And he doesn’t help when he qualifies that with, “Except the sounding rods. I amnotinto that. They came free in a package.”
“I don’t know what a sounding rod is.”
“Lucky for you.” He glares at some colourful sticks. “But if there’s anything else?—”
“August, no. Please. I just want you.” He stills, looking askance at his pile of treasures before settling slightly wary eyes on me. “Is that dull? Sorry. You probably want to?—”
“No. No, it’s not. I like you so much. I’ve been thinking about you honestly non-stop since we met. I’d really like to just… I want you to enjoy it.”
“Me too.” When he kisses me again, it’s softer, slower, and for the first time, I understand the tension that’s been in him too. To please. To be perfect. To be enough. As hard as it is to believe he could feel that way, looking like he does, he is me. And he deserves all the love and reassurance that… maybe I do…
I take my arms around his neck, and they feel good there. They feel right there, holding him close, his heart beating against mine. The way I wish it would beatformine. That it could ever happen for us.
He reaches across, and there’s a tinkle and rustle as his hand sinks into the mess on the bed. He comes back with a condom, sits up on me looking exactly like a god, then rips the package open with his perfect white teeth. “So, is this going on me, then?”
I actually feel the blood drain from my face. “No.” The word drops from my lips as though I’m pleading for my life.
“Same sexual preferences.” He shrugs. “And it’s pretty clear you like to top, so…”
No. The night cannot end like this. Not with him here, on top of me, in his bed, the best sex of my life literally within my reach?—
That grin.
I shove him over, clambering on top of him. “Do you think that’s funny?”
“I think that’s hilarious.”
I kiss the smirk off his face, then grab some lube, what flavour or type, I have no clue. I kick the rest of his sex cache to the floor, then flip the lid open.
“You know,” he says, shifting his cock up against mine. “If I like it, there’s every chance you will too.”
“I haven’t tried it,” I admit.
“Come back and see me tomorrow.” I dive in for a kiss, terrified and turned on by the idea, and by his confidence in the suggestion. I sink my coated fingers down, and arch into his when he fits the condom on me. I kiss him, work him for a time, until he begs, “Please, August. I’ve waited long enough.” Softly, eyes deep and unfathomable, “I’ve waited for you.”
Those last words curl around my heart. He pulls his arms around me, trapping me on every side. I take hold of his shoulder and press forward. A sweet sigh breaks out of him as he arches, opens for me.
He is the most beautiful man.
His eyes are closed, his eyelashes flutter. He’s heat and heart and the home I’ve always wanted.
“I’ve wanted you,” he whispers. “Nights I didn’t even know you existed, I’ve wanted you, August.”
It’s nonsense. Pillow talk. He cannot mean a word of it.
“You’re my missing piece, and I don’t want you to go.”
Tears pierce the back of my eyes, so I close them, letting August rip through me, his soul and his spirit, finishing me. Taking every piece of me that’s left. It’s his. All of it. I’m nothing, and he’s everything.
I open my eyes and see the tear on his cheek. Not his. Mine. He grabs me and pulls me down, into him and through him. He’s me so completely, and my soul is at peace for the first time. If I could stay here. If I could be him, held and made whole by him. The missing piece of myself.Me.
His hands run over my body, like a sculptor, pushing and pulling the clay of me, remaking me, forming me into something new and beautiful. Beautiful like him. Put together like him. The words he speaks are all adoration and longing, all the loneliness of our lives done up in this neat bow, this perfect moment. And we’re both pretending. For both our souls and for both our sanity, we pretend.
I tell him I want him. I tell him he’s all the world to me. And it’s true when I say it. It’s the truest thing I’ve ever said.
It’s not sex. It’s not. There’s no simple word, nothing that can describe the transcendent nature of being with him. He consumes me. And I let him. I become him. He’s all there is.
And my mind’s made up.
