“But I’m not gonna ask.”
“No?”
“No,” he says, turning my way as I round the couch. “Because I know I’ll like whatever you do to me, Oak. You’ll make me feel good.”
I breathe through my racing pulse, his faith in me causing my head to swim. “Do you needa take care of anything first?”
In answer, Lawson stands, swiping the rope and heading toward my bedroom.
Fuck.
He’s undressing when I enter the room, the bedside lamp already on. Seeing the man revealed piece by piece is an exquisite kind of torture. The small of his back as he lifts his shirt. His shoulder blades, flexing with the upward movement of his arms. The back of his neck, an arm free and then two. He drops his shirt to the floor before reaching for his pants. The swipe of a button, a zipper being lowered. A push, and then his ass, covered by his boxer briefs. Hairy thighs, thick calves, pants hitting the floor.
My breath is harsh in my lungs when Lawson hooks his thumbs under the band of his underwear and tugs.
He’s entirely unabashed about his nudity. Not cocky. Not presenting his best angles or even seemingly aware of my appraisal. He simply doesn’t care. And perhaps part of that is his own viewpoint on physicality. He doesn’t find people appealing in that way. Or, maybe more appropriately said, a person’s appearance isn’t what turns Lawson on.
But I wish I could tell him how beautiful he is to me. Every scar, every imperfection. Every line that makes up the person I’ve grown alongside for the past four-plus decades.
Lawson said loving someone means loving all of them, past, present, and future. It means protecting who they are. Being a safe space for them, always.
Maybe I can’t say the words yet, but I can show Lawson I’ll protect every single piece of him. I’ll worship him. Love him. For as long as he’ll let me.
Lawson tosses the comforter down before settling in the middle of my bed, the rope lying beside him. His cock is soft, and I never realized how appealing I’d find that, but there’s something about being the one to coax him to hardness that makes my protective instincts go into overdrive. I don’t want anyone else to have that privilege.
I want Lawson to trust me with it. Only me.
Lawson watches as I get rid of my clothes, tossing my t-shirt beside him on the bed instead of elsewhere. My own cock is hard as I approach. There’s simply no avoiding it where Lawson is concerned. His gaze catches there, an appreciation in his eyes that makes me want to beat my damn chest. His focus returns to my face as I kneel at his side, picking up the shirt.
“The rope isn’t the smoothest,” I explain. “So I’m gonna wrap this over your wrists first so you don’t get hurt.”
He nods once, offering his hands.
My heart beats like a drum as I wrap the soft cotton around him, tying it into a gentle knot to keep it in place. The rope is next. I secure Lawson’s wrists with a knot I can release quickly, making sure the rope is sitting comfortably over the shirt, not pressing into any one spot too hard. Lawson nods his approval once I raise an eyebrow. Looping the tail end of the rope around the headboard, I pull it taut and tie it off.
Lawson’s arms are stretched high above his head, only an inch or so of wiggle room in which he can move. I grab a pillow, and he automatically lifts his head. Wedging it beneath him while Lawson looks up at me with nothing but utter trust has my chest squeezing so tight I have to work hard not to do something stupid. Like kiss him and never, ever stop.
“All right?” I ask.
Lawson nods in a slow roll, even as there’s a slight pinch between his brows.
“What is it?” I prod.
“You don’t… I mean, you don’t want me turned on my stomach for this?”
I inhale a short breath, surprised by the question. “That’d be pretty uncomfortable with your arms raised above your head, don’t you think?”
“It’s just… I figured you wouldn’t want to be face to face. We haven’t been before.”
My mind rushes through our past encounters, and I realize…he’s right. The first couple times I fucked him, in my kitchen, in our tent while camping when it was too dark to even see his face…
Has that been intentional on his part? Because he, what, thought I wouldn’t want to see every damn flicker of pleasure that crossed his features? Because he figured it’d be too personal for what we are?
Which is friends. Who fuck.
I take Lawson’s chin in my hand, my hold gentle but unyielding. “I want your eyes on me, Law. I’m not pretending it’s anyone but you in my bed.”
His chest rises with his breath. “All right.”
