by Damian Bloom
He flicks the fingers of an upturned hand to me. “Give me your hand.” I do as he says, and, taking it gingerly, he clears his throat. “I’ve got a very important question for you.”
Breath caught in my throat, pulse thudding in my ears, I nod. My eyes widen. If he gets down on one knee, it’s definitely a dream.
“Luis Fowler…” From his mouth, my name whips the silence of the room like thunder.
“Yes?” I say, voice low and shaky as a whimper. I almost wince under the heaviness of the moment.
Adam puffs up his chest. “Will you do me the incredible honor of being my boyfriend?”
Finally, I let out the breath I’ve been holding. Snatching my hand back from his grip, I slap his forearm. “Why’d you have to be that dramatic, though? You almost gave me a heart attack.”
His eyebrows twitch in surprise, high on his forehead.
“Yes, of course I’ll be your boyfriend,” I say, heart returning to its usual pace.
Adam frowns. “What did you think I was gonna say?” Quickly, his features expand in the face of realization. “Ooh, you thought I was gonna propose…”
Thoroughly amused by the thought, he begins to laugh. Although I roll my eyes, I have to laugh too.
“Would you have said yes?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
Adam squints. “Why not?”
“Not now at least. Too much, too soon, I suppose. Besides, didn’t you say you never want to get married again?”
“I did,” he says, nodding. “But I said a lot of things that I only now see were complete bullshit.”
A meaningful silence lays over us. Eventually, plucking his phone from his pants, Adam checks the time. “Don’t you have to get to work?” he asks.
Sliding a hand under his shirt, I hook a finger into the waistband of his boxer briefs and pull him closer to me. “Noon shift,” I say, my voice soft and gooey like melted butter. “That should give us a few hours.”
Divining my intentions, Adam smirks and runs a rough finger over my jaw. “Whatever could we do for that long, I wonder.”
“I’ve got a few ideas.” As one of my hands brushes over his rock-hard abs, the other yanks his fly down. Adam’s crotch bulges immediately. I undo the one button keeping his jeans tied and expose the tight underwear underneath. I can see every vein on his hard, thick cock, pressed as it is against the black fabric of his briefs. Adam’s already breathing heavier, and we haven’t even started.
I press a kiss above the waistband of his underwear on a furry stretch of tight muscle while my fingers push the fabric down to reveal the throbbing treasure underneath. Once free, his erection springs to attention, smacking my chin. I wrap a hand around it and gently stroke it as I direct my kisses from his pelvis to the base of his cock, and then down to his balls. I take a deep whiff of the familiar, erotic smell. Then, I lick his entire length, starting from his ballsac, where I plunge the tip of my tongue deep between his testicles, up to the swollen tip of his penis. In the process, I slather it with saliva that helps me move on to more thorough stroking.
Adam sighs and moans above me, doing his best to keep his voice down. “I missed that magical mouth,” he coos.
And I missed spoiling him like this. My own dick is painfully hard, strained in my briefs. There’s nothing, I realize, that turns me on more than being the cause of Adam’s pleasure. I could spend hours between these muscular thighs, working my tongue numb on his glorious erection, hearing him pant and moan and whine as I drive him into orgasm after orgasm.
Sliding my hands to his ass, I grip his cheeks and pull him toward me as his cock plunges down my throat. I remind myself to breathe through my nose and relax my throat until, eventually, my nose buries into the trimmed hair at the base of his penis. His fingers slither through my hair, and he bucks his hips closer to my face, challenging the depths of my throat.
Then, suddenly, he pulls back, withdrawing his dick completely, slick with my saliva. I gaze into his eyes as he rubs his cock against my face, over my cheeks, my mouth, my nose, a deliciously depraved desire in his eyes.
Quickly, he bends and takes his jeans and underwear off for more freedom. He then lifts one foot onto the bed, flanking my head on one side. Lining his cock up with my mouth, he pushes against my lips again. “Open that pretty mouth for me,” he whispers, following the command with a deep growl that sets my skin on fire.
Adam holds my head in place with two hands and, impatient, starving, begins pounding my throat.
