“You stupid little twat, never let anyone fuck you without a condom.”
”You're not just anyone."

Chapter 3

My Sunshine likes romance. My Sunshine likes flowers, and words whispered softly in his ear, and holding hands, and kisses on his cheek. I’ve done my best since he came back to accommodate that. I’ve done my best to remember to show him little signs of affection, to not hold back, to let him know how I feel. It’s not easy. It’s not something that comes naturally. It’s not something I do every day. But I try to, for him.

So I was ready. I had firewood stacked next to the fireplace. I had a bottle of red wine that was about a hundred years old ready to be poured, and French silk sheets on the bed. I had candles. I did my research. Fire and alcohol and highly flammable fabrics equal romance. Don’t ask me why. It seemed like if we weren’t careful, we could easily burn the house down. But if my Sunshine wanted a fire hazard, he’d get one. Just don’t ask me to understand why that’s romantic.

We were supposed to do it the other night. We were ready. Gus was going to be out, and I had the sheets on the bed, and all I could think about was what we were about to do. Then sonnyboy brought up the fiddler, and all thoughts of fucking Justin raw were gone.

Surprisingly, Sunshine was understanding. I expected him to queen out or get angry that our evening plans of fire and fucking had been ruined, but he wasn’t. He seemed to understand. He didn’t even bring it up.

Then we saw him, and I knew all bets were off. After everything we’d been through, if there was one person who could lure Justin away from me, it was him. I was worried. I knew I should trust him, but I was worried. The fiddler understood things like flammable romantic gestures. He wouldn’t have to TRY to be romantic. He’d just do it.

When Sunshine got home, I made sure to look like I was working. I had paperwork out, I had the news on, and I had my damned reading glasses that I’ve started to need more and more on. But I wasn’t reading. I wasn’t doing anything. I was just sitting there, waiting.

Would he come back looking pink, his lips swollen, all freshly fucked and glowing? Would he come back with that look in his eye that meant he wanted to leave? Would he come back smelling like someone else?

Then he told me how it went. He told me they talked, and the fiddler gave him some bullshit excuse about cheating on him. He told me nothing happened. And then he told me he only wanted me.

I was on top of him before I could think twice about it. I kissed him, and tasted him, and he said he was mine. I asked him. He said yes. He wanted it. He was giving up the fire and the candles and the alcohol. At least I’d put the sheets on just in case, but the rest of the romance was gone. Gus was probably downstairs, watching TV. It wasn’t the picture-perfect romance novel setup that he’d wanted.

But now that it was about to happen, he didn’t want those things. He didn’t want superficial romantic gestures. He just wanted me. And somehow, ironically, that made me understand it. I understood why he’d want this to be romantic. I understood, because in that moment, I felt that overwhelming surge of emotion that I’d tried to ignore for so many years, that Justin made me feel all too often. I felt in love. I felt head-over-heels in love. Because as much as my Sunshine likes candles and flowers and hand-holding, in the end, he’d rather just have me.

And suddenly, romantic gestures didn’t seem so difficult. Suddenly, I wanted to take him slowly. I wanted to kiss every inch of his body. I wanted to make him moan and sigh and whimper and turn ten shades of pink before I took him over the edge. I wanted to savor him. I wanted to make his entire body hum. I wanted to make love to him, though I’d never say it like that out loud. I wasn’t just thinking about how tight, and hot, and wet, and amazing he was going to feel around me anymore. I was thinking about him. I was only thinking about him.

I kissed him, slow and hot, and he tasted incredible. His lips were warm and swollen, and when I brushed my tongue against his it was soft and tasted better than anything I could possibly imagine… except for other parts of his body. He whimpered against my lips and I slid a hand into his hair and he clung to me like he was afraid he’d drown, and I was all that was holding him up.

I knew how that felt.

When I broke the kiss and looked into his eyes, they were a deep blue, and they were glassy, and I just hoped he didn’t start to cry, because I wouldn’t be able to handle that. I started kissing his neck, just below his jaw, and kissed all the way down his throat, over his Adam’s apple, down to his chest, and he shuddered. He shuddered and tightened his arms around me, and I licked him. My tongue ran down the center of his chest slowly, and then to the left to find a nipple. I circled it with my tongue and another shudder ran through his body.

