10. Risky Encounters

CHAPTER 10

Risky Encounters

Roman

When Everett went quiet, I existed in a permanent state of worry. It was an unexpected change that took place over the course of a few short weeks, and there was no going back. My days were consumed with thoughts of Everett and his well-being. So when he stopped texting back, all the worst things crossed my mind.

On Monday evening, long after he had given me a screen-shattering sexting experience that left both me and my phone burning like the fires of Hell, Everett dropped a line.

"Got something big. Text you tomorrow."

The need to flood him with questions soared through me, and only working a shift at Neon Nights helped to distract me from doing just that. He was probably with his parents, unable to speak to me.

I wondered what it was like to have parents who observed you so much. The Langleys must have been very controlling and demanding.

Cathy and Woody Cross, who had gotten a single baby boy twenty-four years ago and named him Roman, hardly bothered to notice him. Their part, as far as they were concerned, was done. They'd done the raw dogging and giving birth; the rest was down to the young cub. He had to survive in the wild, yell at the entire world because the world wasn't listening, and wander around until he found his own way forward.

I didn't know what it was like to have your parents keep track of your behaviors, monitor your movements, or suspect you might be hiding something. In truth, I considered myself lucky. What Cathy and Woody had done complied with the laws of nature much more than what the Langleys were doing to Everett.

I kept my silence that day, and I kept it the next, although Everett didn't forget about me. He texted me on Tuesday morning to meet him by the Maine Monument on the nearest side of Central Park. Wondering if we might begin meeting on park benches to feed the ducks while exchanging briefcases, I agreed.

"Tonight at eight," Everett texted and followed it with, "I miss you."

Those three little words that few people had ever said to me filled my heart to bursting. He missed me. Knowing it was enough to freeze my lips in a secretive half-smile for the rest of the day.

When I reached the USS Maine Monument, I sat on the steps facing the street. The city was alive with the evening rush, cars streaming past with headlights cutting through the dusk. Central Park's canopy of trees loomed behind me, their leaves just starting to turn fiery shades of red and gold. The grand fa?ades of the buildings along Columbus Circle were bathed in the soft, golden glow of streetlights, creating a striking contrast against the deepening blue of the sky. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of autumn leaves and distant food carts. There, drawing my eye like he was made of pure magic, was Everett. Even with the hood of his hoodie concealing most of his head, I recognized him from a distance.

I hopped up and tucked my hands into my pockets. My body nearly rebelled against my mind, wanting to leap forward and kiss him, but I reminded myself that this was where he lived. Right here, where we had protested just last week, when I had no clue Everett was up in the sky, able to see us.

He walked quickly and with a clear purpose. When he reached the bottom of the stairs before the Maine Monument, he didn't stop. Instead, he grabbed my face with both hands and pressed his lips hard against mine. This riveting, explosive kiss shattered the restraints I'd had in place, and my hands slipped out of my pockets, clinging to his black jacket.

Everett's brow pressed against mine as our lips parted. "I needed this," he whispered.

I murmured my agreement, opening my eyes and looking into his. He was so handsome and growing more beautiful every time I saw him. The thing was, whenever I saw him, he was mine a little more. And I belonged to him. It didn't freak me out to admit it. I belonged to him unquestioningly.

"Do you want to come up?" he asked, a smile touching his lips with just enough cheekiness that my heart leaped.

But the thought was ridiculous. "What about…?"

"They're away," he said. "They're upstate with Robert and Hilary Jacobs."

I held on to his jacket a little longer. "It's risky," I said.

"You could see my room," Everett said, something naughty creeping into his voice.

My heart was on fire, but I still held on to some lingering trace of reason. "Isn't that how they caught your friend?"

"We weren't friends," Everett said coolly. "Besides, I know where my parents are. They won't be back until much later. Come."

Part of me wondered if he wanted to get caught. Another part wondered why. Still, Everett took my hand and waited, his eyes glimmering with hope and a greedy sort of desire. He wanted me, and I loved that feeling.

