You snuggled in closer and whispered into my ear as if daring me, “You would never hurt me.”
You had far too much confidence in me.
21
Orlando
Iwoke with a gasp, soaked in sweat. Beside me, you were still asleep. The sun hadn’t come up yet, but it would soon. I shut my eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but the nightmare had left a bad taste in my mouth. Literally. Roger popped up in my dreams every now and again. This time I was choking, and he was just sitting there letting it happen. I sat up in bed and took a sip of water. I had a habit of leaving a glass of water on the nightstand, something I’d been doing since I was a kid.
I glanced over at you, feeling calmer just seeing you there. The sheet had slipped down to show off the top of your butt and the dimple of your tailbone. Your back muscles were relaxed, your powerful arms bent and propping up the pillow under your head. When I was around Xavier, I admired his body, but only with you did I want to touch it.Needto touch it. Sometimes, even with your arms around me, I wanted to be closer.
I tickled your exposed armpit, and you snorted into the pillow with a little smile on your lips. When you rolled over, only part of the sheet went with you. Your morning wood popped up like a buoy, and you tugged at it absently. My mouth began to water, and I stole a glance at your face. Your eyes were still closed, halfway between sleep and awake.
I wrapped my hand around the base of your cock and stroked it a few times. You sighed and clasped your hands behind your head, eyeing me sleepily.
“Good morning,” you said gruffly.
“Morning,” I said distractedly and appraised your cock like it was a mountain I was preparing to climb. I wanted Roger out of my head. I wanted to be able to suck my boyfriend’s dick without thinking of that creep and associating it with something shameful and dirty.
You eyed me with uncertainty.
“I want to try,” I said, and you nodded slowly, still with that pensive look on your face.
With my thumb, I pressed on the slit of your crown where you were leaking, then put it to my lips. You didn’t taste like Roger. Not how I remembered him, at least. Like a hot, corrosive acid. I took another sip of water and rubbed my lips together.
“Orlando—”
“I want to,” I said, cutting you off.
You sighed and relaxed back into the pillows. As if sensing I needed a little privacy, you stared up at the ceiling. I got into a better position, kneeling between your thighs. I admired the silky hair on your tanned skin and the smooth lines of your thigh muscles, which directed my eye back to your amazing cock. Did you know Xavier had a beautiful cock when you selected him as your host?
Irrelevant. I got distracted at the most annoying times.
I rubbed my hands up and down your thighs compulsively, psyching myself up, but my thoughts kept drifting back to him.This isn’t like Roger, I reminded myself. Roger sat on the couch and unzipped his fly toward the end ofA-Team. He’d touch himself and leer at me like a creep while I tried not to look. Sometimes, the threat of what was coming—what he expected me to do—was worse than actually doing it.
Afterward, I’d eat sweets until I was sick to my stomach, trying to mask the taste of him. For a while I ate toothpaste too. I still did sometimes when I felt sick about something. The craziest thing was that I never understood where his semen went. I didn’t know it was in my stomach. I thought it was part of my body, rotting me from the inside.
“You’re not Roger,” I said to you.
You shook your head slowly. Your erection drooped sadly. It wasn’t very sexy bringing childhood trauma into the bedroom.
“This is already the worst blow job ever,” I said, defeated.
You sat up and kissed me, then rearranged our bodies so I was sitting in your lap with my chest facing yours and my knees on either side of you.
“You want to prove something?” you asked.
I nodded. I wanted to prove that Roger didn’t control me, that he hadn’t ruined oral sex for me, for life. “I don’t want him to have been the only man in my mouth.”
You traced my lower lip with your fingertip in the softest, most gentle touch. “I understand, but this isn’t something I need.”
“I want it. Roger took it from me, and I want it back.”
“Okay,” you said patiently. “Tell me what I can do to help.”
“Don’t hold my head and don’t come in my mouth.”
You nodded. “Should I go first? Perhaps that would help?”
