Chapter Thirty-One

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Chapter Thirty-One

APOV

I never really understood what the big deal about sex was.  Really.  I mean, I had it more than most people probably ever had it, in more ways and positions and weirdo fucking shit than they could imagine, either.  A guy got hard.  He put it in.  There were a few motions and it was over.  What was the big deal about that?  It was over before it even started.  There was panting and grunting and some muscles tightened and then…it was done.  It was over.  Big fucking deal. 

I was wrong. 

I was so wrong. 

I was so unbelievably wrong.

But then I never had Tyler before either…

We had sex four times.  He was sleeping now, sprawled out on his stomach, his head turned towards me, mouth open a tiny bit.  I was sitting with my back against the wall, and I was just sort of left thinking about the greatness of it all.  It sort of seemed unreal; like I wasn’t sure it had really happened. The entire night had been such a clusterfuck of a mess.  To have it end this way… I just hadn’t thought this would be the way this whole thing would turn out. 

He was adorable when he slept, and he was sleeping really hard right now.  He hadn’t moved at all since we finished our last round, not even when I kept running my fingers through his messy hair.  It came to a peak right at the nape of his neck, and I couldn’t seem to stop my fingers from playing with it.  I think we lost the blanket sometime around rounds two or three, and all that was left was the sheet now, tangled in sections around one of his legs.  His other leg was almost hanging off the bed; his arms were stuffed under the pillow, under his head.  I smirked as my eyes started to take in the view, wandering from his arms, drawn to his bare back, freckles and birthmarks making a zigzag pattern down until they disappeared after the dip in his lower back.  His ass was seriously distracting.  Inviting.  Fuck, he was attractive.  Strong thighs after the perfect ass.  I couldn’t decide if the thought of my hands on his ass, pulling him forward into me was more distracting, or the thought of his thighs pressing into mine, forcing my legs wider as he went deeper.  Both, I decided.  He needed to wake up soon.  

Never imagined that this would be what I would be thinking about now.  Hadn’t planned to be smoking my way through his cigarettes, wired but incredibly happy and satisfied.  Not a few hours ago.  It seemed like it’d been a much longer time span since I ran out of my place.  I think I was on auto-pilot, like a zombie, all the way to Tyler’s apartment.  I don’t remember anything being in my mind but the idea that I needed to get to Tyler. 

It wasn’t that I thought he’d make everything better, even if he wound up doing that.  It wasn’t that I thought he even could; I just needed him to hold me.  And that I had anywhere to go at all was a first.  I never had that before; someone I could go to that I knew was going to be there for me.  Someone that cared.  Someone whose opinion of me wouldn’t be fucked over completely by what had happened. 

He was always unexpected.  And I was still surprised by that.  He wasn’t perfect, but when the chips were down, he always came through.  I don’t think a lot of people knew that about him.  But since we started this relationship that was one thing I never really worried about.  I knew he’d be there.  What he did though, or how he reacted, that was usually unexpected for me.  I knew he’d hold me.  I knew he’d want to know what happened and want to protect me.  The level of it though, how he took complete care of me and erased everything he possibly could, that was more than I expected. 

The entire landlord shit was one of those things that sort of blindsided me.  I hadn’t seen him coming, and I think a lot of it was because I lost the edge of everything coming to New York.  When I wasn’t hooking anymore, my radar didn’t have to be as sharp as it had been.  I had a steady job, I had steady money; I didn’t have to fight tooth and nail for everything I needed.  Or at least not as hard as I had to before.  And I think it make me sloppy.  It wasn’t really a bad thing, to be comfortable, but it did make me less aware.  Coming to Tyler the way I did, spilling my guts about what happened and then laying it on him that I’d been a hooker—I’m sure that was the blindside of all time. 

Except, it hadn’t been.  The landlord thing threw him; I knew it did.  He was keeping himself under control for me, because I needed him, but I knew he was angry about it.  I knew he felt like he hadn’t protected me, even if that was the dumbest fucking thing I heard—there was no way he could protect me all the time, and I didn’t need him to.  But my admitting that I’d been a hooker hadn’t surprised him at all.  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that at first.  I thought he just wasn’t getting it, or in denial or something, but he really wasn’t shocked, or pissed, or anything.  He didn’t dump me, or throw me out, or yell and call me every name he could think of for a whore.  Instead, he told me that it didn’t change anything between us, and it was part of my past. 