I didn't know I agreed to it by the time my feet moved, and I found myself entering the ridiculously tall skyscraper where the richest of the rich parked their cash. The elevator ride alone took an eternity, and Everett held my hand with firmness and determination.

"Yesterday," he said carefully and then went quiet for a heartbeat or two. "They were so fucking smug, Rome. They think they bagged it. Dad worries about the protests dragging it out, but Jacobs… That guy is full of himself."

"Okay," I said, my nerves restless. "You said you had something big."

Everett squeezed his eyes shut. He looked like it took effort to remain still as the elevator moved up soundlessly. "I have enough proof to bring them down."

Breath hitched in my throat. "Are you serious?"

Everett looked at me apologetically. "There's only one problem," he said.

I gazed back at him, reading his face, reading the set of his jaw and the pain in his eyes. "You don't want to," I said. I hoped my voice didn't betray even a touch of hurt or judgment. I understood it almost perfectly, but I worried that there was enough disappointment in me to touch my tone.

"It's not that I don't want to," Everett said. "It's that I'm…" He held his breath as the elevator came to a halt. It dinged once, and the doors opened smoothly to a large, open space of the Langley penthouse. "I don't think I'm ready," Everett admitted.

I heard his words, and I understood them, accepted them even, but my gaze moved over the apartment's interior. The elevator opened into the foyer, which was separated from the elegant and warm living area only through visual cues but no real walls. The foyer's marble floor glistened under the soft ambient lighting, leading the eye to the expansive living area beyond. Plush sofas were arranged around a sleek glass coffee table while floor-to-ceiling windows framed a breathtaking view of the city skyline. Rich, hardwood floors stretched throughout the space. The walls, however, were not adorned with tasteful modern art. Instead of paint splatters that cost millions, these walls depicted Jesus Christ, his crucifixion, or his rising from the dead. It felt like walking into a crypt under some old church if only it weren't so glitzy and rich.

"If I do this," Everett said, and my gaze snapped back to him, "I'll never have a home here again, Rome." I nodded in reply as Everett brushed the side of my cheek with the back of his fingers. "You see, I recorded them. And if that leaks, he'll know. They'll both know."

My heart skipped a beat. There was a recording, then. We had actual proof.

My dilemma was simple enough. I could insist on having the recording and finishing the entire business quickly. Or, I could let things play out differently. After all, Everett could have lied. He could have said there was no proof to get out of his terrible predicament.

"It's frightens me to pull that trigger, Rome," Everett said.

I nodded, enjoying the softness of his fingers on my face. I tilted my head like a kitten who wanted the ear scratching to continue. "Then we won't," I told him before looking up and into his eyes. "For now, at least."

Everett blew out a long breath of air he'd been holding in. "Really?"

"You said your father is worried already," I pointed out. "It means we're doing well. Maybe, if there's any luck, we won't need it."

Everett pulled me against his body, his arms wrapping around me with gratitude. "That's all I ask," he said. "I know it could come to it. I just need a little time if it happens."

And then I understood. He wanted us to be caught. He wanted them to fire the first shots. So long as they didn't, his betrayal would be worse.

I lifted my head and let him kiss me. I let him kiss me in all the ways I had been imagining since three nights ago when I'd last seen him. I had been dreaming of this.

Without another word, Everett took my hand, pulled his head back, and led me through the grand living room, where Jesus Christ watched us from every wall. We passed through a hallway with more depictions of scenes from the Bible until we finally entered a spacious, cozy room that was unmistakably Everett's. The room was bathed in the amber glow of a floor lamp in one distant corner. The walls were ochre with dark brown stripes along the top.

A bed was placed against the middle of the left wall, flanked by nightstands. Nearer to us was a desk with an office chair, and next to it were bookcases with various memorabilia displayed on the shelves. On the far side of the room, there was a sofa, a table, modern armchairs, and more of little Everett's favorite things displayed along the surfaces. The view from the room was that of Central Park and the glimmering lights of the sprawling city far, far below us.

And there, right above the bed, mounted to the middle of the wall, was a cross.

