally crawl out of bed, wash in our shower, and redress just in time to have dinner at the restaurant I booked for the evening—with the request of a private table, to keep his anxiety down to a minimum.

Hand in hand, I escort my man down the steps of my apartment and down the street. He soaks up everything as we stroll—the dogs, the humans, the cars, the smells, and the sounds. I wonder how long it's been since he's set foot in a city this large. Perhaps never.

When a group of people approach, I pull Finn in front of me, wrap my arms around his middle, and keep us moving. He looks amazing tonight—blond hair tied up in a messy man bun, jeans, and a tight blue t-shirt. Simple yet sexy. Then again, anything he wears or doesn't wear is mouthwatering.

Stopping halfway to the restaurant, I pull Finn to the side into a discrete alley. His back rests against the brick wall as I assess him from head to toe. "How are you doing?"

"Better when you're touching me."

Stepping forward, I drag my palm down the center of his chest to his package, where I squeeze it over the front of his jeans. "This kind of touching?"

Finn's head tilts back, resting against the wall, and his eyes slide closed. "Always that kind of touching."

"Does it help with the anxiety?"

"Yes."

Fitting my front to his, I suck a welt into the side of Finn's delicious neck as I stroke him firmly over the front of his jeans. A stain forms through the denim, and I keep going until he's left gasping, pawing at my shoulders.

Only then do I pull away, grab his hand, and navigate our way to the dimly lit Italian restaurant three blocks down.

Deprived of release, Finn scowls at me the entire walk, burning a hole through the side of my skull. At least he doesn't have time to focus on the people or anything else. By the time the hostess seats us in the back, in an alcove by a tinted window, Finn finally quits scowling and blinks as if just now realizing where we are.

"You… You did that on purpose," he accuses.

I flash a knowing smile and wink. "Yes, and it worked."

Head shaking as if he doesn't know what to do with me, Finn slides closer in the booth, our legs touching. Far braver than I expect, he grips me over my own jeans. I gasp at the firmness of his touch, at the brand of ownership. Finn leans in and nips the side of my throat, shocking the hell out of me.

"Baby." I rub his palm up and down my aching member.

He purrs in my ear, nuzzling his nose there.

Fuck.

Our waiter arrives, takes one look at Finn, and gapes.

I know.

He's gorgeous.

It takes a full minute of standing there before Finn realizes we have a guest, and he pulls back. I expect him to apologize. Finn simply smiles at the man. The young waiter's eyes widen further.

"Ca-can I get you anything to drink?" he sputters.

Finn looks to me for an answer.

"Do you have a wine list?"

The waiter slides the folder across the black table to us.

Beside me, Finn brazenly strokes my cock as we attempt to read through the wine options.

"This." I point to a sweeter white.

Finn hums his approval and offers a slight nod.

The waiter scampers off. When I know he's out of earshot, I turn to my very surprising, very naughty partner. "What do you think you're doing, sweetheart?"

"I'm trying something."

"And what's that?"

"The more I touch you. The less… ya know… happens."

"You're calmer?"

"Yes. I don't feel anything but the need to touch you right now."

"If I come, are you gonna clean up the mess with your mouth?"

Finn's cheeks turn molten. His lips part. A gasp escapes. "You'd want me to do that here?"

"If you make me come, yes. I want you to clean up the mess with your mouth. You make a mess. You clean up the mess, Finn."

Finn shifts beside me as if he doesn't know if he loves or hates the idea.

Mind made up, the hand at my crotch squeezes.

Game on.

We order, and we eat.

Our conversation flows as freely as it always does.

Finn talks of his newest book—the Elf series. I've been listening to the audio in my Jeep between work clients, when I'm at the gym on my lunch breaks, or when I drive to visit him. I've almost gotten through the entire catalog.

All the while, Finn drives me mad, stroking me—a slow torture.

Dessert arrives—a decadent slice of chocolate cake. Three layers, and in between those layers are shavings of chocolate and the thickest frosting.

Finn licks his lips at the hardy piece. I fork a bite and place it to his lips. Those eyes smolder as he slowly opens his mouth, slides tang inside, and savors the bite. A sensual moan rolls up his throat. I feed him a second bite, then set down the fork, unbutton my pants and pop my painfully hard dick out from the confines of my pants. Finn doesn't hesitate to wrap around my shaft, stroking, stroking, stroking, as I resume feeding him bite after bite of chocolate cake. His little moans of pleasure spur me closer to completion.

The waiter returns with the check.

Finn doesn't stop stroking.

"I'll take this whenever you're ready," he says, resting it on the edge of the table.

Meeting his eyes, I nod, doing my damn best to not give away what we're up to. He leaves, and I'm right there.

Throwing my napkin on the seat, I grip the back of Finn's head and announce, "Can you get that for me, sweetheart?"

A husky whine leeches out of him as he nods once and folds over long enough to remove his hand, swallow the head of my dick, and catch my cum. Snapping my hips up, I fuck into Finn's wet mouth, gritting my teeth as I ride out my climax, damn near breaking a tooth, trying not to moan.

As the last spurt fills my man"s mouth, Finn sits up with my napkin in hand, wipes whatever remnants of wetness from his face, and sinks into the booth, breathing heavily.

Licking his lips, he hums. "You taste good."

"Better than the chocolate cake?" I wink.

"Don't push it." He laughs, full of air and beauty.

I lean over and peck the corner of his mouth.

Finn returns the gesture, cupping my face and kissing me more thoroughly. "I love you," he whispers against my lips.

"I love you more."

"Thank you for bringing me here."

I sweep my tongue over his bottom lip, tasting the remnants of me and the sweetness of chocolate. A perfect combination. "Anytime, sweetheart."

"Next weekend?" He sounds hopeful.

"Sure."

"I think I might like the city."

"I think it likes you, too." I know I do.

Finn nods, a sweet ruddiness filling his cheeks. He kisses me once more—simple and quick. "I wanna try everything with you."

And so, he will.

I love this man. Showing him the world would be my pleasure.

Finn reaches for the bill and drops a stack of cash on top.

"I was…"

"Shhh." Finn smiles, pressing the tip of his finger to my mouth. "It's not every day a man can take his boyfriend to dinner and give him a blow job at the same time. My treat." He winks, and in this moment, I fall even deeper in love with a man I don't think I'll ever be able to live without.

If I'm lucky, I won't have to.

He's it for me.

And I think I'm it for him, too.

The End