Chapter 10

10

Max

When I'd agreed to come back to Luke's place, I'd known this was where we would end up: in his room and on his bed. It's where I wanted to end up, but I can already feel the first prickles of nerves along my skin, even though he's done nothing more than kiss me back and touch my ankle. You're fine—this is Luke you're with and everything is fine. I try to make myself believe it, as I pull him toward me and start to lay down.

"No," he murmurs, "let's flip around."

Before I can say anything, he's stretched out on his back and gently directing me to be on top. I can't help my sigh of relief; being on top is safer. Already my heart has slowed to a I'm-about-to-fuck-my-boyfriend level, and not a I'm-about-to-hyperventilate level. Baby steps.

I put a leg over him so I've got a knee on either side of his hips and bend down to kiss him. He puts his palms flat on my thighs and runs them up and down, making soft gasping noises in the back of his throat. Since he doesn't seem in any hurry to do it himself, I release his mouth long enough to sit back and tug my shirt over my head. He brings his hand up and gently runs his knuckles down the center of my abs.

"Mm," he says. "I wish I had my camera."

"Honestly, so do I," I admit, looking down at him. He's lying there, dark hair fanned across the bedspread, lips swollen from kissing and a glassy look to his eyes. Reaching down, I put a hand on his stomach. "Can I take this off?"

Something flashes in his eyes, then, and if I had to name it, I might call it sadness. But this is Luke we're talking about here, and it's gone so quickly I wonder if it was even there in the first place.

"Yes," he says softly, "you can."

He sits up, and I run my hands up his sides, pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it onto the floor with mine. Instead of lying back down—and letting me suck on every inch of him—he hooks his arms around my waist, holding himself up and me firmly in his lap.

"What shall we do?" He asks, and I can't help the startled laugh that escapes.

"Well, I don't know…I didn't have a plan, I just thought we'd see where things went. Do you usually start sexual encounters by compiling an itinerary?"

"Mm. First stop: Max's impressive six pack. Second stop: his equally impressive v-line. Third?—."

"You're such an idiot," I tell him fondly, completely unable to disguise the fact that I'm obsessed with him. Jesus Christ, I might actually fall in love with him and then we'll really be in trouble.

"Aren't you the lucky one?" He kisses the tip of my nose. "But seriously, all joking aside. What's the game plan? "

"I hadn't thought much farther than just putting my mouth on," I wave a hand in front of his chest and abdomen, "all of that. Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he says, so nonchalantly it must be fake. I narrow my eyes at him.

"You're thinking about the last time we were here and half-naked."

"Maybe a little."

Embarrassed, I go to swing my leg off of him—I don't want to be sitting in his fucking lap while we talk about my psychotic break the other night. He stops me with hands cupped around my ribs, skin an inferno against my own. It's a gentle, loving touch, and makes my face flush with pleasure. It's ridiculous, and a little bit humiliating how starved for affection I've become; I can't think beyond how badly I want him.

"Hey," he says, bringing my eyes to his. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad."

"I know," I say, feeling stiff and uncomfortable. This would be so much easier if I could just tell him; if I could explain why certain things bother me, and why having sex makes me nervous. But I can't, I fucking can't . Luke already treats me like a vulnerable virgin. If he found out that I was roofied and taken advantage of, he'd never touch me again.

"And yet, I apparently did," he says ruefully, reaching up and pressing a thumb to the frown line between my brows. "I'm sorry, Max."

"For a playboy, you do know how to ruin the mood," I joke, and his lips quirk upward.

"I take offense to that, I'm not a playboy."

"Sexual connoisseur?"

"Boyfriend," he answers, winking and leaning forward to kiss my collarbone. Closing my eyes, I rest my chin on his head and enjoy the way my skin tingles after his lips graze me. I wish I could disassociate from my body and just feel; let go of all the anxiety, shame and fear, and simply bask in how wonderful it feels to have my bare chest pressed against Luke's.

