33. Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Three

Roman

B efore too long, I won’t have anything left. God, his words gut me. I’m not mad—how could I be? It’s not like I expected him to sit around and wait for me. But, knowing that his relationship with sex has been reduced to that, is heartbreaking. Maybe it’s just me seeing through the idyllic lens of youth, but what we shared was… perfection. I can’t imagine having sex that leaves me feeling like what he’s describing.

I slip my hands back up under his shirt and trace my fingers along his spine. He shudders against me, and I smile while I collect my thoughts.

“Are you upset?” he asks after a few moments.

“Of course not. But I do feel even more strongly now that it’s important to wait.”

He nods, his nose brushing against my throat. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” I ask, my fingers exploring the warm skin of his back. Having him in my arms like this feels like a dream.

“Yeah. I don’t… it’s not like it used to be. With you, I mean. I’m… cold. Detached. The last guy called me a fucking asshole. And he’s not wrong.”

The tinge of sadness in his voice is breaking my heart. “Do you think I want to wait because I’m scared of being disappointed?” He hesitates, so I continue. “That would never happen. First off, you just said you don’t kiss and you don’t cuddle, but we’ve done both of those things. And I don’t know about you, but this right here? It feels just as magical as it always did. So did our kisses the other night.”

“But not the first one. When I was rough with you. You said you wanted more tenderness.”

I chuckle. I can’t help it. He would leave half of it out and miss the most important part. “I also said with less hatred. I’m okay with rough. I just want it to be rough with love, not rough with hate. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, I don’t hate you, though,” he mumbles, a little petulant.

“We established that, yes. And I don’t hate you either. But our second first kiss was not from love—it was from anger and desperation. That’s not what I want for us.”

He hums against my neck and I shudder hard. “But loving kisses are a yes?” he asks, and a smile spreads across my face.

“Yes,” I whisper.

He lifts himself off me and gazes down, his blue eyes filled with some emotion I can’t name. Slowly, he leans in, eyes fluttering closed. I feel floaty, like it’s our first kiss all over again. His lips brush mine softly, then he pulls back. He repeats the motion, his breath mingling with mine. The tip of his tongue grazes my bottom lip and I gasp, my stomach clenching. I feel his smile against my lips for the briefest second before he kisses me again, soft and slow, little breathy sounds escaping him.

I lose track of time. There’s just me and him, lost in our own world, kissing. We kiss until my body is shaking, and my boxers are soaked with pre-cum. I have to pull back so I don’t come from the way his tongue slides against mine and the weight of his body pressing into me. Even then, it’s a close call, with me waiting until the last possible second to pull away. My cock jerks hard, unhappy with being denied, as I gently push him off me so I can regain control of myself.

He rolls to his back beside me and lets out a little groan that does nothing to help my situation. “No sex, right?”

I nod. “No sex.” Fuck, those were the hardest words I’ve ever had to say.

“What about… sex-adjacent?”

My brain is half gone with arousal, so it takes me a second to register what he said. When I do, I’m still not sure what he’s talking about. “Explain?”

“What if we jerked off together? Like, I won’t touch you and you won’t touch me.”

Yes. That. Let’s do that . “That feels like cheating the system, Beck,” I force myself to say.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “It’s just that… I haven’t felt this good in a long time. Sex has been all fucked up for me for so long and…” He trails off.

I give him a second to see if he’s going to continue and when he doesn’t, I ask, “And?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. It would be nice to replace some of those bad memories and end a sexual encounter feeling good about myself for once.” His voice is shaky, like he’s about to cry.

His words are like a knife to my heart. Maybe I’ve got this all wrong. Maybe he needs that connection. Maybe it’s not about waiting until we’re solid, but becoming solid together. Fuck, I really don’t want to go back on my word, though. It would be so easy to give in to temptation, but I don’t want our relationship to be based on the physical. I don’t think I can deny him this, though. I don’t want to be the reason he feels hollow again, and if I can fill in some of those holes inside him, shouldn’t I at least try?

I glance over at him. “You won’t touch me and I won’t touch you?”

He turns to look at me, disbelief shining in his eyes. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. God, that guy was right—I really am an asshole.”

“Beck, stop. Trust me when I say it has nothing to do with what I want .”

Tears well in his eyes and he sniffles, “You want to wait, and I’m pressuring you. I’m sorry.”

“Jesus, stop. Please. You’re not pressuring me. I thought it over, and I’m okay with it. I don’t want to be another in a line of people that makes you feel hollow inside.”