I must not have hid it as well as I thought I did.  Or maybe it was really obvious, and I just didn’t know.  I suppose it was sort of easy to figure out if you actually got to know me at all.  The topics I avoided, the bits and pieces of my past that I shared with him, the off-limits and turtle-pace of our sex life…probably was pretty easy to put together.  I still don’t know why I told him then.  If he would have been a different guy that would have been the end—maybe I just wanted it all over at once if it was going to go that way; rip the Band-Aid off and just crumble so I only had to pull myself together again once. 

The truth still was that I’d never be a normal girl; I was just lucky that Tyler didn’t seem to find that a problem. 

I’m not sure exactly when I decided sex was a good idea right then.  I mean, of course I’d been thinking about it forever, and if it was the right time, when the right time was; all that shit.  I couldn’t explain what made me say it then, when he was going off to get me something else to wear; I just knew it was right.  I wasn’t afraid anymore.  And I think it was because I knew everything was out in the open and he still accepted me anyway.  There wasn’t anything else huge for me to tell him—the hooker thing was always what I figured the deal-breaker was.  So there was nothing else to hide.  And nothing stopping me.  

His concern over my decision sealed the deal if there was anything lingering.  Because most guys would have just jumped at the chance to get laid, but he still asked me if I was making this choice for the right reasons, and if I was going to have regrets.  Like I could ever regret anything with him.  

And for the first time, I really wanted to have sex for me.  Not because someone else wanted to get off, or wanted to pay me, or wanted to use me.  I wanted to have sex with Tyler simply because I could.  What a small and huge revelation.  

Right then, I hadn’t really had time to think about it much—mostly because of the wave of panic that tore through me after I thought we were go for sex, and then he said he wouldn’t fuck me—but Tyler had separated fucking from what he wanted to do.  I always thought making love was a really stupid fucking term.  What the fuck did that even mean?  Making love.  It sounded so fucking lame, and boring.  It sounded like a fucking romantic comedy or something.  I didn’t really think I wanted that.  I wanted to feel Tyler.  I wanted him to fuck me.  I didn’t want some slow and steady, unexciting routine sex.  Of course, I would have agreed to just about anything at that point, just out of the need to have him at all when I made this decision.  

What did that mean if we were making love?  What did it mean that he wanted to with me?  That he didn’t just want to fuck me.  I mean, I got that we had more than just fucking required.  We had a relationship and emotions and intimacy.  But…did making love mean that he was saying something else?  Were you in love to make love?  Ugh.  The term still just made me twitch.  It was just not something I was used to, or comfortable with.  It sort of made me uneasy.  Which was stupid, because we were fucking regardless of what you called it.  I didn’t know what being in love felt like.  I didn’t know what you were supposed to feel when you were in love.  And how the fuck did I find that out?  If you never experienced something before, how do you know you have it?  

Really, out of all the sex shit we tried already, the part that we hadn’t wasn’t really all that huge.  I mean, it was.  It was completely different, but I wasn’t sure why I had such a hang up about this one part that we hadn’t.   

He was always really fucking attentive.  Always.  This was like attentive times fifty.  I don’t think he left anything untouched or un-kissed.  I came three fucking times before we even really had sex.  I was so wet by that third time, and I don’t think I ever wanted him that badly before.  And he still asked me one last time if I was sure.  And if I backed out then, and changed my mind, I knew he would have stopped and told me it was fine, and we would have just gone back to whatever was before this.  But I wasn’t freaking out, and I knew this was what I wanted.

I figured out the answer to why I had the hang up, why this small part was so different the minute he started pushing inside me.  He was looking at me.  He was watching me.  He was seeing me.  His eyes never left mine, and the way he was looking at me, so careful about everything, and concerned, and everything pouring out of his eyes into mine.  Jesus Fucking Christ.  It made me feel so many things.  The sheer power of the emotions themselves were sort of overwhelming.  Just feeling that much, period, was overwhelming.  On top of that, what he made me feel was so...real, and good.  It was beyond anything I ever imagined it to be.  And that was just the first push.  I’d forgotten what it felt like, the feeling of the head of a cock pushing in, the extra push as the ridge pushed past, the fullness.  The difference was that he cared about me, that this wasn’t just for him, and I got the impression that it was more for me right now.  

