Need to give him everything I can. Need him to be mine.
Nicholas jerks with his wrists firm against the headboard, and when I feel him nearing orgasm, I grind his spot nice and hard. It does the trick, sending him over the edge. Nicholas’s dick shoots thick, white jets of cum, and his face twists into something beautiful and obscene as his hole clenches down on my rod. I pump my dick in him and release, flooding him as the world spins.
When I release his hands, Nicholas collapses against the bed. I tear the lace off and embrace him, pulling him close because I can’t wait anymore. I need his touch.
I stroke his back, holding him while I can, trying to memorize every breath.
Because I’m totally wrecked, I even do the thing that I try not to let myself do. I imagine that Nicholas is staying here. That this is our home, and neither of us are leaving.
But of course, that’s not true.
After some slow time in bed and a quick check-in to make sure we’re both feeling good, Nicholas takes off, heading back to his place.
He does hesitate for a minute at the door, though, as I stand there with him, wishing I knew what to say. He strokes my cheek, lingering like he might want the fantasy in my head, too.
When he’s gone, the pain behind my ribs is a good reminder why I need to leave town.
Nicholas wants and deserves something that I don’t know how to give another person. I’ll go back to being a loner, and hopefully, I haven’t wasted too much of his time.
He’s going to find the love he wants, and I’d be an asshole if I tried to stand in the way.
Suddenly miserable, I crawl into bed with a beer, put a home improvement show on my phone, and eventually fall asleep.
The next day is Nicholas’s birthday, which is great. He’s turning thirty, and that’s awesome.
I’m happy for him and ready to celebrate, but that doesn’t mean I’m suddenly looking forward to a big social event. Especially one where all the people in attendance are going to be gossiping about my sex life.
Annoying gayborhood. Why the hell do I care what any of them think?
Worst of all, I have to wear a goddamn costume. Because that’s what Nicholas wants, and that’s what everyone is going to do, so whatever. Maybe it will earn a smile out of him, and I’m not going to have many more chances to do that.
I hate everything.
The delivery from the costume shop arrived yesterday, but I haven’t unzipped the bag yet. They told me on the phone that they only carry one flower costume, so that’s the one I rented. I don’t really know flowers enough to have a favorite, anyway.
When I pull it out, though, my stomach sinks.
It’s even worse than I thought. There’s a green body suit, and a hat thing that wraps around your head and looks like a sunflower.
Maybe I should just throw myself out the window. If I broke a few bones and had to go to the hospital, I’d have a solid excuse to not do this.
Except then I wouldn’t be able to work.
My mind flashes back to Nicholas last night, riding my dick and murmuring those sweet, sexy sounds that I’m addicted to.
“Fuck my life.”
I put on the costume, which is kind of baggy. First I try to add sunglasses, but that makes me look even more ridiculous. Cursing, I put on my boots and then add a light work shirt over the body suit, leaving it unbuttoned at the top.
That’s a little better.
Thank god I’m about to leave town forever.
Steadying myself, I grab the paper bag with his present and head downstairs, ready to brave the short, two-block walk to the sex club.
At least I can try to leave him with a good memory. He knows me well enough—he’ll take one look at me in this ridiculous costume and know that I cared.
Fuck, I hope he knows that I care.