"You are such a sinner," I told him.

Everett grabbed me from behind, arms coiling around my body, his lips close to my ear. "Sinning with you is the only way I want to live."

If there had been any doubt in me, he scattered its remains into oblivion.

My body relaxed in his hold. His hands dragged over my chest and stomach as he leaned down and pressed his heated lips against the bare skin of my neck. A shudder passed through me, and I was his. Instantly, completely his.

Somewhere deep in my consciousness, sinking swiftly under the tide of lust, was the awareness that I had a monumental task ahead of me. I needed to steer the ship to safety while keeping Everett protected from the backlash. I didn't want him to lose everything. And I didn't want Mama Viv to lose everything. And somewhere between these two extremes, there had to be a path I could clear.

Everett was mine to protect. He was mine to stand with. He was mine to be with.

His arms wrapped around my body tighter, and the words left my lips in a sigh I never expected to hear. "I think I'm in love with you."

There was only a moment of tension that passed between us, but then I realized that his muscles had bunched in the effort to turn me around. My body froze with fright. Had I truly uttered those words? Had I said them aloud?

My chest shook with the pounding heartbeats it was unable to contain within. And when Everett turned me around, he towered over me, gazing into my eyes. He swallowed, a small smile creeping to his face. "I never thought I could be this lucky," he whispered.

"You're not scared?" I asked.

He let out a soft laugh. "I'm fucking terrified, Roman. But not of you. And not of my feelings for you."

Our bodies melted together in a heated embrace, a passionate kiss following a few heartbeats later. As we kissed, Everett nudged me to walk backward. Inch by heated inch, I neared the wide bed under the dark, elaborate cross with a carving of Christ observing us.

And when Everett pushed me lightly, I fell back on his bed, arms spread wide, much like those of the man hanging on the wall, and Everett climbed on top of me. He lowered his weight to my upper legs, his hands pressing my abdomen and dragging lazily up my torso. The edge of my T-shirt lifted, revealing a strip of flesh that caught his eye. "I'm falling in love with you, too, Roman," he said in a deep, quiet purr. "How could I not?"

I knew it wasn't simple flattery. The truth of his words took away my senses. It left me speechless, disoriented, only really aware of one thing: we were together again.

Everett traced the sides of my torso until he reached my armpits, and then he followed the length of my arms until he held my wrists in his iron grip, his torso leaning low and his head hovering just above mine. And when he kissed me, I was gone. I was so far gone into the realm of pure bliss that I didn't care about the risks. I didn't care that his home was marked with that which judged us from every wall and every corner. I didn't care that his parents could surprise us and find us in the moment of purest passion. Let them. Let them see what it looked like to make love.

Everett kissed me deeply, his tongue slipping into my mouth, exploring me freely and with such confidence that it was hard to believe he had been deeply closeted just a month ago. It was hard to believe that he had never been with another man before me, but it was the truth.

"I want you," I whispered once his lips moved away from mine. "I want you so bad, Everett."

"I'm here," he said, his breath hot and sweet and wonderful against my lips.

"Do what you told me you wanted to do," I said, fighting for control over my voice.

His smile was sinister, devilishly handsome. He gripped my wrists tighter, crossing them above my head and holding them with one hand. His other hand traveled down my arm, armpit, and the side of my rib cage. Everett pinched his fingers around the edge of my T-shirt and dragged it all the way to my neck, revealing my entire torso. He did the same to his T-shirt a moment later, his hot body pressing hard against mine.

I wiggled just a little, and Everett climbed off my legs, letting me spread them wide so he could lie between them. Then, as I wrapped my legs around his waist, he kissed me again.

Each kiss was hungrier than the one before it; each grew hotter than any I'd shared with anyone before. The yearning in me to feel Everett inside my body was so strong that it made my throat tight and my chest quiver with each laborious breath I drew.

Everett's free hand traveled up and down the length of my torso. His fingers found my left nipple, pinching it gently, playfully, until a moan burst out of me, and he swallowed it in the middle of our kiss. He didn't stop. Instead, he pinched me harder, teasing my nipple with those soft fingers.

