Jamison let out a groan into my mouth as he kissed me again. “Fuuuuck, Hen...”
“Mmm,” was all I could manage in reply as I battled the urge to come. And then I felt it: his muscles tightened once again, his walls clenching around me, and his dick thickened in my grip.
When he came, Jamison yanked his head back from mine and howled to the ceiling. Sticky white ropes of come spurted over my hand, smearing onto both our chests as I kept moving, now, finally, chasing my own orgasm.
It took mere seconds; the sight of him coming was almost enough to do it for me on its own. I thrust a few more times, my rhythm stuttering, and then my body stiffened, my toes going numb, as I filled the condom with a long, low groan. My arms wobbled and I managed to roll us sideways before they gave out entirely, so I neither yanked myself out of Jamison nor crushed him to death. We lay there, both breathing heavily, for who knew how long. The warmth of his skin against mine was soothing, and for once in my life, I wasn’t thinking about danger or risk or even what was for dinner. My brain was…silent and content.
It was amazing.
Eventually, I felt myself soften entirely and sighed. “I need to come out and clean us up, babe,” I murmured to Jamison, whose eyes were closed and his lips tilted in a soft smile. I knew he wasn’t asleep, but if I left him much longer, he probably would be, and then I’d doze off, and we’d wake up a few hours from now crusted together with cum. No, thank you.
I grabbed the base of the condom and withdrew from Jamison as gently as I could. He whined low at the sensation of sudden emptiness, and I stroked the fingers of my free hand over his hole soothingly. “You ok?”
“Mmm.” His eyes fluttered but didn’t open. “Come back quick.”
I chuckled as I shucked off the condom and carefully deposited it in our bedside trash can. “As quick as I can, I promise.”
By the time I’d wiped myself down with a warm cloth in the bathroom and re-wetted and re-warmed it for Jamison, I could hear soft snores coming from the other room. It was even odds whether he’d sleep through being wiped off or not, and I laid a bet with myself that this time would be a “doesn’t wake up.” That lovemaking had been…intense. Honestly, I still felt kinda wobbly.
I carried the washcloth back into the bedroom and set to work cleaning up Jamison’s stomach and ass. He mumbled something and allowed me to turn him over when it was called for, but didn’t open his eyes. “Fucked you unconscious, huh?” I quietly teased his sleeping form. “I must have done something right.”
Jamison snorted, then cocked one eye open, surprising me. “Fuck yeah, you did. Now get back in bed.”
The crankiness surprised me and I couldn’t hold back a chuckle at his adorable grumpy face. “As you wish.”
***
Jamison
I wasn’t sure how long we slept, but it was full dark when I opened my eyes again, which meant it had to have been at least two hours. I propped myself up on one elbow and looked down at my boyfriend. Hen was still asleep, his auburn lashes fluttering against his cheeks. I had a strong urge to either kiss his nose or blow a raspberry into his neck, but he’d been known to wake up flailing when I did that, and I didn’t want any random bruises today. So instead, I just studied him.
His hair was tangled around his head, and I knew the first thing he’d do when he woke up would be to shove it out of his face and start searching for an elastic to pull it back. I vaguelyrecalled one pinging across the room as we rolled around in bed, and I didn’t see it anywhere within view, so oops on that. Moving carefully, I rolled out of bed and went into the bathroom to fetch a new elastic.
It was the little things that made a relationship strong. Like understanding your boyfriend’s love-hate relationship with his hair.
When I returned to bed with an elastic wrapped around my wrist two minutes later, Hen’s eyes were open. “Hey,” I said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“Hey,” he tried to say, though his voice was hoarse and it came out in a croak. He cleared his throat and tried again: “Hey. How long were we out this time?”
I shrugged. “Maybe two or three hours. You want to get up and finish cooking dinner?”
He wiggled a few inches across the bed until he could wrap his arms around my waist, his face pressed into my back. “Wanna hug you.”
“Boo, you can do that any time you want.” I tried to turn so we could hug face-to-face, but his arms tightened, holding me in place. “Ok, ok. Consider me trapped and subject to your whims.”
“Love you,” he said into my shoulder blade. “I don’t know why you stayed with me through all the drama -”
“Hon,” I interrupted, “you’re saying that as if the drama is over. Newsflash: we are plenty dramatic. See also: the sex scene we just completed.”
Hen scoffed. “You know what I mean. My meltdown. Meltdowns,” he corrected himself. “Because it wasn’t like there was just one in there for a while.” He sighed. “Anyway, I love you and I’m grateful you stuck with me.”
I put a hand over my shoulder and managed to run it through his hair without poking him in the face on the way. “I love youtoo, and I’m equally grateful that you fought through the rough stuff and made it to where you are today. You’re so strong, Hen.”
He made a noncommittal noise that I knew was his noise forI don’t agree but you’ll yell at me if I say that so I’m not saying it out loud. “Gay says in a good relationship, each partner fills in weak spots for the other. So I guess in our case, you handle the confidence gaps and I handle the…I don’t know, the woodworking gaps?”
Still so hard on himself. I petted his hair some more, and he finally let me twist to face him, though he didn’t pick himself up, so he ended up with his face smooshed against my pec. “Dude, you know how todothings. You can fix your own house, make business phone calls where I would only ever email and hope, and you taught me everything I know about cats. And,” I added, “you’re just pretty loveable in general, you fucker.”
Hen laughed at that and pressed a kiss above my heart. “Do you think our cats would get along?”