He was so fucking gentle to start.  Like I’d break if he went too fast or too hard.  Like I hadn’t taken that before.  But again, he didn’t want to force me to take anything.  It was more like accepting him, which was just odd for me to even think about.  I felt…possessed, but not in the way that I had as a hooker; it was completely different because I felt like I was his, but he was mine, too.  And it was really fucking weird to realize that on the physical level, but on some emotional one, too.  All I could feel was warmth.  And him.  Like it was the same thing.  It felt like my pussy was on fire and it was spreading out slowly from there all over my body, tingles all over.  

It was almost like a wave of panic when he started to back up.  I knew he was only doing it to move back again, but he’d only just pushed in and I already never wanted him to leave.  What was amazing was that watching him, I think he felt the same way, so he was pushing back again just as quickly, and just as deeply.  I wanted him as far inside me as he could go, and I hoped that the way I basically clung to him wasn’t completely overbearing and desperate.  He didn’t seem to mind; and in fact, he never really moved away again.  And I loved that this closeness that we had didn’t mean he was going slow, or gentle.  After the initial push; no, we weren’t fucking, but this definitely wasn’t lame or boring, so if lovemaking was this, then this was fucking awesome.  

He didn’t say anything.  Not the whole time, and I wouldn’t have been able to say anything back anyway, so I was glad that he didn’t.  I could feel what he would have said in the way he was thrusting anyway.  And I hoped that he could feel it back.  I think he could.  

I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect with coming.  I never came during sex at all, ever.  And I didn’t know if coming with him would feel the same way it did when I got off myself.  I knew how I liked it; I knew what would get me off.  This was different.  It felt different.  It felt better because it was with him, but I didn’t really know if I should get myself off with him, too, or if he did that part.  I didn’t really want to move to do it myself.  I kind of wanted him to do it.  Then he shifted, pushing more weight on me, and it was like he was a fucking mind reader, because I could basically rub my clit up into him then and sparks of pleasure just exploded every time I did.  It sort of shocked me when the orgasm actually hit.  It felt the same, but still completely different.  And the build had been so gradual, that it felt so much more… Just more.  Everywhere.  I closed my eyes for a second; the only time during the entire thing I did, and forced them open again because I felt like I might miss something else, and that wasn’t happening anymore.  I knew he was coming, too, and it sort of annoyed me that I felt so much because watching his was almost as good as my own, but I sort of couldn’t make the feeling stop.  It was just coursing through me.  

And then it sort of hit me.  All that time.  I felt cheated.  That it’d taken this long for someone to make me feel this way.  That I’d been robbed of it for so long before.  But mostly I just felt grateful.  That someone had given enough of a shit to want to give it to me.  That he cared at all.  That he made me feel cared for.  

He didn’t say it.  He didn’t mention love.  And I was actually really glad he didn’t.  Because I was already dealing with too many emotions, and him admitting that, too… I didn’t know what to say back.  I mean, if this feeling was love, then, yes.  But I didn’t know what to call this.  And I didn’t want to ask him now either.  Because somehow I also turned into this weepy, clingy, needy…ugh, thing.  I didn’t even know what to call it, but it was so not normal.  I felt…weak.  And I think I started apologizing at one point, somewhere around where he pulled out gently and rolled us over.  

He just kept whispering to me, his mouth right by my ear, his arms not even allowing me to move away if I would have wanted to.  “You don’t have anything to apologize for.  This is a lot.  This is a lot even if you’ve had it with other people before.  You’re not weak.  You’re just finding out what you were missing.  And it’s ok to feel however you want about that.  You can be pissed; you should be pissed.  It fucking sucks that it’s been this long and you’ve never had this.  And I’m so happy that you let me be the one to have it with you.  You don’t have to be strong all the time.  That’s what I’m here for.  I’ve got you.”

I have no idea how long he spent just whispering like that, but it felt like a long time.  When I finally looked up at him again, he still asked if I was ok first.  I don’t know if it was a lifetime of shit that brought him into my life, or maybe he was just extremely unlucky, but now that I had him, I wasn’t letting him go.  

And I wanted him all over again.  I wanted to feel it all again.  I wanted to feel everything again.  And I wanted to be the one to make him feel it.

