With Wizard, what I felt wasn’t all damp palms and a fluttering tummy. It was feeling safe. Coming home. Being heard. Being seen. Knowing that I could tell him anything. It was sky high sunflowers and gardens. It was staring up at the stars.
And now, it’s also this. It’s all the roadblocks gone in my mind and my body coming awake, coming back online,wanting. It’s me, imagining him waking up, stiff and hard. Aching. It’s me wanting to be the hands he wraps around his cock. I want to feel him, hard and velvet in my palm. I want him slick and arched, panting and devastated at my touch. I want him in my mouth, the salt of him coating my tongue, the musk of him deep in my nostrils. I want to hear the sounds he’d make. His moans of pleasure wrung from him because of me. I want to bring him to life right alongside me.
I want… I want too much. None of it slow.
I just, straight up long for him. I’ve never felt anything like this, like the air is fire, like I’m trapped in an inferno, like I’m raging with fever. Like I’m going to crawl out of my skin. Yes, I’ve felt desire, but it wasnothinglike this.
There’s nothing perfunctory or obligated about the way I feel. Iwant, but I also want toadore. I want toworship. I wanthispleasure far more than I want my own.
“I know we said we’d go slow… but… could I touch you?”
His whole body jerks so hard that the bed jumps, the log headboard bumping up against the pine paneling. “I’dprobably last five seconds. You’d just look at me and I’d make a mess all over myself.”
“I could just close my eyes and listen.”
He snorts. “That’s weird.”
“Do you not like weird?”
No, this is all wrong. What he needs is for me to create a safe, shameless space for him. He’s trained himself for years to not want this. To bury it down and stuff it deep. He never believed this would happen. He never wanted anyone else. I haunted him. I know that’s not how he would say it went, but he’s thirty years old and he just had his first kiss today. No one has ever touched his body. No one has made him feel good.
My fingers trail up the sensitive skin of his inner arm and he shivers again. “I don’t think that touching you is going too fast. Not when you’ve waited all this time, and now that I’m finally clued into it, I feel like I could maybe die if I don’t.”
He groans. Shivers again.
“I’ve never had a sexy dream. That sounds half like it would be really good and half like torture.”
“It’s something like that.”
There are things I can say and things I will definitely never tell him. If anything is awkward, it’s that. “I—haven’t wanted to touch myself in a long time. I didn’t feel ashamed. I didn’t feel anything at all. I’ve been so dead inside. I don’t feel dead now. Iache. I’malive. Iwant. If you want to go to the bathroom and take care of it, that’s okay. I could get up andgive you privacy. But if you want to kiss a bit and touch a bit, I would really like that with you.”
“Esme,” he gulps. Shudders. He rolls, reaching for me.
I scoot across the bed and lean over him, my leg pressing up against his under the blankets. His skin is so hot and a little bit damp. I cup his face and brush my lips over his. I taste his breath, the mint of his toothpaste from a few hours ago. He groans and his lips part beneath mine. I chase the kiss, grasping his shoulders and sweeping my leg over his waist. My thighs brush against his, my toes reaching down to his knees. Bare skin. So much. I lick Wizard’s lower lip and he opens again. The space between us charges, electrifies, and goes molten. I’m not touching him in the right spots. I haven’t brushed against his erection. I want to, but that might be too much.
I drive him deeper with the kiss, coaxing his tongue out. He thrusts it into my mouth and they tangle. I stroke his with mine, whimpering and arching down, getting closer and closer to lowering myself all the way. I want to. I want so much. He’s trembling, and he’s not the only one. I slow down the kiss on purpose, telling myself to wait, trying to use some control. I keep going and going, until when I pull away, I’m satisfied to see that his lips are swollen.
I trickle my fingers down off his shoulder, trailing a path over his heaving chest. His t-shirt is damp. One day, I want him to tell me every detail of his dreams. I want to sit back and watch him touch himself. I want him to make himself come right in front of me. Maybe I’d want to do that for him too. It’s my face going red hot with those thoughts.
I keep working my hand down, skimming over his pecs and his hard abs until I reach the hem of his shirt. I push it up a fraction and caress the strip of skin right above the waistband of his boxers. It feels shockingly intimate even though it’s such a little thing.
“Can I?”
He chokes when he tries to say something, but the way his hips lift, pushing up and trying to grind against my hand, is a pretty good indication of what he wants. I’d still like him to say it.
“Wizard?”
“Yes. Please.”
I want to see all of him. I shove his shirt up, push it all the way until it hinges under his armpits. He lifts just enough for me to drag it over his arms and off. He shivers, and probably not from the cool air. His nipples are tightly beaded. His body is a masterpiece. He’s worked hard to hone every muscle and sculpt every plane. My mouth dries out just looking at him. I want to taste and lick every muscle, every seam, every inch. I want to taste the ink on his arms, black and gray traditional masterpieces. I want to learn every vein, tease the hairs on his arm, discover every single bit of his body that brings a gasp, or a shiver, or pebbles his skin with goosebumps.
“You’re gorgeous,” I whisper.
I can’t help it. I have to bend and trail a line of kisses between his pecs and down, over his abs. His skin is so smooth. He has no hair anywhere. He’s all velvet over hard, hard muscle. I wonder if he waxes. It’s a weird thing to think, and it’s a strange thing to get turned on by.
I kiss Wizard’s abs, run my tongue along his V and over his obliques. My hand shoots out and cups his pec. I brush my fingers over his hard nipple and he gasps and bucks beneath me.
I peel Wizard’s boxers down. I mean to go slow, but there’s only so much slow you can go before you’re exposing things. It happens pretty much right away. He’s so hard that his cock is straight vertical. The tip is purple and leaking precum. I keep going, wondering if it would be worse to take his boxers all the way off or snap them back down, trapping him at the base.
