To have him.
To love him.
To serve him.
Oscar wanted to serve Aaron forever.
“Oh. Oh.Oh. Fuck.” Aaron’s breath caught in his throat, strangling him as he clawed for air, as he mounted a summit and his legs gave way. Oscar felt it coming before Aaron shattered, tasted his delicious trickle and held it in his mouth, his free hand sliding into the gaps between Aaron’s fingers and pressing.
Oscar kissed the inside of Aaron’s thigh, running his wetsticky hand up the smooth soft ginger hairs among the freckles. He raised himself, kissing the soft mound above the magic.
“You good?” Oscar murmured, resting his chin there and looking up.
“Mhm,” Aaron replied. He ran a clammy hand through Oscar’s hair. “Areyougood?”
“Perfect,” Oscar said. He found Aaron’s eyes across from him.
“Just give me a minute to breathe, okay?” Aaron whispered.
“I love you.” The confession spilled from him, a bucket tipped over, spreading the culmination of his own raging high come now to a soft, smooth close, even as his want persisted, even as his heat burned on.
“You’re not supposed to say it during sex,” Aaron replied.
“I loved you before the sex,” Oscar said. Because he’d never known when to stop. “I love you after.”
Aaron tugged gently on Oscar’s hair, smiling. “Come here,” he said, sliding up to sit against the pillow.
Oscar clambered towards him, straddling him, their nakedness so close and comfortable, even in its newness. Oscar wanted to press into him, to feel their wetness touch, to grind against him.
Aaron pulled him in, pressing a kiss to his mouth.
“I love you too,” he said as he pulled away.
Oscar fixed his gaze on Aaron’s eyes, so large without his glasses, sitting now on his bedside table. He brushed Aaron’s bangs from his brow.
I love you too. Could a heart ever be this full? Oscar wasn’t sure he could take it. His chest felt like a paper cage about to burst. If he looked down, he thought he might watch the evidence of his stitches come apart to let the butterflies escape, to let his heart fly across the short distance to Aaron. ButOscar didn’t look down. His destiny sat at eye level, and he would never look away.
I love you.
“Aaron?” Oscar murmured, his heart pounding against his ribcage, a hammer on a nail.
“Yes, baby?” Aaron mumbled, tucking Oscar’s hair behind his ear.
He swallowed, a rivet gun pressing the lump in his throat into a soft hard thing he swallowed, cementing his courage. And Oscar had it.
Oscar was happy.
Oscar was loved.
Oscar was feeling brave.
So Oscar said the words he’d never said out loud before.
“I want to tell you about Spike.”
13
SPIKE
