Page 142 of Sweat

“I have an idea,” Rowan says. “Let me take you someplace pretty. A pretty view for a pretty boy.”

He drives us to school, of all places. Parks in the lot beside the horticulture building, and he holds my hand until we’re at the gate to the public garden. My stomach aches from too much food and all my memories of Erica and I. There aren’t a lot of places in Sacramento I’m going to miss, but I’ll miss this place.

I stop at every informational plaque, even though I’ve read them all dozens of times over, and I marvel at every lizard that scurries across the path. Soon, we pick a bench under a shade tree, and I lean against Rowan’s side like he’s a damn stone pillar, completely stable. He wraps one arm around my back and the other rubs my arm that’s slung around his waist.

“Don’t let go,” I murmur, eyes closed, heart and soul completely at his mercy.

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, baby.” And even when I hear voices nearby and footsteps crunching down the path in front of us, he doesn’t let go.

“Marry me.”

His chest vibrates as he exhales a quiet chuckle against my head. “Cut it out.”

“I’m serious,” I whine.

“I know,” he whispers, touching a kiss to my head. “You’re mine, okay? You’re already mine. I love you.”

“Mmm,” I hum, suddenly unable to do much else. My body relaxes into the feel of Rowan, into his scent, his touch, and the sound of his heart beating close to my ear.

By nightfall, I’m feeling more like a functioning human being. Mav has been staying in Ma’s where all of Erica’s things make him feel safe, so my room has been a small paradise for Rowan and I. It’s cluttered and there’s no AC, but my bed is big enough for two and my box fans muffle any noise we make after bedtime. It’s not San Jose, but as long as I’m with my man, I’m good.

We shower separately, which sucks, but there’s only one bathroom here, and it would freak Ma out too much to see us head in for a shower together. While Rowan showers, I’m already on my bed in boxers, hair still damp, and I’m scrolling through the San Jose State class catalogue for the hundredth time, considering my options. Thinking about school distracts my mind from thinking about Erica, and it puts a drop of excitement back into my nerves.

It was a no-brainer to settle on kinesiology as my new major, but I’m still wavering on whether I want to track myself toward physical therapy or sports management. Either way. I’m thinking I’d like to get my Masters after graduating, so I set myself up for success with a good career. Rowan loves the thought of being our bread-winner, but I have my heart set on us being a team.

He comes into my room already dressed in cotton sleep shorts and a tank top, but he pulls the top off after locking my door so he can press our bare chests together when we cuddle, I hope. He crawls over me and straddles my hips, a dangerous position that invites more than just cuddles and kisses.

I let my phone slip free of my fingers as Rowan’s parted lips touch mine. It thuds on the rug, but I don’t give a fuck. Myhands grip Rowan’s ass and pull him down flush so his crotch fits against mine.

We kiss and grind, and my cock swells in my boxers enough to feel wet. Sticking my hands inside Rowan’s shorts, I squeeze and tug on his taut ass. Underneath the scent of my body wash, I find that Rowan scent that drives me up the wall. I lift my knees, plant my feet on the bed, and buck my hips up to match his gyrations.

Moaning and grunting in my mouth, I know I’ve got him on the hook. It doesn’t take much, but Rowan is better at denying himself than I am. He finds pleasure in denial, and I find pleasure in his control. Tonight, though, I could really use his control without any of the denial.

His mouth devours me. First my lips, then my neck, then my poor little nipples that are far too sensitive for the joys Rowan gives them. They tighten under his lips. Soft kisses each to harden, then he picks one and nurses from it like it’s the very tip of my cock. I shiver and moan, legs flexing and dick twitching.

“Fuck, Row,” I sigh, tracing my finger around his tight, little rim. It never ceases to amaze me the amount of times I’ve gotten my cock all the way up there when his hole is so deliciously tight.

The closest bottle of lube is in my nightstand, but I know from experience that horny-Rowan can take one finger dry so long as I just hold it inside like a plug rather than fuck him with it. My sweet boyfriend loves to be filled. It’s his favorite thing in the world next to soccer and cuddling. My favorite is watching him come all over us while I pump him full of mine. Perfectly complementary.

But I’ll admit, being especially needy has also made me increasingly curious.

“Row,” I whimper as his tongue flutters across my nipple.

“Tell me what you want,” Rowan growls against my chest before pinching that delicate nub between his lips and tugging.

A layer of anxious fear on my tongue, I breathe, “Will you top me?”

His tongue sneaks back into his mouth, and he darts his chin up, touching it to my chest and staring at me with his eyes as big as I’ve ever seen them.

“Are you sure you want that right now?” he asks, quiet and haunting.

I take his face and draw him up to press our mouths together. I lick the drool from the corner of his mouth and suckle his bottom lip, then I move my mouth to his ear. “I wanna feel what you feel when I’m inside you.”

His moan shudders, and I can tell by the way his hips keep grinding that he’s mulling it over seriously. “I just don’t want to risk hurting you. Not tonight.”

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