But I haven’t found the courage to touch his dick. Maybe in the moments when I’m tempted, I hear Ryan break through the shield of silence that’s lifted between us whenever I’m close to Gracen. The most I’m brave enough to touch his cock is with my thigh pressing more firmly against it right now.
“Good,” Gracen says. He presses a kiss to my forehead, and I smile.
It feels strange to smile. New. I don’t think I’ve smiled since before Ryan was killed. But was that smiling? Was I happy? Orwas I deluded into thinking I was happy? I didn’t know any better.
I lick my lips before pressing them to Gracen’s chest. The feel of his heartbeat under my touch makes my breath get stuck in my throat.
“Gracen?” I ask, letting my fingers trail over his side, enjoying the way his muscles jump under my touch.
“Mm?”
“Can I touch you?”
“Yes.”
“I like to ask.”
“I know,” he answers. “You’re learning about consent and how important it is.”
My fingers stop as I think about this. Am I? I glance beyond Gracen to where Ryan’s image is hovering at the edge of the bed. He never asked permission. It was never my choice. Nothing was my choice.
I shiver, nodding. I think Gracen’s right.
Gently, I push Gracen backward until he rolls onto his back. I keep my face close to his skin as I lie along his side. He’s in his underwear, which is how he usually sleeps. I’m fully covered with my bedclothes.
My eyes track my fingers trailing down his stomach. He has a soft stomach. There’s muscle, but it’s covered with a soft patch of skin that I love to touch. I love the trail of hair. I love the pillowy feel of him and the way his muscles harden underneath.My fingers continue to glide through his hair, enjoying it against my skin.
My gaze is beyond where my hand hovers, though. Watching his dick press against the restraint of his underwear. I can see the crown of his big mushroom top. A wet spot is forming. It jumps suddenly, and I smile, pressing my lips to his shoulder.
“Gracen?” I whisper.
His answer is low and breathy. “Mhm?”
“Can you take off your underwear?”
He nods and, with the hand I’m not lying on, he wriggles his way out of them, shoving them down over his hips and then kicking them off with his feet. Now I have my first truly unfiltered view of him. It’s not that we haven’t been naked together before. We shower together sometimes. But I’ve never looked.
I wasn’t allowed to look at Ryan. Again, I think that goes back to his body image issues.
I’m allowed to look at Gracen, though. So I do. My fingers continue to move over his stomach, but my eyes are glued to his dick. I watch as a bead of precum grows bigger and bigger at the slit. A slit that’s staring at me. Pointing at me. Watching me. It grows until it’s too heavy and drops to his stomach.
I lick my lips.
“Gracen?”
“Yes?”
“Can I touch you there?” I point, maybe a little awkwardly.
“You can.”
My hand feels a little shaky as I slowly push my way toward him. My pinky touches the little bead of precum first, and I pick my hand up to press my thumb to my pinky to feel the texture.
Gently, perhaps reverently, I press my pointer to the tip of his dick. Against his slit. A flash of Ryan touching me like that blinks through my mind, and I shove it away.
That was wrong. He shouldn’t have been touching me. I didn’t like him touching me. When I told him I didn’t like it, he told me I was sinful and needed to be cleansed of those sins. There was no choice. Not on my part. I learned to get through those moments, keeping the pain silent and to myself.
This is different. I have permission. Gracen doesn’t ever touch me. He doesn’t ask. He’s waiting until I tell him I want him to. Even though I told him I wanted him to before, he decided that was for the wrong reasons.
