16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Beck

M y cock is throbbing so hard that I’m honestly surprised I haven’t already blown. The sight of Roman beneath me, his hole clenching around my fingers, and the desperate, breathless way he’s begging, is almost too much. I have to squeeze my eyes closed and block it all out for a second, or this will be over before it even starts. Honestly, it’s one thing to come quickly, but it would be something else entirely to come untouched simply from having your fingers deep inside your boyfriend’s body, and that’s something I refuse to do.

Slowly, I pull my fingers free of him, watching in fascination as his hole gapes open slightly before slowly contracting. I grab the condom from the bed and tear it open with my teeth. My hands are shaking as I try to roll it down my length, and after a few starts and stops, I finally manage it. I reach for the lube, pouring some into my hand, and slick my cock. My body is so on edge that I almost come just from the feeling of my own hand. God, how am I going to do this?

I lean forward, positioning myself between his legs, and press the tip of my cock against his hole. I push gently, feeling some resistance, until the head pops through the ring of muscle. I’m trembling, my balls drawing up tight as I try to hold back.

Roman is practically vibrating below me, his cock leaking profusely onto his stomach, moans pouring from his mouth. Gently, I pull his legs down until I can lie flat against him, covering his mouth with my own as I push in a little deeper. The tight squeeze of his body makes me gasp into his mouth, my cock aching with the need to move, to thrust into him, but I know if I do, I’m going to fucking lose it. His cock is trapped between our bodies, smearing pre-cum over my stomach, and I can feel it throbbing. We’re both breathing too hard to actually kiss. We’re more or less brushing our lips together as moans and groans vibrate between us. I press in further, in one smooth movement, until my hips are flush with his ass. I stop moving when my cock gives a hard lurch, convinced I’m going to come.

After a couple of deep breaths, I pull out almost completely, just the tip of my cock holding him open, and then push back into him. He tightens around me, his body trembling. I pull back a little, worried that I’ve hurt him, but his hands come up to grasp my ass, holding me in place. He nips my bottom lip, and my hips jerk, causing me to push deeper inside of him. He shudders beneath me as his warm cum spills between us, the intensity of his orgasm pulling a moan from his throat, his hole clenching so tightly around me that I can’t even move.

It doesn’t matter, though. The pulsing of his body around my cock pulls me over the edge, and I bury my face in his neck, grinding my hips against his as my cock fills the condom deep inside him. The latex does nothing to mask the heat of his body. I’m so overwhelmed by the feelings exploding inside me that my mouth runs away from me. I can hear myself telling him how good he feels, how perfect he is for me, how much I fucking love him.

That one jerks me back to reality, and I pull back, locking eyes with him. His stunning brown eyes are wide and glistening. “Did you mean it?” he asks, his voice tinted with a cautious sort of hope.

“God, of course I did, beautiful. I love you so much. I swear, it’s like my heart beats just for you.”

His breath catches in his throat, and the tears spill over, running down his cheeks and disappearing into his hair. “I love you too,” he chokes out.

I reach down and hold the base of the condom, then slip free of his body and remove it, tying it off and tossing it on the floor. “I’ll be right back,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead. I wipe my stomach off with a t-shirt and slip on a pair of shorts before walking out of the room and slipping into the bathroom. I clean myself up, then wet a fresh washcloth before heading back to the bedroom.

When I walk into the room, he’s still on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his eyes still wet but a tiny smile on his lips. “Hey, beautiful, you doing okay?” I ask as I sit down beside him and start cleaning him up.

He nods and turns his gaze to mine. “Yeah, I’m good,” he says, a soft, dreamy quality to his voice. “I’m so happy.”

Once I’ve wiped him down, I toss the rag to the floor and wrap him up in my arms, holding him close. “I’m happy too. Maybe next time we’ll both last a little longer than fifteen seconds,” I say with a little chuckle.

His laughter vibrates against my chest, and I smile, unable to help myself. “Maybe. I don’t have any complaints, though.”

I brush my lips against his temple and he sighs, content and warm, tucked against me. “Asking you out was the best thing I ever did.”

He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. The way he’s clinging to me and the way his body melts into mine tell me all I need to know. I hold him, basking in his love, until he falls asleep, and I follow right after.

I need to talk to my dad about Roman. Since he’s just left for work, now is the perfect time. I don’t know what to do. He’s been…off the last couple of weeks, more distant. The first month he was here, everything was perfect, but now something seems off. Sometimes he stares off into space, and it takes me a few tries to get his attention. He keeps brushing off my concern, but I know he wants to check on his dad. He feels responsible for him. I know he wants to make sure he’s not drinking himself to death, that the house isn’t falling in around him. My anxiety about the situation is making me a little crazy, though.

“Hey, Dad?” I ask as I walk into the living room.

Dad pauses his reading on the couch and looks up at me. “Yeah, Beck? What’s up?”

I really don’t want to ask this question, but if I trust anyone’s judgement, it’s his. “Do you think I should go with Roman to check on his dad?”

He sets his book down, a contemplative look crossing his face. “That’s hard, son. We both know Roman feels a certain level of responsibility for him, even though he shouldn’t.” Accurate. “It can be challenging to separate that in someone’s mind when they’ve been abused. It’s cut and dry for us. Roman’s father is a bad person, and therefore we don’t understand his attachment. For us, it’s easy. We don’t have those feelings of love for him. We only care about Roman and his well-being.”

I nod, tears stinging the backs of my eyes as I walk across the room and sit down beside him. “I don’t want him to go, Dad. But I also don’t want him to resent me for asking him not to. I don’t know what to do.”

