“I hope I do have forever with you.” He brings a hand to cup my cheek. “Whether it’s in this life or the next.”
“And the next.” I kiss the heel of his hand. “Now be a good boy and lie back while I add another finger.”
“Cazzo, I shouldn’t like you saying that so much.”
I laugh lightly but I’m busy focusing on getting my third finger slicked up. I bundle the three digits together to slide them into Marcello and while he takes them easily enough, I can tell from the way his body tenses, it’s still not comfortable.
“Just take some deep breaths.” I bring my other hand to his stomach and stroke the hair there. He’s all but lost his erection which doesn’t bother me in the slightest. It happens to me when I bottom sometimes. I’m much more concerned about how he’s doing in his head.
His breaths are deep but the exhales are jagged and noisy. I separate my fingers slightly and search again for his prostate. I think I can reach it with the very tip of my middle finger but when Marcello twists as I push deeper inside him, I withdraw.
“Does it hurt?” I ask.
He pulls in another breath but this time holds it. “Yeah, it does.”
I slide my fingers outside of him. “Then we’ll stop.”
His head falls back and his next exhale is nothing but relief. “I’m sorry.”
I climb up and over him. “Don’t be.” I smile before I kiss his lips, holding my weight with my hands on either side of his body. “I love that you tried.”
“Maybe we can try again, another day?” His smile is small but brave.
“Maybe, but also, if you never want to do that again, I’ll be happy. I told you I like to bottom.
“And there’s all the other stuff we can do together.” He reaches down and grips my dick, rubbing it against his, which is starting to fill with blood again
“So much other stuff.” I kiss him again.
“And I’m more than happy for you to eat my ass again,” he says against my lips. “Anytime you want.”
“Oh, I will. Now, are you going to fuck me or am I going to choke myself on your beautiful dick?”
He groans into my open mouth. “God, I want that. I want it all.”
“It’s your choice.” I dive down and suck on his neck, smelling his hair which has a surprisingly sweet air to it, like sugar cookies or candy floss, and I start to rock my body against his.
“You are my choice,” he says, which is so unexpected it makes me freeze again, but this time it's not with fear. Not at all.
I push back up again. “You’re my choice too.”
“Good, now lie down for me, legs back and cheeks spread for me. I want to work on my ass-eating skills.”
In a perfect world, that’s exactly what I would have done. But in a perfect world, Marcello and I wouldn’t have done the silly dance we did around each other for weeks. Fuck, no, in a perfect world we would have met fifteen, twenty years ago and had all this time together. In a perfect world my parents would still be alive, maybe a sibling too, and his father and brother would still be with us. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have OCD and maybe Marcello wouldn’t have ADHD.
But we don’t live in a perfect world. We live in a world where tragic things happen and we lose people we love. We live in a world where loss and grief and hardship are part of life. We live in a world where nobody is perfect. Not a single person, no matter how hard they strive for it. Everybody has their idiosyncrasies, their differences, the ways they setthemselves apart from others. Some of these things are burdensome and demanding and difficult. But some of these things – and conversely they’re often the same things – are also beautiful and unique and fascinating. Some of these things cause both pain and pleasure. Because we live in a world where life is messy and complicated and where wonderful things may not always happen when you want them to, but they do happen.
And we live in a world where I need to shower and prep before my boyfriend –my boyfriend– puts his mouth on my arsehole.
But it doesn’t take long, and the whole time I’m in the shower, I’m smiling.
I continue to smile when I return with a towel around my waist and Marcello grabs me and yanks me back onto the bed with him. I’m smiling when he rolls me onto my back and pushes my legs back. I’m smiling when he dives down and eats my ass like it’s something he’s always done.
There’s no stopping my smiling as Marcello uses his fingers to stretch me open.
I only stop smiling when he slides his dick inside me because I’m overwhelmed with so many other feelings. It feels so right – like it has before, yes – but again this time I don’t fight the feeling. I don’t try and ignore it with counting or thoughts about cleaning. I don’t worry about what Marcello is or isn’t thinking because I can see it on his face too. His mouth is also open, slack and overcome with sensation, or maybe, like me, emotion. His eyes are on mine and they’re so brown and warm and bright, I know I could look at his eyes forever and never bore of them. When he brings his hand up to cradle my face again, it’s almost too much. I almost start to count. But I don’t. I just breathe and I feel...
I feel it all.