“Can we do it again?”

I think he was surprised that was my first comment.  But after he told me to stay on top, my next one made him smile even more.  “That was the most amazing fucking thing ever.”

“Nice choice of words.”

“No, really,” I insisted.

He nodded quickly. “No, I know.  It was.  Completely.  Amazing.”

“The most fucking amazing.  Ever.”  I clarified.

“Yes,” he agreed. “The most fucking amazing.  Ever.”

I leaned down to kiss him, and he was going to sit up with me, but I pushed my hand against his chest, shaking my head.  “No, you stay there.”

He relaxed back again, and I kissed him a second time, slowly, letting it draw out until both of us had our eyes closed, and then we were basically fucking with our mouths.  I don’t think our self-control was going to last as long with this one.  

I rested my forehead against his when we stopped, savoring the feeling of closeness that washed over me.  I got that feeling a lot with him, and I wondered if I’d feel it even more now.  I backed up, hands on his chest and honestly, sort of just grinned down at him, lost in the moment.  It wasn’t like he wasn’t grinning right back me, the smug motherfucker.  

I’m sure we looked like complete grinning idiots.  I shook out of it, getting back to business.  “We need a new condom.  Where are they?”

He nodded to the nightstand. “Drawer.”

“How many you got in there?” I asked, smirking.

He smirked back, his hands just above my hips, thumbs rubbing back and forth.  “I think there’s plenty in there.”

“You sure about that?” I asked, leaning over to open the drawer, his hands shifting to steady me.

“If you wanna be that insatiable, we can just get more.  I think what’s in there will last two, three days the way we’re going.”

I giggled as I took another one out; popping the wrapper in my mouth for a second while I leaned back on his legs to change the condom.  When I looked up at his face, he had this lazy smirk on his face, his hands folded under his head.  

“What?”

He shook his head slowly. “Nothing.  I’m just really enjoying watching you do that.”

I snorted at him, tying off the old one and dropping it in the trashcan next to the nightstand.  

I sat back on his legs, amused that he was already half-hard, and I only had to stroke him a few times to get him completely hard to roll the new condom on.  I moved up his body then so I was sitting on his hips, but didn’t put him back inside yet.  I wasn’t teasing exactly.  I’d call it appreciating.  Appreciating back.  I liked watching his reactions from this angle.  I leaned over him, my palms pressing into his collarbones, hands curling around his shoulders and really enjoyed the feeling of him under my fingers.  I traced the length of his collarbones with my thumbs before running my fingers down his chest lightly.  I skimmed back up and then raked my nails down the same path, smiling at the way goosebumps broke out all over his chest.  And I think he was kinda ticklish.  At least to the raking.  So I did it again.  And then one more time until I chuckled at him and he was half-smiling/half-squirming away from me.  

It got no better when I dropped down then and sucked on his nipple, raking my nails down his sides.  He legit stopped me after that, but I kinda couldn’t seem to stop.  I was already too hooked on what I could make him feel.  It wasn’t a power thing.  It was just that he was so…real.  His reactions were real.  That’s what I loved about it.  So I basically turned him into a twitchy mess while making a nonstop loop of flicking, licking and sucking on his nipples with different ways of raking my nails or feathering my fingertips over his chest.  I might have started trailing the sucking and nipping up to his neck and jaw, licking over the rough stubble he was sporting, too.  

I gave in when he was all breathless and “JesusFuckAllisonPlease.”  Twice.  

I think I had about the hugest shit-eating grin on my face, and it wasn’t like he was upset; he just wanted me to get the fuck on with it.  And at that point, I really couldn’t argue with that.  

I reached back and held onto his cock while I started to lower myself.  I had to fight with myself not to just drop on him, but I kinda wanted this to be as slow as the first had been.  The stretching feeling was no different when he entered this time.  I couldn’t decide on a word for the feeling.  Just the feeling of the head of his cock alone—I felt so sensitive.  Raw, but in the best way.  

Once he was inside all the way, the fullness was almost like a punch to the gut.  It felt total.  

I rode him slowly, hands spread over his chest, no more teasing, just moving on him, experimenting with the directions, how he felt inside me when I moved back and forth, or bent over him more, how he shifted and hit different spots when I changed to circle my hips.  