Dad reaches out and grips my shoulder. “I think that Roman is intelligent and kind, despite everything he’s been through. Asking him not to care about his dad would be like asking him to give up a core part of himself. We don’t have to like that he wants to care for him, but we do have to accept it.”

“So,” I start, and then clear my throat. “Do you think I should encourage him to go check on him? I don’t want him to go by himself, but I also don’t want to cause him more problems by going with him.”

Dad hums. “I’d personally feel better if he didn’t go alone, but I also think that Roman is capable of making his own decisions. Why don’t you have an open conversation with him about your fears and his concerns? Maybe the two of you can find common ground. Perhaps he checks on his dad, but you stay at the end of the driveway on the phone with him, ready to help if something happens. Or maybe he goes alone, and you agree ahead of time on a specified check-in time, and if he doesn’t respond, you call for help.”

I nod slowly, anxiety rising in my chest, wrapping around my throat like an iron fist, threatening to cut off my air. “That’s not a bad idea,” I finally say after a minute. “It’s not my favorite. I’d rather him never go there again. Never see him again, if I’m being honest.”

Dad nods, removing his hand from my shoulder to tap my nose lightly. “I know, and I’m not too keen on him going there myself. But you know how to tell when you’ve found a good compromise?”

I shake my head. “No, how?” I ask.

“When neither party is fully happy with the outcome.”

“I want to protect him, Dad. Is that so wrong?” I ask, not happy at all with the idea of him going into the lion’s den.

“Of course that’s not wrong. I want to protect him too, and so does your mother. Hell, that boy wrapped us around his finger within seconds. But sometimes we have to do hard things for the people we love. And maybe your hard thing, for now, is to be a safe place for him to land while he figures out how to balance his need to stay safe with his need to keep his dad safe.”

“Ugh. You should really be getting paid for this, you know?” I say with a chuckle. “Where do you even learn all this crap?”

Dad smiles and shrugs. “At the School of Dads. It’s a very prestigious program. It’s also where they teach us dad jokes.”

I groan and bury my face in my hands, but a laugh rumbles in my chest anyway. He’s something else. “Okay, so I need to talk to Roman about my feelings, tell him if he wants to check in on his dad, he should, and then try to get him to agree with me either coming or having some sort of plan in place in case things go sideways?”

He nods at me. “You’ve got it, kiddo.”

I lean forward to give him a hug, and he pulls me into his strong embrace. His familiar scent wraps around me, and I sag in his arms. When I was a kid, Dad never let go of me until I was ready, until I was the one who broke free of our hug, and nothing has changed. His strong arms stay wrapped around me, holding me close and keeping all the pieces of me that want to fall apart together, until I’m ready to let go.

I’m smiling as I shade Roman’s hair in the drawing I’m working on. In it, his body is stretched out in our bed, his chest bare, jeans undone, and the tip of his cock showing against his stomach. His eyes are closed in pleasure, the blankets bunched around his thighs, and his cheeks are flushed in that way I love.

I could stare at him forever, and my drawings of him feel like a way to make that possible. Like I can freeze time, capturing it in my sketchbook.

The door to the room opens, and Roman walks in with a smile on his face.

“Hey, beautiful,” I say. “Good day at work?”

He nods and comes across the room, sitting down beside me. The bed dips with his weight, and I set down my sketchbook. I no longer hide my drawings from Roman. In fact, I often use them as a way to build him up, showing him the features I love most about him. I love it, especially when he gets all shy, like he doesn’t quite believe that’s how I see him.

He leans over and looks down at my most recent drawing, his eyes going a little wide. This is the first risqué drawing I’ve done of him. I watch his reaction as his eyes trail down the picture, taking in all the details.

He leans back and clears his throat, a faint pink tinting his cheekbones. “Still can’t believe this is how you see me,” he mumbles, sounding a little embarrassed.

“Actually,” I say, leaning in to kiss him softly. “I see you better than this. I know you like to wax poetic about how talented I am, but not even I can fully grasp how gorgeous you are on paper. I can try my best, but it’s an impossible task, I fear.”

He stares at me, a little slack-jawed. “You can’t mean that,” he murmurs.

“Of course I do.”

Big brown eyes blink at me owlishly, before the blush deepens, and he ducks his head. God, I love when he gets like this. But I have a feeling I’m about to ruin the moment.

“So, um, I need to talk to you about something,” I start awkwardly, and instantly, his body tenses. The flush drains from his face along with the rest of the color. “Woah, what’s wrong?” I ask, startled by his quick change in demeanor.

“You’re not breaking up with me, are you? Oh God, are you kicking me out?”

I stare at him in shock, unsure where he would get such a crazy-ass idea. After replaying my words in my head, realization dawns, and I reach out quickly, pulling him into my arms. He doesn’t even put up a fight. No, he slumps against my body, like always, a slight tremor running through him.

“God, no. No. Nothing like that,” I reassure him, my fingers finding a home in his hair so I can tilt his face back to mine. The pain and fear radiating in his eyes almost undo me, and I can’t resist leaning forward to capture his lips with mine. He opens to me immediately, his kisses a little needy and desperate. I slow us down until our lips are moving lazily against each other, and he’s feeding me a steady stream of whimpers and soft moans.

When I pull back from him, he’s breathless, lips wet and swollen, eyes half-lidded and soft. And mine. So fucking mine. The sight of him like this sends a possessive groan rumbling through my chest. Fuck, he’s so beautiful.

“No, Roman. I’m not breaking up with you. And I’m not kicking you out,” I say softly. He nods slowly, and I gently release my hold on his hair, smoothing out the strands with my fingers before taking a deep breath, steeling myself for the can of worms I’m about to open.