Beyond my door, the house teems with the sounds of another morning—people talking, laughing, walking about. The contrast between that and the debauched sounds I make, choking on my boyfriend’s monster, pushes me into unexplored territories of sexual arousal. Adam, as well, can hardly contain the barely human grunts that escape from his mouth.
My mouth hangs open, begging for more, when Adam pulls back again. Still holding my head between his hands, he kneels before me and kisses me savagely. His tongue invades my mouth like he knows it belongs to him and no one else. “I want to fuck your brains out,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine. “We don’t have lube, do we?”
My lips curl up into a contented smile. “We do,” I say. “I got us some before we—you know, fought.”
Adam smiles, too, in relief. I bend down and pull open a bed drawer. Adam takes the lube and rubs it all over his bare cock. “Where do you want me to fuck you?” he asks.
I untie the string keeping my pajama pants up and let them fall to the floor. Then, I push my briefs down, too, and I step out of the clothes. I look around and know immediately what I want. I cross the bedroom and stop in front of the flimsy curtains of my window. Pressing my hands to the wall on either side of the window, I push my ass toward Adam, arch my back, and shoot him an inviting gaze over my shoulder.
Adam licks his lips and squeezes some more lube into his palm. Pressing his chest into my back, he slips his hand between our bodies and rubs the lube onto and into my hole, sliding in one finger at first, then two, and finally three. I gasp with the pleasure I’ve been denied for the past two weeks, closing my eyes tight and focusing on feeling him inside of me.
But I get tired of his fingers quickly, and I push my ass back, wiggling it in a hard-to-miss request. “You’re so impatient today,” Adam mutters. His breath tickles my ear before he sucks my earlobe into his mouth and gently bites on it.
And then, suddenly, after way too long, he plunges into me, bare, dropping his bulky torso onto my back and wrapping his arms around my waist. He holds me tight, so that I don’t flail around as he mercilessly pounds me from behind.
My window points to the side of the house, towering over a narrow street between our house and the next. Now, the only two people out there are a middle-aged man in a hat, leaning against the opposite building and smoking a cigarette, and a young woman in an obvious rush. Concealed by the curtain, I’m invisible to them. However, for some depraved reason, the sheer idea of people being so close, yet having no idea that behind this wall, Adam’s railing into me like a machine makes me leak with precum.
Adam bends over me, resting his chin on my shoulder and moaning into my ear as he pushes in and out of my ass. Despite how hard I try to keep my lips sealed, it’s impossible not to whimper. With every thrust, Adam hits against my prostate, and the sensation is so intense that it numbs my mind. If I weren’t enveloped and held up by his arms, I’m sure I’d fall to the floor in a dazed, horny mess.
Between pants, the only word that makes it past my lips is his name. “Adam…”
One large hand wraps around my neck and squeezes slightly. “That’s it, baby,” he says. “I love hearing you moan out my name.”
So I repeat it. I whisper his name again as the hand that’s not gripping my neck smacks my ass. Power seeps out of me, and I let it. I want him to have all the power. I crave to be under his control, to truly feel like I belong to him. We almost crash into the window, but Adam turns us
around and pushes me against the door.
Through it, I hear steps, voices—none right on the other side of it, but farther away. But as Adam wrecks my body, I don’t know if we’re silent enough to not be heard.
I look over my shoulder to a sight I’d like to have every day for the rest of my life—Adam’s frowning in concentration, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Strands of hair fall over his face. Chewing on his lips, he’s fucking me so hard that my knees shake. When he catches me looking, he flashes me a smile that steals my heart all over again. He winks, then lifts his hand from my throat up to my jaw. He lowers himself onto my back again, and we crash into the door with a thud. Then, he covers my mouth in a famished kiss, his fingers digging into my jaw.
“I love it when you dominate me like this,” I confess.
“Of course you do. Because you’re mine. All mine.” His grin widens, and he slips a finger into my mouth. I begin to suck on it immediately, and I know I’m doing the right thing when he moans in response and picks up the pace.
