His skin is smooth with a fine trail of hair leading me to his dick. My Holy Grail. I bite his neck and am greeted by the same response as before. Grabbing his girth, I get acquainted with his most intimate area. He’s a mess in my arms while I rub him from base to tip. Just before I stroke down I give a whirl of my hand on the tip. I do the motion back down and up again. His grip on my hair tightens, pulling it hard. He rises on his tiptoes and lets out the heartiest moan before he starts shaking with the release of his orgasm.
I continue to rub, pulling everything deep from within him. Once he’s come down from the force I wrap him in my arms, preventing him from falling.
He just orgasmed so hard he practically had a seizure from the impact.
We stand like that for a few minutes before he comes back to himself. He clears his throat and I take that as my cue to move.
I know he needs to accept things, so I won’t push him. Not like I did when I wanted to be his friend. Sliding out of the shower, I slap his ass and watch it jiggle. He looks over his shoulder at me, and I wink in response.
After I dry off, I say, “There’s clean clothes sitting on the bed,” then I stroll out with a pep in my step.
21
EWEN
Mind blown. Those are the only words I have for how I feel right now. My body is still tingly but also feels so light.
I was just standing there, doing my prayers in my head. Reflecting on everything that had transpired over the past week. Seeing him almost die, seeing him lying in that hospital bed, then him waking. Then all the emotions slammed into me. Without even knowing it he became someone I care for. Deeply. Feelings I’ve never had. Not for a living soul. I have deep feelings for God, but these are different.
When I felt his presence at my back I didn’t flinch or question it. We were both naked, yet I didn’t shy away from him.
He caressed me, and I loved every second of it. At first I stopped him from touching me there. I just wanted to feel his embrace. But with those kisses, and then that bite, my brain fully seized up.
Before I met him, self-pleasure had never been a part of my life. I would randomly when I allowed my mind back in that dark alley. He took the first sexual moment from me. A moment I tried to say I allowed because I was under duress, but it’s a moment I could have prevented. I could have let him end my lifethat night. Stood strong in my convictions. But his eyes. They held promises of darkness that washed away doubt.
This time though, I couldn’t see his eyes. He was behind me, his strong body against mine. His very erect penis poking into me. I should have pushed him away, stopped him. But no, I was so lost in the feelings I got while grinding on him. I wanted to be consumed by him. The way his hand held me, stroked me, was better than my fantasies or my own hand. It was so good I orgasmed in a few strokes. I should feel shame at how fast the moment ended. I could have prolonged it, but no, I had an out of body experience instead.
My semen is on the tile of the shower in front of me. Still no shame. The desire to keep it there and stake my claim is strong but my rational side comes forth. Splashing water over the fluids my body released, I watch it disappear down the drain. Quickly I wash myself again, inhaling the smell that is his. Will I ever want to go back to my bodywash? No, I don’t think I will.
Declan is gone, and I’m thankful for that. I don’t want him to see me at war with myself. Sure, he causes me to forget everything, but that doesn’t last. I start to feel guilty, then I start to doubt myself and my world.
God says premarital sexual relations are wrong. I’m not a man who interprets the Bible to be against same sex relationships even though I know it says it’s not okay.Leviticus 18:22-You shall not lie with a man as with a woman, it is an abomination.But I have only known a true and just God. One who made us in His image. I believe you love who you want and if you love God, he will accept you. That’s always been one thing that’s set me apart from my colleagues. Many men of the cloth have stated it’s a sin. But it’s something I have always doubted. History has shown men with men since the beginning. So, if God made us in His image, then why would he give us feelings for someone when it’s wrong?
My mind races with all the reasons what he did was wrong—yet my body insists it felt right. Is this why everyone sins? Because the sensation is better than caring?
Just as Declan said there’re clothes laid out on his bed for me. It’s a benefit of us being similar in height, his clothes will fit me. He left out boxers too, which should have creeped me out but has the opposite effect on me. I smile and think about his manhood rubbing in the same place mine will. His erection, which I still haven’t seen.What does it look like?I could tell from the feel of it on my backside he’s not small, but that’s all I can say about it.
Would I ever be willing to touch it? Hold it? Taste it? And if I continue to throw all my thoughts about sex out the window, allow it inside me? Do I even want to?
I shake that line of thinking away before it has the ability to consume me.
Declan is sitting at his kitchen island, reading the newspaper. I didn’t know people still read the paper. He winks at me when he sees me approaching. That wink is clearly his thing. I’ve already lost count of how many times I’ve seen him do it. It’s also become one of the things that lights me up. A cheesy grin takes over my face.
He already has another cup of coffee waiting for me—with a splash of half and half just the way I like. He noticed. I’m starting to realize he notices a lot when it comes to me. I should be scared but I’m not. I know he stalked me. Again, I’m fine with that.
“Hey, do you still want to run errands with me?” I ask, seeing if we’re still good after our moment. He probably is, but am I? Am I just playing cool and actually freaking out? No, I feel just as okay as I did when it happened.
He sets down the paper and looks at me. “Yes, but I have to meet with Ciaran later. We have things to discuss. And heisn’t a patient man. I don’t want to leave your side, but this is important. Why don’t you hang out with Caleb?”
Declan reaches forward and grabs my hips and slides me back, not removing his hands. As he stands his grip becomes tighter. He leans in and kisses me. My eyes shoot open in surprise, and he chuckles against my lips.
“You look so sad. Is my innocent little Aingeal going to miss me?”
I shake my head. I don’t want him to know that I will. Time for a subject change. “Why do you still call me that? You don’t use Gaelic often.”
I’ve always wondered.
We break apart and sit down. “My grandpa used to run the O’Sullivan crew, long before Shamus was born. He was born in Ireland. About fifteen years ago he had a stroke. When he came out of it, he would only speak Gaelic. It was almost as if his English filter was flipped off. When we were kids, he taught us all how to speak it. Then we became proficient.”
