I sit up, cross my legs on the bed and face him. This conversation needs to happen face to face, not into his chest, not in the dark. I need to see his eyes and I need him to see mine.
When I do that, he sits up too and leans against the headboard. He looks at me with the patient attention of a man who has learned that when I ask to talk, the talking is important and the listening is the whole job.
"I'm listening," he says.
I take a deep breath. "I want you to fuck me."
The words come out direct. No stutter. No preamble. Just the words. I've been carrying them for weeks and they've been getting simpler every day, crystallizing from a complicated tangle of thought and feeling into six words that say exactly what I want.
Tex is quiet as if he's weighing this seriously. I half-expected him to make a joke, to make light of it, but his eyes stay steady and the grin stays away.
"Talk to me about that," he says.
"I don't want to talk around it or spend an hour building up to it. I've been thinking about it for weeks and I know what I want. I love you and I want to give you all of me. Everything I have to possibly give you. I want you inside me. I need that."
"Stormy—"
"Let me finish." I take a breath. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking about four years of what Ron did. You're thinking that this act is the thing that's most connected to my trauma and you don't want to be anywhere near that. You're thinking about your size and my size and the fact that the last time someone was inside me wasn't a choice and it wasn't love."
"You're right. I'm thinking all of those things."
"I know. And I need you to hear me say that I've thought about all of them too. Every angle. And what I've figured out is that this is the last thing he still has over me. Ron took everything from me and I've taken almost all of it back. My voice. My self-worth. My right to choose what happens to me. But there's one thing left. One act that I've only ever experienced as violence. And as long as that's the only version I have, Ron still owns it."
Tex is listening. His hands are still and his whole body is giving me his full-beam attention.
"I need to know what it feels like when it's a choice. When it's with someone I love and who I know loves me back. This is something I want and I think I need it too."
He blows out a long breath and takes my hand. "I understand what you're saying, but I'm going to be honest with you. I'm terrified."
"Why?"
"I'm a big guy, Stormy. I'm big everywhere, hands, feet, dick. And the thought of being inside you and seeing an expression cross your face that looks like what he put there—that scares the shit out of me. If I see that in your eyes, I will never forgive myself."
"You won't see it."
"How do you know? "
"Because you're not him and you love me. Because you're asking me right now if I'm sure and he never asked me anything. That's how I know."
"What if this goes sideways though and it puts you back in a dark place again?" He rubs a big hand over his face. "God, Stormy. This is a tricky situation. So many things cango wrong. I've told you before and I'll tell you again, this is not something I need from you. Your body is not currency. I'm perfectly happy doing anything, everything or nothing but kissing with you as long as you're in my life. I mean that with all my heart. So please don't think you need to offer me this because you think I need it.Please, baby. I'm worried like hell about this and I'm not a man who worries easily."
"I know you would never ask me to do something I wasn't comfortable with. I want to do this. With you. I want to be with you in every way." I squeeze his hand. "I promise I'll be okay."
His thumb traces circles on my hand. "Okay." He blows out a long breath. "But we're not doing it tonight. This can't be a spur of the moment thing that we rush into. We're going to work our way up to it. Slowly. Sloth speed slowly. We're going to take this in steps because I have never touched you there. Not once. Not with my hands, not with my tongue, not anything. And the first time I do shouldn't be with all my big dick energy going… all up in there."
I burst out laughing. Tex always finds the moment where the weight is heaviest, and he slips a joke underneath it like a jack under a car and the weight lifts just enough to breathe.
"I'm kind of fond of your big dick energy," I say.
"The point is—" He takes both my hands in his and holds them. "You've never been touched there by someone who loves you. So, before we get to the main event, we need the opening act. Tonight. Let me learn you better. Let me figure out what feels good and what doesn't and where the lines are. Slow. Easy. No pressure. No end goal. Just me and you figuring this out together. And then tomorrow, if everything feels right, we go a little further. Maybe just the tip."
I grin at him. "Just the tip? Really?"
Tex shrugs. "Maybe an inch a night? So, the way I'm figuring, this might take two weeks to get to the finish line, right?"
"Your dick isn't fourteen inches long."
"You sure about that? Have you ever measured it? Or maybe my math is wrong. You're the math guy, not me. That's why I keep you around, Stormy. Do we have a deal? To take it slow?"
