Page 13 of Balance

I didn’t plan on going anywhere. I gathered up his cum, surprised at the amount that was there considering he’d already come once tonight. I spread it on my cock and knelt up so I was towering over him. In the dim light, I could barely make out his face, but I could tell he was wrecked. Ruined. Beautiful.

Jerking faster, his cum for lube, it didn’t take long before I was coming, painting his chest with ropes of white. Some splattered up on his cheek and I watched as he wiped it off with a finger and then popped it in his mouth. The groan he let out was sinful.

When I had no more cum left in my body, when touching myself became pain not pleasure, only then did I stop. I let go of my cock and lowered myself down on Troye again, smearing the cum between our bodies. I kissed him hard and deep and so fucking slow I could commit every moment of it to memory.

When we finally stopped, I leaned my forehead against his, and he let out a soft laugh.

“What’s funny?” I asked, still out of breath.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Troye laughed again, a little weaker this time.

“I’d forgotten all about that.” I kissed him on the cheek, not like an impersonal peck, but like I wanted to kiss him on the mouth but didn’t trust myself to start again because I might not stop. “Shower with me?”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

“I’ve been known to have them from time to time.”

Being with Troye was starting to feel like the best idea I’d had in a long time. We made our way to the bathroom, and I got the water ready, adjusting the temperature to one most people could withstand. Not everyone liked to be boiled alive in their skin.

Troye stepped into the water and tipped his head back. I watched the water run down his skin, tempting me to chase it with my mouth. He opened his eyes and caught me staring. He didn’t call me on it, though. He only smiled a little wider.

“Do you mind if I turn the water up a bit?” he asked. “If you like your showers colder, I can wait until you’re done.”

“No, feel free. I like it hot.”

The bathroom filled with steam in no time. The hot water made the air feel heavy and thick. I didn’t have another orgasm in me just yet, but I wanted to get my hands on Troye again. So I did. I pinned him up against the wall in the shower, and he looped his arms around my neck and we kissed.

And kissed.

And kissed.

And kissed.

We kissed until we were pruney and overheated and only then did we part. Neither of us dressed again after; we crawled into bed naked and when Troye rolled onto his side, I snuggled up behind him, forming my body to his. Draping an arm around him, I held him close.

This day hadn’t gone how I’d expected it to, but I didn’t mind how it had ended up. I might have missed my flight, but I found something, someone, worth knowing. And that made me feel like I was lucky that out of all the seats that the airline could have double-booked, it was mine. Maybe a more rational passenger would have been able to deal with Troye, but I was quickly learning that I was anything but rational where he was concerned.

I nuzzled into the back of his neck, then kissed his bare skin. “Goodnight, Troye.”

“Night,” he answered, his voice heavy with sleep, like he was only a moment from being dragged under but had wanted to respond to me anyway.

I kissed him again and then let sleep take me.

CHAPTER 7

TROYE

Of course, I left the next morning. Like a coward. Like a person with regrets a mile long because they do impulsive shit like get hot men kicked off airplanes. Then sleep with said hot men in hotel rooms. Well, hot man. Singular. Not plural. Two hot men would’ve destroyed me. As it was, one hot man had ruined me for anyone else. I was sure of it.

From now on, anyone I kissed would be compared to Matthew. Anyone who touched me would be held up to The Matthew Standard. He’d been too good. Too amazing. Too… bossy. God, that had been good, though. For a short time, I hadn’t needed to think, or fret, or worry that I wasn’t doing things right.

So why did I leave the hotel room, and why did I beg for a flight change, and why did I hide in the corner of an airport bar, nursing a singular beer? Well, because I was a stupid coward who did stupid cowardly things. Like run out on someone who was fucking wonderful. Because what the hell had that been?

I let him spank me. Not only did I let him, but every time I shifted my weight, my ass would remind me that he’d been there. It was as if he’d branded me with his bare hands. It felt like I was his now. At least it had when I’d woken up, tangled in his limbs, an ache in the flesh of my ass. His breathing was steady and even when I slipped out of his grasp to use the bathroom.

I didn’t panic at first. I’d fully intended on getting back in bed, but then I saw the shower and remembered that kiss we’d shared after. That kiss that had been for the sake of kissing. It had no destination, just a journey all its own. He’d wanted to kiss me, so he’d kissed me. He expected nothing in return. Just my kisses.

The memory of it made my insides hot and squirrelly. My skin turned clammy, and I knew I couldn’t get back into bed with him or I might never want to leave. I’d turn into a stage five clinger, and he’d be okay with it at first. But like everyone else, he’d get tired of me eventually. Probably as soon as he woke up and realized who he’d come all over. Who he kissed and spanked and touched and was nice to.