Page 33 of The Art of Drowning

I never pretended to be casual where Callum was concerned, and I wasn’t about to start now. If anything, now I was even more desperate for him. With Sam gone, it felt like there was a possibility for us again. Like maybe this was fate’s way of making shit right. Like we’d been destined and Sam had ruined us.

I ground my body against his, pressing our cocks together through our stupid, obstructive clothing. And then I was kissing my way down his throat, tugging his shirt up so I could see all of him. I shoved the fabric up his body, and he only let go of me long enough to raise his arms and help me strip it off him.

If I was desperate, then Callum was matching my energy. He grabbed my face and pulled me down, slanting his mouth against mine as he writhed beneath me. God, how had I fucking lived so long without this? How had I managed to walk through every day knowing that I’d walked away from this? That we’d both made what I knew now was the wrong choice.

We could have had so much.

We couldn’t make up the time we lost.

But I kissed him like it was possible if I wanted it badly enough. Like I could turn back time and steal back the days that were taken from us and rewrite the years we lost.

We were each rutting against the other one. Too many layers of fabric were between us, and I suddenly needed them gone. I needed Callum naked underneath me so that I knew he was real.

I sat up and tugged my shirt off over my head. Callum’s eyes darted to my chest. His fingers brushed against my piercing. “This is new.”

“Not really,” I said, not wanting to talk anymore. Callum must have read my mind, because his hands went for my pants and he practically tore them open. We shifted around, pushing and tugging at our clothes, at each other’s, until they were gone.

Callum rolled over on top of me and straddled me with his legs. They were thicker than I remembered. Hairier. Sexier. I ran my hands up his thighs and for a second he just looked at me and I looked at him. It was like we needed a moment to let our brains catch up with our bodies.

Then he lowered himself down. His lips ghosted against mine. Once. Then again. On the third pass, he licked the seam of my mouth, seeking entry. I opened on a sigh. Letting him in was the easiest thing I’d ever done.

Our kiss rolled through me like a storm coming in off the horizon. The energy in the room shifted, and Callum started rocking against me. Our bodies pressed against one another. Our dicks not perfectly aligned, but close enough. Close enough to drive me crazy, to push me toward the edge.

I didn’t want to go over yet. Right now, I wanted to savor every moment. Every kiss. Every breath and every bit of friction. The way my pulse hammered against my skin, the way I could feel Callum tremble as he held himself back.

It was everything I’d been missing, and it still wasn’t enough. I wanted him inside me. Wanted to taste him on my tongue. Wanted him to ride my face, to fuck my throat. To do things we hadn’t even known about when we were fumbling teens, too caught up in love and lust to worry about anything. Too busy feeling invincible to see the wall we were about to run into.

There was no wall now. No barrier. Nothing stopping us from going as far as we wanted. If it were up to me, we’d go all the way, and we’d never stop. We’d never let anyone tell us ever again that we couldn’t be together.

“I wish I brought supplies.”

Callum’s laugh was breathy. “I can understand why condoms weren’t on your mind when preparing for a funeral. I’d have been concerned if they were.”

We kissed as we laughed, still sliding our bodies against one another. Still relearning how the other one felt when we touched. Sex with Callum had always been great. Mind-blowing. And fun. It didn’t seem to matter what we did. Whether it was shopping, watching a movie, hanging out, or having earth-shattering sex, he’d always found a way to make it fun.

As though he sensed the energy shift, he looked at me, his brow furrowed. “You okay?”

He brought his hand to my face and traced my brow with his fingertips. Then my mouth, and I gently nipped at his fingers.

“I’d be better if you could rail me.” It had been years. Years and years and years since I’d bottomed for anyone. It was stupid and sentimental, and it made me feel kind of silly right now when faced with the last person I’d bottomed for. I didn’t know how to admit it to him, that I’d been unable to move on enough to let another man have me that way.

I didn’t have any such delusions that Callum waited for me and hadn’t let other men touch him in certain ways. That he’d saved himself, or part of himself, just for me. It wasn’t a necessary requirement for him being here, for him touching me. And it wasn’t something I’d consciously saved for him.

At first, I hadn’t done it because, after Callum, I hadn’t wanted to date anyone. And when I first started dating again, I dated a few women who were all perfectly nice and perfectly unwilling to peg me. After them, I dated a few guys and for whatever reason, whether consciously or not, they’d all preferred to bottom, with the exception of one of my exes who didn’t like penetration at all and preferred to get off in other ways.

Not defaulting to penetration sure provided a lot of different experiences, and I wanted to use what I’d learned to rock Callum’s world. One thing I’d learned from all of this was that the future was uncertain. If we only had right now, if tonight was all we had, I was going to make it count in every way that I could.

Capturing his mouth again, I kissed him until we were breathless, until he was writhing on top of me, desperate and needy and so, so close. I could feel it in the way he twitched and squirmed. Hear it in the way his moans hitched as he ground himself against me.

But I didn’t want him to finish like that. I didn’t want him to rut against me and come on my leg or my stomach or wherever else. I wanted to be the one to pull the orgasm out of him. The one to bring him to the edge and keep him there and only let him come when I knew it would make him fly. I wanted to be the one to make him fall apart.

So I rolled him onto his back, pinned his arms above his head, and gave him a look that said don’t move, and then I kissed my way down his body. I licked at his nipples and smiled at how I knew what sound he’d make when I did. How I knew he’d let out a squeak, and then a groan, and then a whimper. He squeaked because he was shocked it felt good. Groaned, because he remembered that it could feel even better. And whimpered because he was desperate for more.

I made my way further down his body, kissing. Touching. My hands were everywhere like I needed to prove that he was real. That he was here. That after all this time, he was here and he still wanted me.

Not as much as I wanted him.

“Damien,” Callum rasped, his cock red and twitching. The tip glistened with precum.