The shakes started in my shins, of all places. Each step I took, I could feel my legs trembling until it worked its way up my thighs and past my groin, where it settled in my stomach like so much poison. I felt weak. Sweaty. Gross. Vince didn’t seem to notice, but then he was a man on a mission.
Vince’s bedroom was just as sparse as the rest of the house. An expensive-looking bed sat in the middle, unmade, the white sheets and comforter in disarray. He turned and closed the door behind us. I didn’t know why—he lived alone.
He turned to me, his cock against
my clothed thigh as he pushed me against the closed door. He started rubbing himself against me, and never even in my wildest imagination could I have ever thought something like that would happen. My frayed nerves quieted momentarily as a surge of lust shot through me at the idea of me being fully clothed and him naked. It made me feel stronger. Braver.
He attacked my mouth again and made this happy little sound as his tongue found mine. I tentatively reached my hands up and pressed them against his back, the skin warm and strong under my fingers. His piercing scraped against the fabric on my shirt and it was like a line of fire across my chest.
Then he put his hands on the hem of my shirt and started to pull it up. I panicked and grabbed his hands, forcing him to stop. He pulled away from me, a surprised look on his face.
“You okay?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
He tried to move his hands, but I wouldn’t let him.
“Paul?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I just….”
He kissed me, his nose rubbing against mine. “You scared?” he whispered.
I let out a shaky breath. “You could say that.”
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I would never rush you.”
“I know.” I couldn’t help but sound annoyed.
“Then what is it?”
“You.”
“Me?”
I struggled for words that wouldn’t make me sound insane. “You… look at you. You’re fucking perfect. Every inch of you is perfect.”
He smiled shyly, looking away. “You like the way I look?”
“Yes,” I said roughly. “Yes. I like the way you look.” I gripped him tighter.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said quietly. He leaned forward, still caught by my hands, and kissed my shoulder. “It’s real, okay? I promise you it’s real.”
I was embarrassed by the way my eyes burned, and I looked away. He kissed his way up my shoulder, biting gently into the tendon and muscle near the base of my neck. He dragged his tongue up until his nose bumped my jaw. And then he kissed me again. During the moments it took him to complete this simple action, he never tried to move his hands from my hold on him, and he never tried to push until there was more that I couldn’t give. He waited. He waited until I would either let him continue or push him away. And if I did push him away, if I did say no, I knew that he wouldn’t judge me, he wouldn’t snap at me harshly. He would accept it as he had so far and wait until I made the decision for myself.
And what, really, was I waiting for? The only thing between him and me was me. I could get it over with now instead of wondering forever what could have happened.
He must have seen he had calmed me down when I met his eyes again because when he kissed me, it was instantly a dirty thing, nibbling on my bottom lip with his teeth, stretching it slightly then chasing it again as he let go. Through it all, his eyes remained open and on mine, so close to each other that I could make out myself in the reflection.
This wasn’t going to be an easy thing. There wasn’t going to be some miraculous fix. I was still scared shitless, but I was tired of being that way. I was tired of waiting. I was tired of wondering. I didn’t want to do that anymore, at least not with him.
I let go of his hands.
He kept them at his sides for a moment, as if making sure I wouldn’t grab them again or push him away from me. He widened his eyes imperceptibly when I reached out and grasped his waist. Then his eyes fluttered closed as I kneaded the skin.