Suddenly, he stops thrusting into me but clamps a hand onto my shoulder. “Come here,” he says. He drags me to the bed and pushes me on it. As I lie on my back, he lifts my legs, holding them up with his stone-hard shoulders, and penetrates me again, as if every second he’s not inside of me hurts. “I love you, damn it,” he says, teeth grinding. When he lies down over me, there’s almost no part of me that’s not covered by or touched by him.
I want him to fully envelop me, to invade and claim every cell of my body.
“I love you,” he mutters over and over again. He whispers it into my ear, breathes it against my lips, tongue, cheeks, neck as he covers me with kisses. Every hit against my prostate pushes me closer to a cliff I’m almost on the edge of.
“Adam, I’m so close.”
“Good, so am I.”
Straightening his legs, he forcefully thrusts into me a few more times, and then, just as I feel the first shakes of an orgasm jostle me, he fills me up with his semen—so warm, so right.
We stay there for what feels like years—sweaty, shuddering messes, breathing heavy, bursting with uncontainable happiness. “I love you too, babe,” I say, rubbing his back. Although his cock softens, he doesn’t yet pull out, and neither of us is in a hurry to break the intimacy.
I continue to scratch and caress his back until his breathing grows suspiciously rhythmic. “Are you sleeping?”
No reply, other than his slow breathing. “Adam?”
My knees are still pressed to my chest, my legs up on his shoulders, and it begins to hurt. I manage to gently get him off of me with minimal cooperation on his part, and he doesn’t wake up. Now that I take a better look at him, he looks exhausted. But a pleased smile floats over his lips. Everything’s okay again. He can rest now.
After I watch him sleep for an embarrassingly long time—I thought I’d never see this gorgeous sleeping face again—I reach for Our Story, the pages he brought me. There are many moments I hold dear and love reliving through his writing, rejoicing that they meant as much to him as they did to me—that time I slept on him all through the night, all the times we read to each other, dancing in his driveway at the end of my second first date. But I’m surprised to stumble over little, apparently insignificant moments that I don’t even remember—bringing him a leaf I thought looked cool, knowing exactly when he’d like a cup of tea without him even expressing his desire for one…I never thought Adam might notice me with the same intensity I noticed him.
At the end of the text, three italicized words serve as a promise: To Be Continued.
As soon as I finish reading, he tosses, rubs his face, and wakes up. He notices my eyes glistening with tears before I can feel them water. “Everything okay?”
I snuggle up to him, bury my face in his chest.
“Hey,” he says, running a comforting hand over the back of my head. “What’s wrong?”
I squeeze him tighter to me. Please don’t be a dream. Please don’t ever go away again. “Nothing’s wrong,” I say, choking on warm tears. “In fact, everything’s perfect. Magical.”
With a hand on both shoulders, Adam holds me at arm’s length so he can look into my eyes. “Damn right. And I’ll make sure that it only ever gets more magical from now on.”
His words light up fireworks in my chest. Is it fair for one person to be as happy as me? “You promise?”
“I promise.” He looks around my room at the towers and armies of books. “Fate itself could be against us,” he says, “but I predict a love story greater than any book has ever known. All of your favorite characters had better move over.”
I press my cheek to his chest again and listen to his heart thump inside. “I love you, Adam.”
I feel his cheek rest against the top of my head. “And I love you.”
30
Adam
“You sure you want me on camera?” Luis’s eyes shift nervously in the direction of my desk, where I’m setting everything up for the live stream that’s scheduled to start in ten minutes. “I can sit over here, so only you can see me,” he says, ambling over to our usual writing table. “Or I could go hide in the bedroom.”
With a final look at my computer to make sure everything’s ready, I walk to him and take his hand in mine. “Everyone will love you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.” I run a hand over his smooth cheek. “You’re pretty hard not to love.”
As my heartbeat quickens under his gaze, I wonder if his eyes will ever stop stealing my breath away.
“It doesn’t hurt starting to hype you up to the public. Who knows, there might be a larger romance-thriller reader overlap than we think.”