“Brian,” he whimpered, and my cock twitched so hard it was startling. I hadn’t realized how aroused I was. I hadn’t realized that my cock was throbbing, and leaking pre-come on the silk sheets.

I licked over to his right nipple and sucked on it gently, and he arched his back and moaned softly. Then I lifted my head and stared down at him. His lips were parted and red, and he was panting. His entire body was already flushed.

Fuck. We weren’t going to last long, if I didn’t do something about it.

I shifted downwards and wrapped my hand around the base of his cock and he jerked his hips.

“Brian! I… I’ll-“ he started to say, but I shook my head. If I didn’t get us both off once before I pushed into him, we wouldn’t get more than a few seconds before we came. That wasn’t going to happen if I had anything to do with it. I wanted to savor him. I wanted to feel him, really feel him, and enjoy it.

So I ducked my head and wrapped my lips around his leaking cock, and started to suck. I don’t give blowjobs that often, not to completion. They’re a good way to get him aroused, but usually I’d rather have him come with me inside him. But right now, I wanted to taste him. I wanted to lick every inch of his cock, and suck him dry.

It only took a minute before he was coming, his fingers tight in my hair, his back arched, and his hot come pouring into my mouth and he was moaning my name.

I swallowed and licked and sucked him clean, and he was still hard. He was still throbbing. When I looked up, he was panting and writhing, and his entire body was a shade of pink so dark I hadn’t seen him like that in years.

I reached down and touched my own cock, and it twitched hard. I had to come, too. I had to make it last. I started to stroke myself, but he swatted my hand away and grabbed my cock, aiming it at his stomach and chest, and began to stroke.

I wanted to look down at his pale, pink hand stroking my hard cock. Watching him jerk me off was always hot as hell. But I couldn’t rip my gaze from his face. I couldn’t look away from his eyes. Then he lifted his gaze to mine, and that was all it took. I moaned deep in my chest and came hard onto his body. He licked his lips and brought his hand to his mouth, and began licking it clean.

My entire body trembled. Somehow coming hadn’t given me the control I wanted. Instead, it was just a promise of things to come. His gaze never left mine as he licked my come from his hand, and then reached down to smear it across his stomach and chest. He was marked now, on the outside. Now it was time to mark him on the inside.

I finally tore my gaze away from his face, and looked down at his body. Christ, I wanted him. I wanted him now. I couldn’t think anymore. I couldn’t do anything, except spread his legs and reach for the lube.

Then he grabbed my wrist and shook his head.

Fuck. He didn’t want lube? I must have looked confused, because he opened his mouth and whispered, “I don’t need it. I don’t… I only want you.”

And that was it. That was all I could stand. All thoughts of licking and kissing the rest of his body, of burying my tongue in his ass, of hours of foreplay were gone. There was time for that later. Right now, every ounce of self control I had was gone. I had to have him. I had to claim him.

My hands were trembling as I lifted his legs over my shoulders. I stared down at his ass, and spread it, and his hole was red and twitched a few times. I knew I should look into his eyes, but I couldn’t. I had to see it. I had to watch it.

I pressed the tip of my cock against his hole, like I’d done a handful of times in the past few months, wishing that I could thrust in. We’d talked about it over and over on our honeymoon. I’d spread my pre-come over his ass so many times, while he moaned

and told me how much he wanted it, how he couldn’t wait, how he wanted to fill him up.

But now that it was about to happen, he was silent. I was silent. There wasn’t a sound in the room.

Then I pushed in.

I watched as the tip of my cock disappeared in his ass, and he clenched down around it, and dug his fingernails into my shoulders, and shuddered, and he let out a moan that was hungry and needy and helpless.

I froze, and sucked in a deep breath. I watched as his hole clamped down over and over around me. And I felt it.

Heat. So much heat. And the texture… fuck. He was soft, and I could feel the rings of muscle, and every detail. And he was tight… so fucking tight. I could feel it all.

I felt a shudder go down my spine as he clamped down again, and then he said it.

“More,” he gasped, and that was the end of all conscious thought.

I thrust into him the rest of the way, until I was completely buried inside him, and he clawed at me, and his legs tightened around my shoulders, and I lifted my gaze to his face, and we stared into each other’s eyes.

