"Been on the bottom?" I chuckle. "Uh… no. There's a first time for everything."
"What if you don't like it?"
"I'll love anything with you. Stop worrying about me. Trust me, I'm good to go anytime with anything. The answer will always be yes. I know you think I'm joking, but I'm not."
The laugh that comes out of him is sudden and unexpected. It breaks through the weight of the conversationlike sunlight through clouds. He laughs and his whole face changes and for a moment there's no Ron, no fear, no history, just a man in bed with someone he loves who just made him laugh about sex.
"Okay," he says. "We can try it."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I want to if you want to."
"Hell, yeah, I do," I say. "Before we do it, we'll need to talk about the practical logistics."
Stormy raises his eyebrows at me.
"You look worried," I say. "Are you worried? Don't be. We're both technically virgins here. When we're done, I'll go downstairs, steal Sheila's daiquiri machine and make us virgin pina coladas to celebrate."
"Maybe I should have a real drink first," he says. "I might need liquid courage. I can't believe you're really letting me do this."
"Letting you? What do you mean? I'm begging you. But first I need a shower. Let me clean up so I can make a good first impression. Give you a minute to think. And if you change your mind, that's fine too. Zero pressure. We've got all the time in the world."
I kiss his forehead and roll out of bed. I'm aware of him watching me walk naked to the bathroom. I step into the shower and wash everything, including the parts that are about to have a brand-new experience.
I think about what I just offered. I'm not nervous. This is Stormy and everything with Stormy is right, even the parts that are new and unknown and terrifying in the best possible way.
I dry off but don't put clothes or wrap a towel around me. We've established where this morning is going and clothes would be counterproductive to the mission.
When I walk back into the bedroom, he's sitting cross-legged on the bed in his thinking position, still naked, and he looks up at me when I come through the door. His eyes move down my body and back up. The flush on his cheeks deepens.
I stand there for a second, letting him look. Then I turn around and drop face-first onto the mattress with a heavy bounce that nearly sends him airborne. Reaching back, I slap my own ass. Hard enough that the sound cracks through the room like a gunshot.
"All yours, cowboy," I say into the pillow. "Have at it. Do me."
Dead silence.
I turn my head to look at him. His face is a masterpiece. His eyes are the size of dinner plates. His mouth is hanging open. His hands are frozen in the air in front of him like a man who's just been told to defuse a bomb and isn't sure which wire to cut. He's staring at my ass the way you'd stare at Mount Rushmore if someone told you it was all yours now and you need to figure out what to do with it.
"You should see your face right now," I say. "I would pay actual money to have a picture of your face right now."
"Tex… hang on a minute… I'm not sure… I don't know— "
"Relax, Stormy. I'm messing with you." I roll onto my side, grinning. "We're not doing the full thing right now. Breathe. I'm sorry, baby. You're freaking out."
"Tex! You can't just do that!" He shoves my shoulder. His face is red but he's laughing. "You can't slap your ass and say 'have at it' like I ordered a pizza."
"I absolutely can and I just did. Tactical humor, Stormy. It's my specialty. I deployed it to break the tension and based on the shade of red your face is, I'd say mission accomplished."
He shoves me again. I catch his hand and pull him toward me and he falls against my chest. We're both laughing, tangled up naked on a bed, and the laughter is the best sound in the world because it means the fear isn't running the show right now. We are.
The laughter fades into soft breaths against each other's skin. His body is warm and solid against mine, cock half-hard and pressing into my hip, a gentle reminder of how much he wants this even when he's nervous. I can feel the slight tremor in his arms where they bracket my shoulders, the way his heart beats fast against my ribs. He's scared, but he's here. Choosing this. Choosing me.
"Okay," he says, catching his breath. "If we're not doing the big thing right now, what are we doing?"
"Whatever you want. I just took a shower and I'm lying here naked. The menu is open. Chef's choice. Put me where you want me."
He studies me a minute. There's curiosity in his eyes. The tentative, bright-eyed curiosity of a person who's been told the world is bigger than they thought and is deciding which direction to explore first. His gaze travels down my body like he's seeing me for the first time without the filter of caution he's carried for so long.