Since Luis and I made up, life has changed significantly for the better—in many ways, it’s regained its purpose for both of us. In Luis’s case, it put an end to a creative dry spell and revived his urge to write. However, with it came horrifying regret over having apparently deleted all traces of his manuscript. All traces he knew of, at least. I was pretty annoyed to find that out and made Luis promise he’d never do something that silly again. Luckily, he’s as reckless with his work as I am paranoid. Even if he never asked me to, I used to back his work up on my own cloud, as well as my external hard drive, every time I’d find his laptop unguarded. I can’t help it—it’s a compulsion at this point. Some lessons you learn the hard way, and you learn them well.
So, fortunately, I was able to give Luis his manuscript back—at least the latest version I had of it. It was funny to see a very similar reaction to the one I had when his brother saved me years ago—eyes bulging with disbelief, overwhelming gratitude. Like seeing the dead come to life.
“I’m not good with public speaking,” Luis whines, eying the computer like he’s meeting his executioner.
“You only have to speak if you want to.” Bracing my arms against the tall backrest of his chair, I lean forward and line my face up to Luis’s. My eyes stick to his full lips like molasses. “Just smile and look cute, and I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
Luis produces a meek smile. “I’ll be your lovely assistant?”
“Exactly.”
I bring my mouth to him and steal a kiss I hope will tide me over for a couple of hours.
There are other reasons why I insisted on Luis participating in my live stream. Besides wanting him to develop the essential skill of interacting with readers, I’m tired of keeping him to myself as some sort of secret. Something inside of me is dying to share him with my world. We’ve begun planning meet-the-family dinners, but it’s not enough.
Over the past few months, he’s become an integral part of my life—Oh, who am I kidding? Luis has become the center of my life, and introducing him to my faithful readers feels not only right, but also necessary. Before Luis, the only thing giving my life purpose was my writing. And what meaning would anything I write have with no one to enjoy it?
My readers are family, too. We’re equally involved i
n this crazy adventure that started five years ago, and as I now embark on another crazy adventure with Luis, I want them by our side.
Ultimately, I guess I also just want to show off this gorgeous man I’m lucky enough to call my boyfriend.
Luis places his laptop on the space I’ve cleared up for him on the desk. From the corner of my eye, I notice his foot tapping the floor anxiously. Under the desk, I find his hand and squeeze it hard for encouragement. I’m here.
And then we’re live.
I smile at the camera while the viewers trickle in. A few hundred people tune in immediately. “Hey, everyone,” I say. Luis squeezes my hand tighter as his eyes lock on the ever-increasing number of viewers. “You might have noticed something’s different today. I’m joined by a very special guest.” Wrapping my right arm around Luis’s shoulders, I lean to the left and pull him into the frame so that everyone can take a better look at him. “This is Luis.”
Luis smiles and waves, and I’m certain he’s already broken a few dozen hearts.
“Luis is a young and talented budding writer, and he writes—”I drag the words out and pause for dramatic effect“—romance.” I grin at Luis as his cheeks pink up. He quickly lowers his gaze to his laptop.
Thinking back on the last time we spoke about romance on a live stream, I keep a hawk’s eye on the comments, watching out for any rudeness. However, as dozens of messages pop up on our screen, I’m happy to discover everyone’s on their best behavior.
Welcome, Luis.
He’s so cuuute.
I cover my mouth with a hand and stifle my laughter. With a polite smile frozen on his face, Luis elbows me. “I told you they’d love you,” I whisper in a voice low enough not to be picked up by the mic.
Yay, romance, a certain Sam214 writes. I love romance. I’m probably in the minority here…Where can we find Luis’s work?
I turn to Luis, checking if he wants to answer that question by himself. Leaning in closer to the mic, he says, “I haven’t published anything yet.” His voice comes out a little strangled by nerves, but he clears his throat and tries again, managing to sound much more confident the second time. “But I’m working on it. My first novel is almost over. I’m writing the final scenes of the first draft, and that’s what I’ll be working on today.” He draws back from the mic, then remembers something. “By the way, hi, everyone, and thank you for the warm welcome.”