I broke our kiss when warmth spilled and spread through my guts. It traveled quickly down my thighs, leaving a tingling trail of arousal, and my head snapped back, my neck arching in ecstasy. "Oh fuck," I grunted, trying to break free of his grip and failing miserably. It wasn't like I had anything to do with my hands if the control returned to me. I was simply filled with the need to act.

"Tell me I'm yours," I begged.

Everett's hand left my nipple and reached to my chin. He held it between his thumb and forefinger, looking into my eyes. "You're mine, baby. Only mine."

If humans could melt like ice cream on a hot summer afternoon, that would be what happened to me then.

In the dark orange glow of that single, struggling lamp, the room exuded warmth, but it was my inner light that banished the shadows.

When Everett released my wrists, I quickly grabbed the upper edge of his T-shirt and yanked it over his head. He lifted his torso for long enough to toss the T-shirt aside and then pull mine off as well. He watched me as I heaved a deep breath of air into my lungs, my chest rising and falling sharply.

"Are you gonna be good, Roman?" he purred, placing his hands squarely on my chest and dragging them torturously down to my waist.

"Never," I teased.

"Then I'll have to make you," he said, his voice adopting that irresistible quality of pure electricity. His true self, that wild and touch-starved young man, came out of the shadows, reclaiming the beautiful body that would have what it was owed. He would have all the pleasures I could offer, and I could offer many and more.

"You can try," I said, defiance outweighing the playfulness in my tone. My hands were around his wrists, but there was no point in trying to stop his hands from exploring me. He was infinitely stronger, and I was absolutely his to touch, to feel, and to claim.

He grabbed my hips and pulled me closer to him, then unbuckled my belt while kneeling upright in the subdued light that softened his features and cast deep, rich shadows between his muscles.

It took him a few tries to get the belt off me. So far, Everett was careful in how he behaved so he wouldn't show just how new this was to him. I imagined he had never done this to another person, and the rare show of inexperience only made him hotter. When my belt was off, he undid the top button with greater ease, sliding the zipper down and revealing my red briefs with a big, hard bulge extending close to my right hip.

Everett undressed me carelessly, inverting my pants and pulling them off my legs with a swift, careless move before throwing them on the floor. He pulled his pants down next, standing tall and mouthwateringly gorgeous in his boxer briefs with his cock stretching the fabric thin. Seeing his size like this sent chills down my arms and tingles into my groin. I wanted him inside me more than I wanted oxygen or the salvation of my soul. I wanted him like he was all that could keep me alive.

"Let me look at you," I said, my voice thick with desire.

Hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear, he pulled it up and down, revealing some more of his flesh and the trimmed pubic hair that adorned the area around his cock. He moved his hands in the opposite direction, teasing me playfully, torturing me mercilessly, and only ever letting me have small glimpses of the base of his dick. And when he bit down on his lip, he became infinitely hotter.

I ran a hand over the bulge in my underwear, not even realizing how desperately I needed him to touch me until my own hand made me release a trembling breath of air.

Everett sucked his teeth once, making me jerk my hand away, a frustrated moan rising in my throat. I clawed the sheet beneath me as Everett pulled down his boxer briefs, letting his straight, stiff cock stand like a spear. He made one step toward the bed, his dick swaying under its weight, and his hand reached my ankles. The move was so swift and effortless for a guy of Everett's build that it knocked the breath out of me. He dragged me down the length of the bed like I really was just a toy for his pleasure.

The role suited me so well that another moan soon rose from my chest.

Everett climbed on top of me, never letting me touch myself again. He set his knees on the mattress on either side of my waist, inching closer along my torso. Whenever his bare flesh touched mine, a trembling breath left my body. He neared me, crawling on all fours, his balls swinging gently between his spread legs, his abs tensing with the effort. And when he was positioned perfectly above my face, I lifted my head and let my open mouth touch his balls.