“So you’ll feel hollow instead?” he whispers.

My eyes widen as I stare at him. Because holy hell, what wrong turn did we take to get here? I turn on my side and press my lips to his. He sinks into the kiss and rolls to face me. When I pull back, I whisper, “You have never, ever, made me feel hollow. I’d venture to guess there’s no way you could. At least not in any situation like this.” In fact, it’s always been the opposite.

“Promise?” he asks, shaky and scared.

“Yes. I promise, baby.”

He gasps and locks eyes with me. “You’ve never called me that before.”

“No, I guess I haven’t. Sweet pet names were always your thing.”

He drops his eyes. “Not anymore.”

I sigh and pull him toward me. “Come here.” His leg slips between mine, and our bodies press together as I kiss him again. I have no idea how to fix this, but if I can take some of the hollowness from him, I’m damn well going to try.

In no time, my body is right back on edge—my hips rocking against him, moans slipping from my lips. He doesn’t seem any better off, his fingers flexing on my side, gripping tight, his groans vibrating against my chest.

I pull back reluctantly, untangling my limbs from his. “Beck? Are you sure you want to do this? Because I’m gonna be really honest—I can’t kiss you anymore or I’m going to come. Like there’s no way around it.”

“Please. Yes. I want to, but only if you do.”

I turn toward him, careful not to let our bodies touch, and drop my lips back to his. I run my hand down my torso and slip it into my pants, gasping as my fingers make contact with my dick. Beck whines and I feel him shift. I pull back from our kiss and glance down, watching as he exposes his cock—red, swollen, and shiny at the tip. He wraps a hand around it and a pearl of pre-cum oozes out.

“Holy fuck,” I gasp, mirroring his movement as I free my aching cock from the confines of my borrowed sweats. I jerk myself roughly, desperate to come, eyes locked on Beck’s hand moving over his shaft.

He moans, a deep, raspy sound that shoots straight to my cock. My eyes roll back as I explode, cum shooting between us, pleasure tingling down my spine and making my entire body shake.

He gasps out a breathy, “Roman,” and then follows right behind me.

I roll onto my back, my body melting into the mattress, and only the sounds of our ragged breathing fill the room.

“Roman?” he asks, voice timid and quiet, and my stomach drops out. “Can we touch now?”

“Of course.” Before I’m even finished speaking, he’s climbing on top of me, his soft cock brushing against my stomach as sobs rip from his chest. Fuck. Oh fuck. What did I do? I knew I shouldn’t have done this—I fucked everything up.

“Thank you,” he whispers through his tears. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

Confused, I wrap my arms around him, holding him tightly to my body. “Why are you thanking me, baby?”

Another broken sob. “For giving me what I needed. I know you didn’t want to, but I needed that. It’s been so bad for so long, I forgot what good was.”

I sigh and squeeze him tighter, the relief rushing through my body making me a little dizzy. “First off, I did want that. Thinking it’s a good idea to wait to have sex is not the same thing as not wanting to. And second, you scared the absolute shit out of me just now. I thought I did something wrong, so give me a minute to get my heart rate back to normal, and then we can talk some more about it.”

He sniffles loudly, then chuckles. The chuckle turns into full-blown laughter, and within seconds, he’s shaking and crying for an entirely new reason.

“I’m so glad the minor heart attack you gave me is amusing to you,” I say, but before I know it, I’m laughing too. This . This right here is us. This is how we should always be—wrapped up in each other, laughing.

Our laughter tapers off, and he looks up at me, happiness swirling in the blue depths of his eyes. “Fuck, beautiful. That was amazing,” he says with a grin. A buzz I haven’t felt in years ricochets through my body, and my stomach swoops. His eyes go wide, and the smile slides off his face. “Oh. I didn’t mean to say that.”

Ouch. “I should go,” I say, doing my best to keep my face neutral.

“What? Why?” he asks, hurt flashing in his eyes. Ugh, I hate that look. But I’m not sure how to deal with the fact that he called me beautiful and then took it right back. Fuck, that hurts.

I can feel an ache building behind my eyes, a telltale sign that I’m on the verge of crying. And here I thought I was all cried out over Beck. Guess not. I gently push him off me and climb out of bed, quickly swapping out Beck’s sweats for my jeans, trying to avoid eye contact so I won’t break down. I can feel his eyes on me.

“Roman?” His voice is a pained whisper.

“I can’t do this, Beck. I have to go,” I choke out.