I started pulling my knees in when I pulled off of him, relaxing them completely so he pushed back in faster and harder.  The sounds he made were amazing.  Grunting and panting and moans—his hands would stay at my hips and knead and then be on my tits the next second, and he always meet my eyes when he did it like he was asking permission or checking if it was ok.  I didn’t want that anymore—I hoped that he would lose that—I wanted him to know that whatever he did was ok, and that he didn’t need to ask if it was ok, silently or otherwise.  I became fascinated with where his hands would be depending on what I was doing.  How they’d change their grip, how he’d flex his fingers, how he’d pull me into him and caress over my skin.  

He shifted his legs out when I started moving faster, his knees pulling up to support me, his hands roaming up my back, and when he started to thrust up, I let go of his chest, trailing my hands up to my hair, and basically, I totally started bouncing on his cock.  From the sounds he was making, he liked it a whole fucking lot, and if he hadn’t figured it out by then, he definitely got the idea that this one was for him.  His eyebrows would pull down in the most adorable way when something felt really good, a moan tumbling out never far behind.

I wanted to be closer again.  I rolled forward, leaning until I was pressed against him, arms framing his head, hands fisting in the sheets.  Everything sounded louder; the wet sounds of the thrusting, his moans mixing with mine, heavy breathing.  This position was so fucking awesome.  The way I could control how far he went, the direction, the way I could grind down onto his cock.  His knees kept pressing up into me to keep me bouncing on him, his body getting tense, me shifted so high on him that I was riding my clit into him.  And while everything was loud and amazing and tense, the feeling of his hand on the small of my back was almost the most noticeable thing for me.  It was solid; so solidly him.

The closer we got, the more I wanted to press into him.  I kept squeezing his cock, tilting my hips so that both of our thrusts were small, and tight, his really inconsistent before he came, just letting me finish it.  I felt him come so much more than I had the first time, maybe because I was able to be more focused on him from the start.  The connection even after we slowed again was—it wasn’t completeness or shit like that.  I mean, yes, there was a feeling of just, sort of, the end, but that wasn’t what I meant really either.  That sounded final, and that wasn’t what it felt like.  It was just the thing that I’d wanted most with someone, with him; and now I had it.  Belonged.  I felt like I belonged here.  I felt like I belonged with him.  

I was leaning over him, watching, and his hands came up to my face, his touch gentle, guiding me down to his mouth.  I loved two things about this: the kiss was sloppy, and shaky, and he looked like how I always felt with him, and his hips kept pushing up into me like he still wanted more.  It was amazing to feel that wanted.  

I rested my forehead against his as we caught our breath.  I couldn’t place the look in his eyes, but I didn’t ask him about it.  He moved his hand to my hair, combing it back.  “Did you come?”

I shook my head against his a few times, our foreheads still pressed together.  “I don’t think so.”

He smiled. “You don’t think so?”

“No.” I shook my head again, kissing him quickly.  “I think… I dunno what happened really.”

“Did we stop too soon?”

“No.” More head-shaking.  “I mean, I think whatever was gonna happen…did.”

He blinked at me a few times. “Ok… So is that good or bad?”

I chuckled, backing up and kissing the end of his nose.  “It was good.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“I don’t like good.”

“But you just asked me if it was good or bad.  It wasn’t bad.  At all.”

“But ‘good’ is not ‘the most fucking amazing, ever.’”

I smiled, touching his cheek. “I don’t think it’s always supposed to be the most fucking amazing, ever.”

“But I want it to be.”

I can’t even… I was in a parallel universe.  I mean, he was being sweet, and unrealistic, and a dork, but he was also totally serious.  I had to clear my throat and just wait a minute because I was all fucking emotional in the two seconds it’d taken him to say that to me.  And I tried to explain better after pulling myself back together.  “It’s not… It felt great.  It’s just different.  I don’t think it was the same kind that I’m used to.  Just not as direct or something.  And I really didn’t care.  At all.  I wanted to watch you.  I wanted to see you come.  It was really warm, and just not as powerful, I don’t think.  But it was still really fucking great.  Ok?”

He nodded slowly. “Ok.”

I nodded once back. “Ok.”

He started sitting up, shifting me off of him, but still holding onto me.  I chuckled while I followed with him, hooking my arm around his neck for balance.  He hadn’t even fully sat up all the way and he was flailing for the nightstand drawer.  I couldn’t help it; I burst out laughing.  “Again?”