He continues kissing every inch of skin he can reach, which isn't much from this position; even so, my heart is pounding, and my fingers are shaking slightly when I tuck them between our bodies and into the waistband of his pants. I hope he mistakes the tremor for something other than what it is, and doesn't make us stop again.

"Move back, love," he murmurs into my neck, and applies pressure to the front of my pelvis.

I slide off of him, giving him enough room to lift his hips and push his pants down his legs. I help him, standing up and tugging them all the way off before doing the same with my own. He left his briefs on, so I do the same, feeling absurdly grateful that I'm not standing buck ass nude in front of him. It's madness—if I'm planning on having sex with him, I'm going to have to take them off eventually.

Putting off that eventuality, I climb back onto the bed just as Luke reaches for me. He pulls me in with both hands cupping my face, lying back until he's flat on the mattress and I'm on top of him once more. He sighs into my mouth and arches upward, pelvis colliding with mine. I get my hands on him, finally, and trace my fingers carefully over the lines of his stomach.

"This is so sexy," I mutter, watching my finger as I trace the line of dark hair below his bellybutton. I adjust my positioning enough that I can do the same thing with my mouth, kissing down to where his boxers are riding low on his hips. I slide my tongue under the waistband and he arches upward again.

With my face down by his crotch, I can hardly help but notice how he's straining at his briefs; the thin fabric leaving nothing to the imagination and the sight practically making my mouth water. My own dick is painfully hard, balls drawn up tight, and even though I was hoping to stretch this out, I think if I don't come soon, I'm going to combust.

Praying that he doesn't notice how badly my hands are shaking, I tuck my fingers into the soft band at his waist and look up at his face. A jolt of longing hits me as violently as a lightning strike. Please don't let me fuck this up .

"Off?" I ask, trying to keep it short, knowing that if I speak in a full sentence my voice will tremble.

"Yes," he says, eyes dark and intent on mine. He lifts his hips again, giving me room to pull them down. I take a good look at him, and now my mouth really is watering; I clear my throat, heat rising to my face for some unknown reason. I've seen plenty of dicks that weren't my own, but it's been a long time and I don't remember ever feeling quite so…off-balance.

"My turn," I say, and then flinch, not having meant to say the words out loud.

"If you want," Luke says, nonchalant, lying naked on the bed with all that brown skin on display, like my own personal wet dream come to life. He lifts an eyebrow at me, smirking. "Lots I can do even without you taking those off."

The knot of anxiety loosens once more, and I laugh. Bending at the waist, I quickly remove my briefs and immediately move to get back onto the bed and on top of him. I don't want to just stand there naked, letting him get an eyeful; I'm afraid I'm running on borrowed bravery, and every minute brings us closer to the time when I finally lose my nerve .

"Hello, you," he says, fingers in my hair and a smile on his face as he looks up at me.

I kiss him, because my throat feels too tight to force words through and I want so much I can't think around it. His hands slide through my hair and come to rest on my shoulder blades, fingers fanned out as though he's searching for every inch of reachable contact. I'm hyperaware of the path they take down my back, but he stops before he gets to my ass; instead, he leaves one hand resting at the base of my spine, and uses the other to brush slow strokes up and down my back.

I bear down on him, slightly, rocking my hips against his and rubbing our erections together. We groan at the same time, the sound reverberating between our mouths and making me huff a soft laugh. I pull away and kiss across his jaw, rolling my hips again and dropping more of my weight down. He tips his head up in a silent request, and I'm all too happy to oblige: turning my face, I apply myself to the very serious business of sucking on every inch of his neck I can reach.

I'm so focused on the taste of his throat, I barely notice that he's pushing his hips upward, in sync with my own. Already, after only a minute of slow frotting, I'm in danger of coming. I can feel it—that pressure building at the base of my spine, where Luke's hand is still pressed. Not yet, not yet, I chant to myself, not wanting this to end too quickly even though my heart is pounding and I'm lightheaded with nerves. Luke's calloused palm makes another slow path from the top of my spine to the base, and I'm eternally grateful for whatever motivation possessed him to perform the motion.

