The thought was kind of like a bitch slap to the face. Sharp and stinging. Sometimes the truth hurt. Sometimes it took something heinous to really make everything completely clear.
I’d already known I was in love with T.
I’d fought my feelings for a long time.
We’d even begun exploring who we were to each other… And now he was hurt.
Beaten and aching.
The roughed-up shape he was in made everything so incredibly clear.
I wanted him. For now. For always.
Trent would always be my ultimate adrenaline rush. Not even a car or racetrack could beat him. He’d crossed the finish line in my heart a long time ago.
“I love you.” It came out like it was the first time I’d said it. Hell, it almost still felt like the first time.
Trent affected me profoundly. I wondered if I would ever get used to loving him or if it would always astonish me.
“Drew…” Trent warned, his voice wobbly and apprehensive.
My back and shoulder hit the headboard, but instead of easing my arm and side from underneath him, I settled back farther and spanned my fingers out at his waist, gently pushing so he would relax against me.
He did. He let me hold him. It was one of the first times we’d sat like this, with him in my arms this way. It was incredible to hold the very thing you loved most in your arms, to have it so close.
“Say it,” I whispered. “Please, frat boy.”
His back expanded against my chest when he inhaled. “I love you.”
My eyes closed, and I was glad he couldn’t see my face. I was the strong one right now, but his words… they broke me down.
My lips dropped, and I kissed the top of his shoulder as I softly looped my other arm around his waist so he was encircled.
We leaned our heads together and sat quietly while I listened to his breaths, silently making sure he was okay.
A few minutes later, he spoke. “It doesn’t change anything.”
I knew what he meant. I wanted to yell and put another fist through the wall. But I didn’t move. I sat there calmly and held him.
How did I do it?
I realized.
I felt.
Beneath all the anger, I was calm. Calm because there was no way in hell our love wouldn’t win out. We’d already been to hell and back just to make it to our first kiss.
Just because I wasn’t confused anymore didn’t mean Trent wasn’t. He was battling inside himself. He was battling against the past and his future.
“We’re not going to talk about that tonight.” I stroked a hand across his hip.
Tonight wasn’t caught up in the past or the future. Tonight was just the present.
And presently, I was going to love him.
Gingerly, I moved out from beneath him to pull up the covers around his legs. It wasn’t lost on me his cock was still hard (I had that effect on him), and I knew from experience (he had the same effect on me) it was probably painful.
He was already in a lot of pain, but this kind of pain I could ease.
I released the blankets. My fingers moved up the top of his thigh and past the hem of his boxers. His breath caught when they kept gliding, angled toward his erection.
The second the weight of my palm covered it, he moaned. My fingers wrapped around it, performing a single jerk. A breath hissed between his lips.
“This too much for you right now, frat boy?” I whispered.
His eyes blazed with golden highlights and the heat of a thousand flames. He shook his head once, then said nothing at all.
I moved to my knees to carefully work the boxers down over his hips and legs. I threw them across the room, glad to be rid of the barrier between us, and dipped my head.
I wasted no time, but latched right on. With one hand fisted at the base of his rod I held him while I took him deep into my mouth. Trent shuddered, and I paused, leaving him deep inside my throat before slowly dragging my lips up. I kept up the same rhythm for a while. Taking him deep, then slowly letting him go, only to claim him completely all over again.
It was torturous. For him and for me.
His hand fisted in my hair and his other a pillow. When he started squirming impatiently, I changed tactics, not wanting him to move around too much. I released his shaft and climbed between his legs so I could gently massage his sack.
I loved the softness of the skin there, the delicate, vulnerable flesh. A man’s balls were the most sensitive spot on his entire body. The urge to protect them was built in. The urge to cradle T’s in my palms and take them lovingly between my lips was intense.
So I did.
He trusted me here, at this point on his body. I cupped them and kissed them. I suckled the skin until they tightened up with the need to release.
Occasionally, as I worked his balls, I rubbed his cock. I stroked it, teased it, and I fondled his head.
The sounds of pleasure he made only spurred me on and fueled my desire to give him bliss, to show him just how all in I really was.