I could feel the shudder that passed through him. I could feel the tension that strung his nerves and muscles. The sensitive and sensual met in an explosion of fearful desire. I wondered if anyone had ever done this to him. I knew he'd had girls before. I knew he'd been miserable in his own body for it. And I knew that nobody had ever made him feel the way I did.

My tongue ventured out gently, pressing against the heavy balls that rested firmly on my open mouth.

Everett's hiss turned into a growl as he lowered himself a little more, his taint hard against my chin, the underside of his cock rubbing lazily against my face.

I slapped my hands against his bare, round ass, holding him in place as I gave myself the freedom to taste him as much as my heart desired. I opened my mouth wide, extending my tongue to lick him greedily.

Gaining his confidence quickly, Everett pressed himself harder against my face, reaching back to take hold of my wrists and pinning my arms above my head. He dragged his cock and balls over my mouth, chin, nose, and cheek with increasing urgency. His weight steadily pressed down on me, and I thought I was in Heaven. Where else could this be? If he smothered me to unconsciousness right now, I would be the happiest boy toy in the world. The only thing that was better than that was remaining aware of every fractional move he made on top of me.

My breaths left my body in quick and short grunts, my tongue stretched out and soft for him to use. My saliva smeared over my face as he rubbed himself against me, his hips jerking back and forth with increasing intensity. And when he pulled his body back a few inches more, I opened my mouth wide, hoping he would deliver on the promise he had made yesterday morning.

Everett's dick entered my mouth with easy smoothness, sliding three or four inches deep before he met any resistance. He winced, observing me from high above while the muscles of his torso clenched tightly, and a fine layer of perspiration slicked his smooth skin. He thrust himself into me, impaling my head on his thickness and forcing his way into my loosening, relaxing throat. That strange, exciting sense of panic that lingered on the far horizon of my consciousness—panic that I would run out of air, that I would gag, that I would choke—made my fingertips tingle. There was something so deeply sexual about the struggle for power. It was even more alluring when your partner was as possessive as Everett. When he said I was his, he meant it in every sense possible.

His cock filled my mouth and throat carelessly. I knew better than to think he wasn't aware of my body, for when my throat constricted, Everett pulled himself out, giving me a moment to breathe. It was like his heart was tied to mine; it was like he could feel that brief moment of fear that I was low on oxygen.

If I had hoped to be taken the way he had described in his messages, all my dreams were true. He used my body for the infinite pleasure that rippled across his painfully beautiful face, his gaze locked onto mine, his hands tight around my wrists, and his cock deep down my throat. He tested my limits to the last split second before my hands would close into fight-ready fists, and my body would react on instinct to preserve itself. He stretched me thin and strung me tight. He buried himself in me and let me gag, tears brimming in my eyes and saliva trickling down my mouth. It only made him hornier for me, and it only made me want him more. I renounced all agency. I handed over all control.

When Everett pulled himself out of my mouth with a deep groan, we both needed a long moment to heave air into our lungs. My chin and cheeks were wet, but that didn't stop Everett from leaning down and pressing his mouth against mine. He kissed the mess he had made on me and used his hands to torment my body with light, feather-like moves down the sides of my rib cage. When he reached my hips, he took me firmly, his lips hovering over mine. "I'm going to make you come so hard, baby," he purred.

I choked on the moan that stopped in my throat.

As easily as if I were a pillow he meant to abuse in the dead of night, Everett turned me around. His fingers stretched the waistband of my briefs just under my cheeks, and his mouth found the place of my pleasure. He licked me without hesitation, once to warn me and again to set my expectations. What followed was the bliss of torment that I couldn't imagine being topped by anyone else. As if you'll ever want anyone after him , I thought distantly and then dismissed the idea that there even could be an after . Everett devoured me with the same intensity with which he had fucked my mouth, his tongue working my rim wet and soft, making me relax, pushing himself into me with growing pressure. His face was buried deep between my cheeks as he yanked my underwear down my legs. He ate me, all the while undressing me, throwing my briefs somewhere far out of my field of vision or interest.