“Yeah, again.  This’ll be better for you.  I can make it better.”

I touched his cheek, making him look at me.  “Tyler, it doesn’t need to get better.  It was amazing.  And I don’t need to come every time.  I wanted that for you.”

He nodded; I don’t think he really even listened.  “Right.  Good.  And this’ll be better.”

I snorted, running my fingers down his face.  “Did you hear me at all?”

“Yeah, I did.  Don’t need to come every time.  Wanted me to.  Now it’s my turn.  For you.”

“Is this a contest I don’t know about?”

“Nope.  ‘Cause I’m not gonna lose again.”

I giggled at him.  He was smirking though, so I think he was only half serious.  He handed me the new condom, removing the other one himself and tossing it in the trash.  

“Is this my job now?” I asked, smirking.

He shrugged. “Feels better when you do it.  If you want the job, it’s yours.”

“Not that I’m complaining,” I started, rolling the new one on, “but if you wanna take a break, I think that’s legal.”

He scoffed. “Did you just insult my masculinity while putting a condom on me?”

I laughed. “No.  I just mean, we can… We don’t have to just keep… We can stop fucking for a while.”

He met my eyes. “Allison, we haven’t started fucking.”

“Oh.”

He smirked. “I’ll pass out later.  You wanna go again?”

I nodded, shifting to take him in again, letting him guide me down.  

I already decided, I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of the feeling of him pushing inside me now.  And the way he pulled me closer the second he was inside, it made it seem almost closer than we had been the first time.  

Being that close kinda scared me a little bit.  Because there was nothing left to hide.  And there was nowhere left for me to hide really even if I wanted to.  I mean, I didn’t, but knowing that the place to hide was gone was sort of scary.  He knew enough to be dangerous before; now he could be a fucking wrecking ball.  

I wasn’t sure why I was even scared—he lost whatever he had to hide with, too—so we were in the same boat, and he didn’t seem to be scared of any of it.  It was freeing in a way, too.  Just to know that someone else was there even with knowing everything.  

I think he picked up on my moment of whatever it was, because his hands had moved from my sides up around my back, pulling me even fucking closer like there was anywhere left for me to go.  “You ok?”

So fucking perceptive.  That was the annoying side of not being able to hide.  Fucker seemed to know everything.  He ducked his head a bit, but he was still catching my eye line.  

Yeah, it was the eyes that did it.  All the time.  Because he never hid anything with them to start with.  They were always open, and readable, and talking whether he opened his mouth or not.  I should like this.  I should like whatever that was in his eyes.  I did like it.  It was just… I nodded, managing a, “Yeah,” with the nod.  He didn’t let me duck away, and after a few more seconds, I really didn’t care anymore.  I just let myself get lost there.

He was right; this position was like constant clit action.  And pretty much all we were doing so far was rocking back and forth.  I started out sort of kneeling and straddling, but I stopped him for a second to curl my legs around him instead.  He smiled this incredibly adorable smile when I came back down on him, and I mean, how could I not want to be close to him?  

It was sort of an awkward motion; and definitely something I had not done before, and I was pretty sure he was doing more of the work than I was, but we worked out this kind of thrusting thing, where he lifted my hips and pulled me towards him and I could push against him.  At the end of each one, he’d stop for a minute so I could grind against him before pulling back again.  The feeling of grinding on him with him so far inside me like that was fuck-awesome.  

He felt incredibly deep the entire fucking time.  Even with the grinding and the thrusting; it was still more like rocking than fucking.  And it felt like I could feel everything—I don’t even know what the fuck that meant—but it was just the only thing that kept playing in my head.  We were completely wrapped in each other.  His arms around me, his fingers running up my back until they got lost in my hair, still pulling me closer.  Always closer.  

His breath was hot and it felt like it spread all over us.  His mouth was right next to mine, but it was like we couldn’t even be torn away from watching each other long enough to kiss at the moment, and I realized the heat was less him, and more the mixing of our breathing.  It felt like we were standing in the steam from a shower, fogging up the bathroom mirror.  

