I sucked in a single breath, and as he hummed one more time, I let go. My orgasm came in a rush—a white-hot wave crashing over me as I throbbed and spilled into his mouth. Somewhere in the haze of it, I felt him swallow everything. I felt the suction lessen. Felt him pulling off and kissing my cock and then my stomach and chest.
By the time he was nuzzling my jaw, my hand had fallen from his hair, and he’d let my leg gently thump down to the cushion, foot grazing the floor.
“You okay?” he murmured. He pulled back and lifted my hand, which was showing obvious signs of muscle spasms. “Was it too much?”
I turned my head to meet his gaze. “It was exactly what I needed.”
His face softened into a smile, and he leaned in for an obvious kiss before freezing and pulling back.
“What?” I asked, stung by the sudden rejection.
He shook his head. “Cum-breath.”
“Oh my god.” I grabbed him with weak hands and tugged until his lips met mine. When he stuck his tongue in my mouth, I tasted myself on him and moaned softly. It was like I had marked him. Claimed him.
He might not be mine forever, but he was mine for now.
And that would have to be enough.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
NASH
Watching Forest sleep was quickly becoming one of my favorite pastimes. He’d fallen asleep again on the couch after dinner, which he had thoroughly enjoyed, eating more than I had expected.
But he slept a lot, which both comforted me and worried me. Had he overdone it the last few weeks, and his body needed to catch up on sleep? Or was this simply an inevitable side effect of his disease?
God, it angered me how unfair life could be. If anyone should’ve gotten a diagnosis like that, it should’ve been someone like me, you know? Someone who had already lived a good life, who was past his prime, who had both the financial resources and the support network to endure it.
Though if I were honest, I would’ve waited as long as possible to tell anyone, just like Forest had. It was always easier to encourage someone else to do the right thing than yourself, wasn’t it?
Like Forest, I hated leaning on others. I was the person who supported others, not the other way around. I was far more comfortable in the role I had with Forest than being the one who needed help.
And yes, that probably spoke volumes about some deeper psychological problem, but fuck that. Denial was working well for me so far, so why change it?
I sipped from a cold Coke as I alternated between looking out the window onto the foggy beach, where gentle waves rolled in an eternal rhythm, and watching Forest, whose gentle snores almost kept pace with the surf. He was so goddamn beautiful.
I’d always thought that the expression that someone took your breath away was a metaphorical saying, an exaggeration, really. But Forest had proved me wrong. My lungs tended to seize when he smiled, just like my heart would suddenly skip a beat or my hands would get clammy.
Yup, I felt like a teenager again, though even back then, I didn’t have it this bad. How was it possible that a five-foot-seven guy had me all tied up in knots with a simple smile?
God, his expression when he came… Beautiful didn’t even begin to describe it. He’d been stunning. Magnificent. And the sheer fact that I’d been allowed to touch him…
Thank fuck I’d made up for my earlier…misstep of focusing on myself instead of on him. He deserved better, and I sure as fuck held myself to a higher standard. I could count on one hand the number of times a sexual encounter I’d been involved in had been this lopsided, and four of those times, it had been the deliberate choice of my partner at the time.
That had not been the case here. Sure, Forest had assured me it was fine, but it wasn’t. I’d been selfish, and that couldn’t happen again. Ever. Forest had to be the priority in every single way—and that included sex.
It had grown dark outside, and I checked my watch. Nine p.m. It looked like Forest was out for the night, which meant I had to make him more comfortable. Hell to the no was he sleeping on that couch the whole night.
I prepared the bed in the bedroom by whipping off the covers and removing all the extra pillows. Seriously, what was it with some people and their need to have fifteen decorative pillows on a bed? Where the fuck were we supposed to sleep? On top of those damn pillows?
Then I headed back to the couch, where I carefully lifted a sleeping Forest into my arms, jostling him as little as possible. He weighed far less than he should, and I made a mental note to keep a close eye on his diet. He couldn’t afford to lose any more weight, which would affect his muscle mass, above all. And we needed to set him up with physical therapy.
I gently lowered him onto the bed, where I managed to remove his pants without waking him. He’d complained about cold feet before, so I left his socks on, but what about his hoodie?
I didn’t like the idea of him getting tangled up in the hood while sleeping, but that was a tough one to take off without waking him. But I had to try. Even if he did wake, he was probably tired enough that he’d fall right back asleep.
His right arm came out easily, and his limp body was easier to maneuver than I had expected. The left arm took a little more effort, as I had to lean over him, but I managed. Now all I had to do was pull the damn thing over his head, but that was easier said than done.