He pushes upward against me and groans at the friction. I can feel a damp sensation on my stomach where one or both of us is leaking, and I wonder if this feels as good for him as it does for me. I wonder if it's enough for him, and if I even have it in me to do more tonight.

"Max," he breathes, as the roll of our hips changes pace. I lift my head from his neck and take a good look at his face—at the long black lashes surrounding blown out pupils, and the soft lips parted slightly as he tries to even his breathing.

"Is this okay?" I whisper, and hate myself for the tendrils of fear that twine their way around the words.

"Yes," he replies, palm sliding up my spine and neck until he's cupping the back of my head. "Yes."

Thank god . I drop my head back down to his shoulder, unable to maintain eye contact amid the emotions crashing through me right now. His hand on my lower back is flexing and releasing, as though he's trying to grab me and pull me closer; I wish there was a way he could. An embarrassing sort of moan escapes me as the pressure peaks.

As though he knows, Luke gasps out a single, breathless instruction: "Come."

We come at the same time, as though both of our bodies were simply waiting for permission. Luke wraps his arms around me, hugging me close as we come down from the high. We're both damp with sweat and cum, breathing ragged even though we were barely moving—the anxiety and dread that live in my chest are all but gone. I feel boneless and spent; I feel happy, and, inappropriately, like I want to cry. In case this is a bodily function I can't control, I tuck my face into Luke's neck where he wouldn't be able to see. The added bonus of this being that now I can smell him without even trying.

"Thank you," I whisper into his skin, and squeeze my eyes shut against the burning. Fuck! Do not cry, Max, do not fucking cry . I probably also shouldn't be thanking the man after getting me off, but I couldn't contain it. I'm really goddamn grateful for him, and I don't know how else I'm supposed to express that.

He doesn't answer, but shifts until his cheek is pressed against my head and tightens his arms in a nonverbal response. I can't believe I was lucky enough to stumble across Luke Kelly in a fucking all-night diner, and I really can't believe I might be lucky enough to hold onto him. You won't hold onto him long, though, if you can't get yourself under control. I take a couple deep inhales of his sunshine scent, trying to breathe past the sobs that want to build in my chest.

"Hey, Maxy?"

"Yeah?" I clear my throat, hoping that I sound like my voice is gravely from passion and not pent-up tears.

"Do you want to stay here tonight, with me?"

"Oh," I say, stalling for time as I scramble to think. I do want to stay. I want to be the kind of guy who can sleep in his boyfriend's bed and not have it be a big deal. "Yeah, I could stay, if you wanted."

"Do you want, was the question I asked, I believe," he teases.

"Yeah, I want to. Of course, I want to," I tell him firmly. The odds of me having a nightmare are low, probably. I don't have them every night, and tonight has been so good ; not even my subconscious could conjure up a horror after a night like tonight. He sighs, chest expanding enough that it jostles me. I shift my hips, feeling the way our cum is sticky between us. "Do you want me to go clean off?"

He huffs, the sound dripping with exasperation. "Good lord, no. Although I wouldn't object if you wanted me to clean you off. "

"What does that mean?" I laugh as he hooks a leg over mine and carefully flips us so that my back is on the bed and he's hovering over me. He leans down to kiss me, a quick peck to my cheekbone, before he slides down to where he can reach my stomach. I prop myself up on my elbows just as he flattens his tongue against me and licks a stripe through the mess.

My face and pelvis both flush with heat as I watch him. He looks up at me through his lashes, gives my stomach another lick, and then climbs off the side of the bed. Lifting my hand from where it was resting on the mattress, he kisses the back of it and strolls off naked across the room toward the bathroom. He leaves the bathroom door open and I can hear the sink running as he presumably wets a towel. I'm a little disappointed that I didn't have a chance to repay the gesture, but I know I wouldn't have been brave enough anyway. Something to add to the list for next time .