His hand wrapped around my throbbing cock, fist tightening as his tongue probed me harder. Using his free hand, Everett squeezed my left cheek, holding it in a firm grip while letting his saliva trickle down my hole and taint. I felt its blazing heat as it dripped down my rising balls and onto his fine bedsheets.

He held me, but he never stroked me, his other hand nearing the space between my cheeks until his forefinger could easily massage my hole. It was slick with spit, and Everett circled it until I regained just enough control over myself to force it to relax. And then, much like that miraculous moment when a place took off the runway or the fireworks exploded in the sky, his finger was inside of me.

Forcing a thin, high-pitched moan out of me, Everett pushed his finger all the way into my body, twisting his wrist one way and then the other as he worked me ruthlessly. He must have felt the pulse of my cock in his fist, the tightening of my hole around his knuckle, but he didn't slow down. He was careful, though, but he kept me so close to the edge that I was certain I would come much sooner than I'd hoped.

When Everett pushed his middle finger to join the first, air drained out of me in a rumbling groan. I spilled profanities into the pillow, discovering that his intense fingering had shoved my body higher up along the bed. I sprawled there, wide and open for him, letting my senses experience this moment without the taint of conscious thoughts. The overwhelming emotions that built up in me ranged from pure ecstasy to dreadful sorrow, although I could hardly untangle the knots in my heart. Fears and hopes mixed seamlessly in my chest as Everett had his way with me.

And when he pulled his fingers out, warmth lingered inside of me, and my hole pulsed quickly, longingly for more of his touch.

I didn't even realize that he had gotten off the bed and returned to it until my open mouth felt the softness of his underwear. He stuffed my mouth with his boxer briefs just like he had promised, growling that I should be good and obedient if I wanted to come. And when I whimpered assent through my nose, biting down on the ball of soft fabric inside my mouth that carried the lingering scent of his musk, Everett touched my hips, lifted me to kneel, and pressed a hand on the small of my back.

"Are you ready, baby?" he purred, his cock sliding between my cheeks. This was the first time we left the protection out, with both of us on PrEP, and my entire body tingled with yearning. His skin on mine, our bodies merging, our souls melting into one another. I held my breath as longing and expectation welled in me. If he didn't move soon, these feelings would shatter me.

Biting hard on the underwear that filled my mouth, I grunted my assent, thrusting my butt back against him.

Everett slowly dragged his bare cock over my hole, the lube, which he'd poured over it after stuffing my mouth, mixed with the saliva that remained on my body. I was warm and tingly for him, my hope relaxed by the sheer force of my will. And when he buried the first inch of his cock inside of me, my body tensed everywhere at once, a grunt stifled by the cotton boxers inside my mouth.

"Hush," he whispered soothingly, placing both hands on my hips and moving his thumbs in circles as if to massage me. It distracted me from that single instant of pain, working like a charm, and I relaxed again, swinging back gently against him and letting his hard cock dip deeper into me.

I heard him wheeze quietly as his fingers dug deeper into my flesh, pulling me back on him and dragging me down his length. For nearly a minute, we only dared move in fractions of an inch, testing, learning, and finding the limits. And when that insurmountable blockade dissipated, my body welcoming him freely, I felt every inch that filled me then. His dick entered me deeper, making my cock throb twice in a row before I could push harder and relax. The sensation of forcing myself to stay open for him sent a maddening tickle down my cock, precum dripping in a silver string between the swollen head of my dick and the bedsheets.

I lifted my head from the view of my tortured dick and to the cross that hung above the bed. My feet grew hot, toes curling with each inch of me that Everett filled, and my muscles bunched. Fitting inside of me with the kind of perfection that might have been designed by some divine hand, Everett let go of my hips and grabbed my upper arms instead, yanking me back.

Where my torso lost the support of my fists in the mattress, it gained it through Everett's sheer strength. He held me in a semi-upright kneel, pulling my arms back to him and swinging his hips back and forth, ramming into me with increasingly louder sounds of wet skin against wet skin.