I couldn’t keep my hands from griping at him, like it was some automatic reaction to him always pulling me closer; I couldn’t stop urging him to fucking do it.  I kept combing through his hair and tugging on the ends—it was like all I could feel were fingers; his moving, griping, holding; my fingertips sliding against his skin, and the fullness of him inside me.

The heat kind of reminded me of a strobe light, just waves of intensity, flashes, and I came grinding my clit into him, my hands gripping his neck and shoulders, feeling his cock throbbing in me.  The last thing I noticed before I came was that the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck were damp.  And I felt completely safe.  

I kinda liked finishing first.  And he really liked me all clinging and hands-y.  I could tell he was close, but it took him a few minutes to get there, and we basically got to switch roles, and all I wanted to do was pull him closer.  Maybe I got it then, whatever it was.  The need, the intimacy of it.  I kissed him when I knew he was just on the edge, shoving my tongue in his mouth, and his hands dropped to my ass, grabbing me and pulling me into him while shoving his hips up at the same time.  This throbbing was at a completely different level than before; pulsing while he held me to him and finished.  It was the first time I thought about sex without a condom, and realized I wanted that feeling with him, too.  

We sat just connected there, kissing, and wrapped up in each other for a long time.  It was gentle, and sweet, and I was surprised by how soothing it felt.  I could have fallen asleep there; just dropped my head to his shoulder and drifted off.  

“You can sleep here.”

Shit.  I said that out loud.  “Mmm.”

He let out this really soft noise that sounded a little like a laugh, but I think he was trying to be quiet if I really wanted to sleep.  And somehow I wound up with my head on his shoulder with no memory of how I’d gotten there.  Maybe I had fallen asleep for a while without realizing.  

He was still holding me; I was all tucked into him, and it felt like more than just his arms were wrapped around me; like the best fucking blanket.  His breathing was even and slow, and I could feel the heat from his breath against my neck and upper back.  I nuzzled into his shoulder, pressing a kiss into his skin.  Goosebumps broke out all over my body as his fingers fanned out on my back.  

He shifted, and one hand pressed into my lower back, and then he was moving us, and even with me hooking my legs around him, I expected a much faster and rougher drop to the bed, but he managed to make the transition really fucking smoothly, and gently, never moving from inside me.  And I think I was quite possibly even clingier than any of the other times, because it was just something I never expected to have.  I wasn’t used to gentle, period, and position changes weren’t ever that…natural.  I liked the feeling of him inside me during the switch, and the way the fullness just expanded when he pressed me into the bed, his mouth attached to mine before my head ever hit the pillow.  

It was sort of mind-blowing to me to have sex at all that didn’t immediately require movement, too.  He was happy to just hold me for however long I dozed on him, and now, again, to just stay inside me while we basically made out like teenagers, and I really fucked up his hair beyond any resemblance of order, ever.  I didn’t know if any of his hair would ever lay flat again.  It was so obviously more than just sex to him, and I had to be careful not to think about that too much right now, because I think I’d been emotional enough for one night with him.  

I sighed in what was probably the most content way I ever felt when he broke the kissing for a minute, smiling this lazy and soft, happy kind of smile at me.  “One second,” he said against my lips, kissing me once more before backing up.  

And I kind of… I didn’t freak out exactly, I just didn’t want him to move, I didn’t want him out of me, and I sort of made that well known with the noise I made—the one that sounded much less pathetic in my head.  The added grabby hands might have been pushing it, too.  

He didn’t stop, easing out of me gently, but he bent back over me and kissed me again. “I know, baby, it’ll only take a second.”

I let out a much more frustrated noise.

He chuckled. “It fucking sucks being the responsible one, believe me.  I’d rather just keep going, too.”

I mean, I really had no complaints; he changed the condom lightning-fast, but it was just the idea that he had to go anywhere at all, and what a fucking switch, that I was not the responsible one.  I wondered if that should have bothered me—if the thought that I would have let him just keep going was a good thing or not.  But then he was back between my legs, and pushing inside again, and I really didn’t give a shit.  

He started gentle, and slow, like the first time had been, and then somewhere in the middle of it, it just got less serious.  It wasn’t like we weren’t serious; it just wasn’t about the same emotions of the first one, I don’t think.  And it sort of turned into this rolling, position-switch-it-up, and we kept giggling while we fought for power neither of us gave a damn about.  And it was fun.  Another first that I never thought possible really—that sex could be just…fun.  