Then there was just heat, and friction, and the sound of his gasps and mewls and the smell of sex and sweat. Each thrust was slow, and purposeful. I don’t know how long we fucked. It might have been hours. It was probably only a couple of minutes.

His eyes were dark, almost black, and I thought fleetingly of the first time I was inside him, and how he’d been then, and how I’d felt that first time, and how I’d tried to ignore it. I saw the seventeen year old boy who followed me home, and the beautiful, strong man he’d become at the same time. And I felt it. I felt a connection to him, like a magnet, like every time I pulled out, thrusting in was impossible to resist.

And then it happened.

I came.

I was blinded with white light, and the shudder that went through my body was so intense I couldn’t breathe. And then I shot into him. And I felt it. I felt his ass clamp down so tight around me it almost hurt, and I felt my hot, thick come coat him, and pour into him, and then I felt him shudder.

He moaned my name so loudly it was practically a scream, and he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked, and I didn’t even feel the pain. I just froze, buried completely within him, feeling the heat inside of him spread, and watched as his come shot across his chest and hit his face.

There was a moment, then, where neither of us were breathing, or moving, or saying a word. We were suspended, just for a moment, and stared into each other’s eyes, and the feeling of being this connected was almost too much.

Then I inhaled, breathing in the hot, thick, hormone-filled air of the room loudly, and he did the same.

His body trembled as I lowered his legs, and his hands slid down my arms.

“Brian,” he whispered.

“Justin,” I echoed back. I couldn’t think of what to say. I couldn’t think at all.

I looked down slowly pulled out of him. I don’t know what I expected to see, but it wasn’t this. My cock was slick with come, and barely softening, and red. And then I was completely out, and I spread his legs, and he tensed, and a drop of come dripped out of him, and ran down his ass.

And I was gone again. I heard someone growl, distantly, and it must have been me. I grabbed his hips and rolled him onto his stomach and spread his ass, and ran a fingertip over his bright red hole.

More come leaked out of him, and my entire body hummed with need.

“Brian-“ he gasped, and spread his legs further, arching his back.

I didn’t think. I couldn’t. I just spread him, and started to lick. I ran my tongue from just behind his balls, up to his swollen, sensitive hole, and licked my come away. He shuddered and mewled and clawed at the sheets, and I heard them rip, and I didn’t care.

It was the most incredible thing I’d ever tasted. It was me. It was him. It was pure lust. I licked, and sucked and thrust my tongue into him. I had to hold his hips with a white-knuckle grip to keep him still, because I wasn’t going to let him go, not until I had every drop of it, not until I’d tasted everything he had.

When he was whimpering and shuddering, and the rip in the sheets had extended halfway down the bed, I lifted my head and licked my lips. He was staring at me over his shoulder and he shuddered visibly.

“Brian,” he gasped. “Please… again…”

I was inside him before he could brace himself, and this time there was no slow, savoring of sensations. This time it was hot, and fast, and rough, and moans, and screams and clawing, and scratching, and biting, and thrusting in, in, in, in…

I came quickly. I moaned so loudly it hurt my throat, and filled him up again with my come, and he shuddered and shot onto the sheets, arching his back so far it was a wonder he didn’t break his spine.

We froze like that, trembling, drenched in sweat, and then I was done.

Without pulling out, I wrapped my arms around him, and rolled onto my side, spooning him. Tonight I didn’t have to pull out. Tonight I didn’t have to throw a condom out, worrying about diseases and hurting him.

Tonight I was going to stay inside him all night.

I yanked the covers over us, and he pressed back against me completely. I buried my face in his hair, wet and sticky with sweat, and inhaled.

He didn’t say anything. I don’t think he could. He was gone. And in the reflection of the dark window across from us, I could just see his face. He was crying. It was only a little, but he still was.

My chest tightened, and I brushed my fingers over his face, and he inhaled a shuddering breath. I tightened my arms around him, and he clamped down around my cock again, and I nuzzled my face into the back of his head.

“I love you,” I said, and my throat was so raw, and I was so tired, it sounded just like it had the first time I said it. And like the first time, I didn’t say it because I had to. I didn’t say it because it would make him happy, or make him stay. I said it because it was true.