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“Yes,” I moan, my back arching at the thought.

“This is your hand around my cock. Your lips. Your pussy.”

“Alex, please.”

“What is it, baby? What do you need?”

“I want it to be real,” I reply in a breathy, high-pitched whimper. “I want to touch you.”

“Fuck,” he groans. Then after a moment where I can practically feel him fighting with himself, he grunts in a shallow sound. “Come here.”

Turning toward him, my eyes widen with surprise. He’s serious. He’s going to let me touch him.

When my gaze meets his, it’s as if he’s summoning me to him. I scurry off of the scaffolding, not caring about the brushes and palette left to dry.

There is turmoil in his eyes as I make my way over to him. He’s gripping his length so hard, it looks as if it hurts. Someday, I hope he looks back at this day and recognizes how hard he fought to deny this thing between us. I hope he gives himself some grace knowing he followed his heart first. He’ll see that none of this is his vice. It’s not weakness. It’s not even indulgence.

It’s fate.

He was always supposed to end up in this neighborhood, in this house, on this couch with me here.

“Alex,” I whisper as I kneel between his legs, touching his hand and caressing my fingers over his.

“I don’t want to be a monster,” he whispers as if it’s a cry for help.

Reaching up, I run my fingers over his jaw up to his neck. “Look at me. You are not a monster. You are a man, and I want you.”

With a heavy exhale, he lets his head hang back over the couch and releases the torturous grip on his cock. I wrap my fingers around it instead, and he sucks in a hissing gasp.

For a moment, I do nothing but marvel at the heat and smoothness in his rigid length. I’ve never really seen a hard cock this close before, and while I don’t know exactly what I should be doing, I follow the reactions and sounds he makes as I slowly stroke my hand from the base to the tip.

When I run my fist over the head, he whimpers, throwing an arm over his eyes. So, I do it again, this time slower.

He is so beautiful like this. Stretched out over the sofa, his body glistening and tense, each muscle of his torso constricting as I continue to stroke him slowly. I want to make him feel good, more than I’ve ever wanted to before. I want to help free him from the torment of his own mind. I want to unlock whatever it is that’s holding him back.

And when I look at his deep red, throbbing length, my mouth waters and I know what I want.

Peeking my tongue out, I wet my lips as I rise to my knees and bring my mouth to his shaft. Starting out with hesitation, I lick delicately along the underside and his hips nearly levitate off the couch.

“Fuck, Sunny.”

“Is this okay?” I ask.

He barks out a laugh. “Okay? Baby, it’s heaven.”

A smile pulls across my face as I lean down and lick another long line across the length. For a while, I get myself acquainted with his cock and find that I love everything about it. The taste, the shape, the size, the way it makes him react when I touch it and lick it.

I need more.

Parting my lips, I take him into my mouth, letting him slide across my tongue.

“Oh god, yes.” His voice is strained and raspy, and when I look up at him with his cock resting on my tongue, my eyes meet his.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers as he runs a hand into my hair.

Spurred on by his praise, I close my lips around him and suck him down deeper. He makes a sound as if he’s dying and it only grows louder when I suck on the tip.

I’m soon addicted to his reactions. Even when my jaw starts to ache and saliva drips from my chin, I keep up the movement of taking him back deeper each time and running my tight lips over the swollen head of his cock. He’s writhing now, looking as if I’m slowly killing him. Like I’m taking him apart, piece by piece.