Marshall made us coffee, then cracked four eggs in a bowl and set to scrambling them. “When is that?”
“He’s been looking, but I’m not sure.”
“He doesn’t want to stay where he is and get a new roommate?”
I shook my head. “He said it was our space.”
“What a romantic.” Marshall slid the finished eggs onto a plate, correcting himself, “Platonically romantic. If there is such a thing.”
“I’m sure there is.”
Next up was bread into the toaster, and then Marshall was on the stool beside me, breakfast in front of us both, coffee steaming and ready to drink.
“I can pay you rent,” I finally said. “And bills.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“What ifIwant to?”
Marshall finished chewing and set down his fork. After he swallowed, he dragged his tongue across the front of his teeth,the way he did when he was thinking about something. Slowly, I folded my hands into my lap and stared at my plate.
“Is this a limit, Silas?” he asked, looking at me from the corner of his eye. “Are you going to insist on this?”
I closed my eyes and thought long and hard about the answer I wanted to give. It should have been a limit. I’d never slacked off or tried to pass off my responsibilities onto anyone else, and I’d never intended to start with Marshall. But my relationship with him was very different than it was with Lincoln, than it would have been with any other boyfriend. Marshall was my partner, but he was also my dominant. That came with a different set of responsibilities and expectations, and we’d both known what they were when we signed up to be with each other.
Slowly, I shook my head. “No,” I said. “No, Sir.”
Marshall licked his lips, nodding before he said, “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay.”
I picked up my fork and finished my breakfast, then I cleared our plates and caught up to Marshall in the bathroom. He stepped out of his shorts and held his hand out for me. The shower was already on, the water hot, and the steam filling the room. I walked into his arms and peppered his chest with kisses, feeling grateful and overwhelmed.
“Sir,” I whispered, trailing a hand down his stomach. My fingers tangled into the hair around the base of his cock, and Marshall groaned at the touch.
“Yes, Silas,” he answered, and I went to my knees.
I kissed the fronts of his thighs and the insides, lower down to the backs of his knees, his ankles, the tops of his feet. I dragged my cheek across his skin like a cat, blinking back a wave of unexpected emotion and tears that threatened to spill over my lashes. Touching and licking and kissing my way backup, I took his cock into my mouth and sucked, and sucked, and sucked him down my throat until his hands were in my hair and his groans in my ears, and how had I ever wanted to fight any of this?
This was heaven.
I couldn’t have designed a better partner for myself if I’d tried, and to think I’d ended up with Marshall by accident. Call it cause and effect or whatever words you wanted, but I was so much more than lucky to be on my knees in front of his man. To have a place there for as long as it felt right.
“Don’t swallow,” he warned, and then hot cum splattered onto my tongue.
Marshall’s hands tightened in my hair, and he restrained his thrusts as he came in my mouth. A burst of his cum shot against my cheek as he hauled me up to my feet, then he crashed our mouths together again and licked the taste of him off my tongue. He consumed me wholly, lifting me by the bruised backs of my thighs. I wrapped myself around him, opening my mouth so wide it hurt so he could kiss me deeper.
Marshall walked us into the shower, my back landing hard against the wall. The breath left my lungs and entered his, and the sound he made was enough to ground me right back into my body with so much force I never wanted to leave. Marshall was all-consuming, like when I’d given in and admitted how much I wanted my future to have him in it, he’d opened the floodgates.
It should have been too much, but I knew Marshall would never let me drown.
He managed to get us both washed and dried. Dressing took more time because he allowed my hands to roam over the dampness of his body a little longer than was necessary to get his clothes on. He dressed me in return, leaving reverent kisses on every faded bruise he’d ever given me. The passion finally quieted to a simmer, and Marshall sat beside me on theedge of the bed, our thighs pressed together and pinkies twined.
“Are you sure Lincoln is going to be okay with this?” he asked.
I still didn’t know what the two of them had spoken about earlier in the week, but Marshall’s concern enhanced my own.