“But… you were supposed to stay until eight,” he whispers.

I stop and turn to him. Going back on my word is not earning trust back. But I also know that I can’t let him see me break down. At the end of the day, this is all my fault. Fuck, we could be celebrating a decade of being together if I hadn’t fucked up so badly. My throat tightens with emotion, and I clear my throat, trying to knock the lump loose. Looking into his eyes is a mistake—the devastation in his blue gaze nearly brings me to my knees. He takes a shaky breath, and tears pool at the edges of his lashes, threatening to spill over. My body sways forward, wanting to take care of him.

He opens his mouth, and my heart clenches when his lower lip quivers. Then, in a broken voice, he whispers, “What did I do wrong?”

Fuck me. That expression might be the death of me. I shake my head because I know if I try to speak, all that will come out is a sob.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his lip trembling again. “I didn’t mean to mess it all up.” His voice cracks, and a tear falls from his left eye, slowly tracing a path down his face.

I try to get my shit together so I can speak without breaking down in hysterics, and after a couple of starts and stops, I finally get out, “You didn’t mess it all up.”

“But you’re leaving. I… I don’t want you to leave,” he says, more tears slipping down his cheeks. How am I supposed to leave? The love of my life—the man I never dared hope I’d ever get another chance with—is crying in front of me, telling me he doesn’t want me to go. He sounds so young and vulnerable that an image of a heartbroken eighteen-year-old Beck flashes in my mind, and my heart aches at the thought of doing the same thing to him again.

I have to be honest. Honesty is the only thing that’s going to keep us on the right path. “Fuck. You took it back.”

“Took what back?” he asks, confusion clear on his face.

The pain of that mixes with the sadness radiating from his expression, and makes it impossible to keep my composure. “You called me beautiful, like you used to, and then you… you took it back.” My voice cracks, and tears spill from my eyes.

“Oh God. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry,” he says, his sadness shifting to alarm. Before I can even blink, he’s wrapping me in his arms. I bury my face in his neck, soaking in his warmth, trying not to let the guilt of him comforting me eat me alive inside. I’m the one who messed up. I’m the one who left. I don’t deserve to be comforted. Not by him, not by anyone. And oh fuck, I need to talk to Alexis. That’s a line of thinking I can’t afford to go down. I deserve good things. I deserve good things. I deserve good things.

“You do,” Beck whispers in my ear. “You do deserve good things.”

Of course my inside thoughts would be coming out of my mouth right now. Because that’s all I fucking need. I try to pull away from his embrace, but he tightens his hold. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I wasn’t taking it back. It shocked me that it was so easy for me to fall back into old patterns with you. I’ve been so bad at expressing my emotions since you left, and no one has ever come close to making me feel like the person I was with you. It just… it shocked me how natural and right it felt. I wasn’t taking it back. I promise.”

I’m such a fucking moron. I’m supposed to be the one apologizing. Not him. This is all my fault. A little misunderstanding, and I’m ready to run right back out the door. “I’m the one who’s sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He hums softly, his hand trailing up my back and slipping into my hair. His fingers make small circles on my scalp, and my body sags against him. “I know I haven’t explicitly said it before now, but I want to make things work. I want to be with you. Please, I’m begging you, Roman—talk to me when things get hard. Don’t shut me out like last time. I promise I’ll do the same.”

“I’m not shutting you out,” I whisper.

“You got hurt by something I said, and you were ready to jump ship. That’s shutting me out. And if I’m being honest, that’s kind of a trigger for me.”

I nod against his throat, shame tightening my chest. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

He turns his head and presses a kiss to my temple. “Don’t be sorry. Get your ass back out of those jeans while I change the sheets, and get back in bed. You’re not leaving.”

He drops his hands, and I step back, letting out a startled laugh. “Yes, sir.”

He smiles at me and then turns to strip the sheets off the bed. I drop my jeans and step back into his sweats, checking to make sure they were spared from cum splatter.

Once we’re back in bed, Beck snuggles into my side. This is such a strange turn of events. Before, it was always me taking comfort from him. Me needing him to hold me. Me relying on his strength to make it through. Me needing his words to make me feel worthy of what we had. His voice breaks through my thoughts. “So you still do the affirmations?”

I smile. “Yeah, occasionally. I don’t need them as much anymore, but they help.”

“I started that because I read an article about how you can rewire your brain to think good things about yourself by repeating good things to yourself. I wanted you to feel like you were a good person—because you were. Because you are .”