The thought made me shake my head and laugh.
Confusion glittered in Fen’s eyes. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. I’ve just never felt all the things before.”
“All the things?”
I couldn’t explain, not with words, anyway. So I kissed him again, and resumed the slow rhythm that had made my brain so sluggish in the first place.
Fen didn’t protest. He let me rile him up, lulling me into a false sense of control. Then he popped the button on my jeans and treated me to a wicked smirk. “Can I make you come?”
“At this point, probably just by looking at me.”
Fen laughed. “Know the feeling.”
“Good. If this is one-sided, then I’m off.”
“I’ll get you off, mate.”
Of that, I had no doubt, but I wascravinghis release too. The one experience I had of it had blown my tiny mind and I wanted it again, in whatever capacity he was prepared to give it to me.
Apparently reading my mind, Fen unbuttoned his own jeans too, and manoeuvred waistbands and underwear until he had us both where he wanted us: panting, cocks trapped in his saliva-slicked fist. He’d done this in Manchester too, but it felt different this time, as if any nerves he had were gone and all that was left was want and desire.
Or wantondesire. It all fit.
Fen began to move his hand, working us together, swiping his thumb through the sticky fluid already coating us both. He had mad skills and I was instantly addicted to watching his dick slide against mine. I rolled my hips to match his rhythm. He mirrored me and it was like we were fucking, just without the soul-shattering pressure that came with it. I wanted him to fuck me—god yes—but I wasn’t ready. This was all I could take, and not for long.
Release crept up on me, hiding behind a wall of leg-shaking pleasure. By now, I was groaning with every pump and squeeze of Fen’s hand, my muscles seizing up, jaw unhinged, but coming still caught me off guard.
Perhaps it was the sheer force of it punching my hips forward. Or maybe the volume of the startled cry wrenched from my chest. Whatever. I shot all over Fen’s hand, coating his dick and mine with my release, and then I got my reward. Fenmoaned, deep and low. His hips rose from the futon, abs shaking, and with another quiet, masculine grunt, he came too.
I watched every thread of pleasure pass through him, lost in his glazed eyes, slack jaw, and heaving chest. It was beautiful, and so hot I wanted to do it all over again. Shame I didn’t have a magic dick. Or was it? Something this good had to be dangerous.
We came down slowly, me slumped against Fen’s chest while his hand remained wrapped around us both. It took a while for my surroundings to solidify again, and when they did, a dry laugh escaped me. “Hope your dad isn’t looking down on us.”
Fen snorted and finally set my cock free. He opened a drawer in a nearby bureau and retrieved a packet of travel tissues. “He didn’t believe in all that, so wherever he is, he’ll be having a pint and watching the rugby, not keeping tabs on little old me.”
“Just as well.”
Fen hummed his agreement and cleaned us both up. I felt sleepy again, like I had in the aftermath of the last time we’d been together like this. Contentment washed over me and I stretched out beside him on the futon, my head in his lap, until I remembered the paper-wrapped package on the desk.
Curiosity—and greed—got the better of me. Under Fen’s amused gaze, I got up, jeans still undone, and fetched the package. It smelt even better than it had when he’d arrived. “Is this, like, a roast dinner butty or something?”
“Close. I brought you a barm with turkey, cranberry, and chestnut stuffing. It’s from the market I was at this morning and I already ate two.”
“Course you have.” Couldn’t deny I was relieved. It made me feel less bad about unwrapping the overstuffed bread roll and applying it to my face while Fen looked on. “God, that’s good.”
“I know, right? Paddy loves them so much he made Safia learn how to make the stuffing so he could have it all year round.”
“She knows how to make this?”
“Yup.”
“Fuck it. I’m never leaving.”
Fen said nothing. Just watched me eat with a brooding grin, and it reminded me that he’d never given Safia an answer about spending Christmas Day with us. I was about to ask him when a calendar notification dinged on my laptop.
“Shit.” Still chewing, I got up and tapped the screen. I had ten minutes until the scheduled video call would start, but given that it was an offender Fen knew, it was all the more important that he left. And I didn’t want him to leave. Not least because I wanted him to see for himself how this particular offender had flourished in the job Fen had found for him. How happy he was. How safe. Whole. It was all Fen had ever wanted for this kid and it killed me that he’d never got to see it.