I groaned and cried and whimpered, but the sounds were swallowed by the thick fabric of his underwear. My fists clenched, and my biceps knotted, but Everett's firm grip had me in place. His cock, sliding smoothly in and out of me, pushed against my prostate with every move, sending a thicker drip of precum leaking from my cock. Its hot trail went down the underside of my cock, pulsing in strength with each irresistible rub of my special spot. And Everett knew it. He knew exactly what I looked like when I was brain-dead with lust and falling apart with pleasure.

Sweat beaded over my brow and back. It made Everett's grip around my biceps slippery, and his hands glided down until he held my wrists like reins, my arms pulled all the way behind my back, my torso leaning lower.

I grunted and spilled the boxer briefs out of my mouth, whimpering with the tortured pleasure that colored my voice. "Oh fuck," I huffed once I caught a breath of air. "You're gonna make me come."

Everett's pace moved between quick and slow in a measured rhythm so that neither extended the maximum of its enjoyment. When he slowed down, he could move in a way that widened the angle of his cock, penetrating me deeply and to maddening highs of pleasure. When he sped up, the repetitive sensory inputs made my blood boil.

My voice was worn and hoarse as I cried and growled. Everett's was deep and husky, shallow breaths coming out of his mouth in pants and short sighs. He held my arms as much as he held on to them, clashing our bodies together with such deep and unadulterated sensitivity.

The sounds of our sex drowned out all else. The mixing scents of sweat, lube, and musk drenched everything around us, and the tightness of his heated fingers around my tense wrists gave me both pleasure and safety. He was holding me. I didn't need to think about anything. He had me, and he cared for me.

"…want you…Everett…" Murmurs rolled over my lips as I lost my breath, panting shallowly once in a while and letting my body experience every second of suspense in which I existed. "…come inside me…please…"

His dick ruthlessly stimulated my prostate as he yanked my arms back. He lifted my torso higher and fucked me under a sharper angle that ensured he rubbed my spot with every single thrust. And when my body convulsed, muscles tied into knots and toes curling enough to make my feet cramp, I surrendered to him completely. My dick throbbed as the rampant sexual frustration finally culminated, pleasure soaring through me. Hot strings and ribbons of cum shot out of my cock as my hole clenched hard around Everett's big dick, making him groan with that unique mixture of pleasure of pain.

I came hard, my orgasm tearing through me, my voice rising as my eyes brimmed with hot tears. In the following heartbeat, as joy and pleasure filled my heart, I felt him. I felt the rapturous sensation of his bare cock, buried deep inside my body, throbbing and spilling his cum in me. I could have sworn I felt the heat of it fill me up. And even if that was impossible, I was certain I felt the heat of it as it trickled down in the continuous movements Everett made. He rammed me hard, then softer, slowing down as he rode the high wave of his orgasm, his cum half in me and half trickling out in a small stream that warmed my taint.

And when he let go of my wrists, I crashed on the bed with all my muscles trembling, sliding off his unsheathed cock and heaving for air. Everett joined me half a second later, collapsing next to me and drawing deep breaths into his broad chest.

His muscled arm came around me, pulling me into the best place I could imagine. We folded our bodies to fit one another, trembling with exhaustion and pleasure for a long time after, holding on to each other like it was all that kept us firmly grounded.

I was in love with him. There was no other feeling in the world I could equate this with. What I felt when I thought of him was so powerful that it could move mountains and change the face of the Earth. It could burn and destroy as much as it could create and rebuild. With him and for him, I would face God and win. I would demand to know why he had to be hurt as much as he was.

But my thoughts drifted, and my tongue remained tied. I simply caressed the length of the arm that held me for a long while, regaining my strength.

Everett led me to the shower after we'd gotten near falling asleep, and we washed ourselves together, kissing in a cloud of steam. Nobody caught us in the act, and I was happy because of it. Later, we might need to burn all the bridges between him and his family. We sure headed down a one-way road. But right now, I just wanted him to be happy. For just one moment in life, I wanted him to be so carelessly happy that nothing could overshadow it.