I want to push. I want to know more about this person, so much more. But I can see his expression shutting down and the malaise from earlier returning to his face.
“Sure,” I tell him. “But I won’t hear you slandering the food. Denny’s is a road trip icon.”
“I make absolutely no promises,” he says before handing me my meal.
Chapter Ten
Fallow
It’s still pitch black when I wake up for an unknown reason. My heart is racing and there are lingering images of a nightmare in my mind, but consciousness is chasing them out too quickly for me to really see them. I’m okay with that. It’s always the same stuff, my nightmares. I’m so used to them; they don’t normally wake me up.
I quickly take stock of my surroundings. The room is the same, and completely still apart from the rattling A/C unit beneath the window. The heavy motel curtain is drawn all the way, with only a sliver of yellow creeping in at the edge from the old sodium lights in the parking lot.
I’m uneasy, but that’s nothing new. Ever since we left on this trip and I realized I was close to finally finishing what I started here, I’ve been off kilter. But the more I look around, the more obvious it is that nothing is out of place.
Colm is on his bed, sprawled out on his stomach with his face shoved in his pillow and one knee hitched up toward his chest. The blanket is almost entirely kicked off, and he’s stripped downto his underwear. His arms are wrapped around the pillow like he’s holding it close, making the muscle there bulge like thick tree roots.
God, he really is delicious. Every single part of him is thick. Not in a ripped or showy way, just fucking meaty.
Sometimes my brain tells me I should take a literal bite, but I repress the urge. There are more sustainable ways to taste.
His back rises and falls in an easy rhythm, and I let my eyes truly wander without restraint. I look at the dark hair covering his legs, arms, chest, really everywhere. I look at the tacky Banna tattoos crawling all over him, that don’t look nearly as messy or embarrassing as they do on most of the others. Well, except for the ones on his knuckles that I can’t make out in the darkness but vividly remember from the day we met—letters on each knuckle spelling out “KNOW HOPE”.
And I look at the way those fucking boxer-briefs are straining to contain the mound of his ass that’s presented before me, that little sliver of sodium light bouncing off it like the moon.
Like I said, delicious.
A sudden desperation surges in me. It’s masquerading as lust, but I know that’s only a cover for the desire to rid myself of all of this unease. At least it’s something I know how to lean into. And I may not have known Colm for very long, but I’m also confident that he’ll be happy to be woken up for this.
An intrusive thought flashes through me—the idea of telling Colm why I’m awake and so… needy. It’s there and then it’s gone, but the thought still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. This is not what I do. Talking is not what I do. Fucking and fighting are the only things I’m good at and the only things I love.
Without any more wasted moments of self-reflection, I slip out from under the scratchy duvet that I don’t want to look too closely at, then pad across the space between the beds. It’s only a few feet, but it feels like farther. Something insurmountable,until I’m standing over Colm as he sleeps, wanting to reach out but not quite doing it.
I can see one of Colm’s eyes—the other half of his face still pressed into the pillow—as it flickers open. There’s a moment where he’s unfocused but quickly finds me. His entire body stays still, although I see a hint of tension set in, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even speak; watching me and waiting to see what I’ll do.
It makes the tension in me ease. Something about him is so solid, and I know there are a million different actions I could take right now, and every single one of them he would find some way to accommodate with his big body and calm presence. As someone who’s never relied on another person for a damn thing, it’s more of a relief than I expected. I’m not proud of myself right now but I’m also not going to dwell on it.
I twirl my finger in the air, raising an eyebrow at him until he gets the point and rolls over. And accommodating he is. All that bulk spreads out beneath me—his muscles relaxed again, the blankets kicked off to the side so I can drink in the sight of him. And it may be dark, but not too dark to see him already getting hard for me.
“Off,” I tell him, keeping my voice hushed in the darkness.
He complies, hooking his thumbs in his waistband and dragging the fabric down until he’s able to kick off the briefs and push them to the floor somewhere. Colm reaches for his half-hard cock but quickly freezes, reconsidering. Blue eyes squint at me for a moment before both his hands relax at his side, waiting for my instruction.
Someone learns quickly. I’m impressed.
“Good rabbit,” I purr.
I’m still standing next to the bed, and I take my time stripping down. I love being naked to fuck and don’t have any kind of body shame, but when I’m sleeping, I like to be ascovered as possible. Especially if there’s someone else in the room, which isn’t something I’d normally tolerate. Colm has no idea how many exceptions I’ve made for him in the past 24 hours, but I’m certainly not going to be the one to tell him.
Once my clothes are in a pile on the floor next to Colm’s underwear, I climb onto the bed as gracefully as I can. Colm’s gaze feels like a brand, the closest he can come to touching me, as I settle into position straddling his hips, my skin inches away from his. The level ofneedthat hits me is all-consuming, and not something that I expected.
My hands are shaking a little as I lean to the side to grab the Walgreens bag off Colm’s nightstand. I should have been better prepared, but I’m frazzled tonight. I just need to power through, I’ll feel more like myself as soon as I see Colm turning to mush in my hands.
At least I’m still coordinated to pull out a condom, the lube, and the most important purchase I made today—black nitrile gloves. I’m about to get started, but another idea occurs to me, and I take a second to fish one of my knives out of the drawer as well.
Colm’s eyes widen when I toss it on the mattress beside his head, but he remains still and silent, like I want him to be.
The promising sign is that the knife’s presence doesn’t deter his hard on. If anything, it seems to encourage it.