I don’t think I ever came and laughed right after before; Tyler chuckling himself while half-collapsed on top of me.  And the weird part was that after, even though it was lighter and not as emotionally deep as any of the other times, I felt more for him then.  I couldn’t describe the feeling really, just that it was something that I knew and trusted in my gut, that it meant something, and was probably the most intensely I ever felt about anything.  

It felt good.  Sex felt good.  Everything felt good.  With him.

And I couldn’t stop smiling.  

He fully collapsed against me, his head on my chest, and I was combing my fingers through his hair when he snickered and made the goosebumps break out again as the little puff of air tickled my skin.  “What?”

“It’s kind of funny.”

“What is?”

“Well, just that it took us three times to get it right.”

“What do you mean?”

He angled his head up to look at me. “I mean, like, the alley, and the time we almost had sex.”

I burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that’s right.  I mean, I remember the last time more than the first, but that almost seems like it wasn’t us.  It seems like a really long time ago.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“God, you were so fucking arrogant.  And impulsive.”

He was grinning up at me; he knew I wasn’t being mean.  “Well…”

I shook my head. “I really thought you were just like the rest of them.”

He shook his head slightly, brows pulling down.  It was incredibly cute when he did that, from this angle anyway. “Well, that’s not entirely fair.  You did sort of dump that on me and then run out.”

I was basically ignoring his side of the argument. “I was so fucking pissed at you.”

“I know.”  He sighed.  “I thought I totally blew it that night.”

I scoffed.  “You did, dumbass.  But then you stalked me and apologized, and I kind of had to give you another chance.”

“I’m glad you did.  Really glad.”

“Me, too.”

“Third time’s the charm apparently.”

I nodded. “And fourth.”

“And fifth.”

“And sixth.”

“Did we make it to seventh?”

“Yes,” I nodded.  “Probably eighth, too.”

His smile was so huge. “You gonna let me rest at all today?”

I squinted, pretending to think it over. “You can rest while I pee right now.”

“Pfft, you’re testing my stamina, I think.”  He rolled off of me.  

I shrugged. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.  It’s a good thing you’re young.”

I could hear him laughing as I walked to the bathroom.

When I came back, he was just about spread-eagle across the bed, his head turned in my direction, eyes closed.  I got back on the bed gently, lying on my side and propping my head on my elbow, not wanting to wake him if he’d fallen asleep that quickly, but his eyes opened and he smiled lightly at me.  “Is it weird that I like it’s only been me?” he asked. 

I didn’t need him to explain what he meant.  And I realized two things at once: one, I’d totally just gotten up and walked to the bathroom completely naked, and never thought about it at all—which wasn’t odd because I was used to being in various kinds of nakedness with the stripping, but I’d never been that comfortable just being…me before.  And two: “No, it’s not weird.  I like it, too.”

“Yeah?  It’s not an ego thing.  That I think no one else could get you off or anything.  I just like that no one else got there first this way.”

“I didn’t think it was an ego thing.  And yeah, I get it.  I like it, too.”

“I’m still sorry, though.”

“For what?”

“That you had to wait for me to get it.”

I shook my head, sighing. “I’m ok with it this way.  Now, anyway.  Maybe not before I met you.  But now.”

He nodded slowly, yawning.  

“You wanna nap?”

His eyes fluttered closed in answer.  “You wore me out,” he mumbled.  

I moved over to him, pressing a kiss into his temple.  “I think you earned a nap.  Rest up.  We have a lot of missed time to make up for.”

“’K.”

I smiled at his answer; like it was just a given.

I tried lying down and napping, too, but I was too fucking wired, and I felt completely restless.  I gave up eventually, moving to sit with my back against the wall, trying to think of something I could do while he was sleeping.  Nothing seemed appealing, or it would have meant I would have had to leave the bed, and I liked just being close to him.  I wound up thinking a lot and memorizing just about every inch of his body that I could see.  Of course that just made me ridiculously horny, which was such an odd experience to actually want someone, and let’s just say that his nap was cut just a little bit short.  

One (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three | Twenty-Four | Twenty-Five | Twenty-Six | Twenty-Seven | Twenty-Eight | Twenty-Nine |  Thirty  |  Thirty-One  |  Thirty-Two  |