“Fuck!” I cried out.
I erupted, spilling hot and fast into his mouth. Cal didn’t choke; he drank it down, humming in satisfaction against my cock as I pulsed through the aftershocks. He drained me dry, licking the tip clean before pulling back.
I slumped against the dresser, breathless, expecting him to go wash up.
Cal stood up, his lips wet and slick. Before I could process what was happening, he grabbed the back of my neck and crushed his mouth to mine.
He kissed me deeply, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, sharing the taste of my own cum with me. It was salty, warm, and overwhelming. It was the most intimate, claiming thing he had ever done.
I moaned into his mouth, tasting myself on his tongue, loving it. I loved that he wanted to share this. I loved that he didn’t want to wash me away.
Cal pulled back slowly, a dark, satisfied smirk on his lips as he saw the dazed look in my eyes.
“You taste so good,” he whispered, licking his lips. “Like you’re all mine.”
I stared at him, flushed and completely wrecked. “Jesus, Cal.”
“Now let’s go,” he winked, turning to grab his clothes. “Before I drag you back to bed.”
We went down to breakfast. I was flushed, dizzy, and walking gingerly, the taste of the kiss still lingering on my lips. Lena was already there with Evan, picking at a plate of fruit.
“Oh my god, I love that hoodie!” Lena exclaimed as we sat down. “Is that vintage Deadlock? The lettering is so cool.”
Calsnorted into his coffee. “Vintage,” he laughed, shaking his head at me.
“Yeah,” I said, grabbing a coffee, feeling warm despite the AC. “First merch run. I kept it from the younger years.”
“It’s awesome,” Lena said. “You need to wear one of my shirts next. It would make my day.”
I smiled. “Deal.”
Evan looked at me, then at the hoodie. He clocked it instantly. Then he clocked the way I was shifting in my chair.
“Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head, trying to hide a smile. “Wearing the Boyfriend’s hoodie much?”
Lena smacked Evan’s arm. “Shut up, Evan! Gay jokes aren’t funny in this generation.”
I choked on my coffee. Cal kicked me under the table, hiding his own laugh behind his hand.
Later, back in the room, we lay in bed, taking advantage of the late checkout before we had to head to the arena for the show.
“So,” Cal asked quietly, tracing patterns on my chest, his touch light and contemplative. “Did you ever move? After everything happened? Where have you been living?”
“No,” I said. “I stayed on the family land. But I inherited my grandfather’s house on the edge of the property. I restored it. Spent a whole year fixing the porch.”
Calwent still. His hand stopped moving. He picked up on it instantly. The porch. The dream.
“I want to take you there,” I said softly, looking at him. “This summer. For an off weekend.”
Cal smiled, warm and genuine, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And your family?”
“I don’t care,” I said honestly. “I’ll tell them who you are. If they have a problem with it, they can get out of my life. I’m not hiding you, Cal. Not anymore.”
Cal kissed me, deep and slow.
“Good,” he whispered against my lips. “Because I’m not hiding either.”
He pulled back, glancing at the clock.
