Page 15 of Festive Fugitive
“I don’t have lice, you know,” he jokes, but wraps his arms around himself and sits on the bed. I can’t read him right now.
I lick my lips, sitting up with the blanket around me. He’s close now, and I can’t help but react to the scent of his damp body. “You deserve a comfortable bed.”
“We’ll be fine. Look how big this bed is. The comforter too.” Eli crawls toward the headboard to pull on the bedding he was sitting on. He might be skinny, but I get a view of his rounded ass in the pajama pants. He glances back at me, and some hair flops over his eyes. “Or is it me? I could take the blanket, you the comforter, so we don’t pull on it? Or swap tomorrow?” he’s starting to babble again, and I can’t help but find it endearing. Most of the men I worked with were curt. Especially with me. But he’s so genuine, unsure, fragile from malnutrition and struggle.
I rise to my knees and grab his hand, leaning close. It’s only now that the aroma of his skin and hair hits me with full force. He’s earthy yet fresh, like a dewy clearing deepin the woods. Like moss, and wild berries, and sun on my skin.
But I don’t want to lie and enjoy the comfort of his fragrance. I wish to roll over and bury myself in him, rocking my body until lightning descends on us, and we both stir, as close to heaven as a living person can get.
I let the blanket fall and spread my knees so he can see why I’d rather keep a degree of separation. I’m ready for him to recoil, but it is what it is, and he needs to know, whatever the outcome.
His eyes widen, face flushes, but he doesn’t pull his hand out of mine. I’m not yet sure what to make of it, but he speaks. “Oh. I… Do you need a minute?” His eyes travel from between my legs and up to my face. “Or is thisfor me?”
I should lie.
I should deny it and leave to take care of my problem, but what is the point of that? If I’m to be around him all the time, this is bound to happen again, and we need a system based on honesty.
So I nod, clearing my throat. “I didn’t want to make this awkward.”
With Eli for once rendered silent, I get up, because while he needs to know, it’s not like he’s expected to do something about it.
The next lightning strike hits so close to the cabin, my ears ring. My heart goes frantic, and I act on instinct. I fall forward and cover Eli with my body in panic. If the roof falls down on us, at least I’ll be on top. I hate storms. I fucking hate them.
“Um… it’s okay,” he whispers after a moment and strokes my side.
Is he… trying to comfort me? I realize with embarrassment that he must sense how tense I am, how fast myheart is beating. How useless. I’m supposed to be his protector. Someone who will keep him out of harm’s way until he’s somewhere safe.
And yet, it’s so nice. I don’t remember ever being comforted. Sure, I’ve fucked my way through lots of guys, and that’s meant occasional cuddles before or after sex, but this feels different. Like he cares. Like he’s not put off by my weakness.
When I dare glance into his eyes, he swallows, then shifts his head a little closer and gives my lips a tender kiss.
I never expected this.
Not in a million years.
His lips taste of mint yet are so soft and warm I itch to probe them with my tongue, explore and consume all of that sweet affection. I rock between his open thighs. My mind’s a jungle—deep, dark, and dangerous—I can only hope he doesn’t regret taking a step inside.
When he makes a little whimper against my lips, my dick twitches as if it’s already conditioned to get hard at the cute sounds Eli makes. All my blood drains from my head, so I don’t have the capacity to overthink how this changes our situation. I can onlyfeel.
His fingers climb up my arms, to my shoulders. The tip of his tongue teases its way between my lips for a deeper kiss. His dick’s rock-hard against mine. The scent of his hair, his skin. The shape of his hips in my hands when I slide them down.
He wants this. Wants me. Maybe he doesn’t know the depths of who I am and what I did, but he already knows more about me than any other lover I’ve had.
“I’m going to eat you alive,” I mumble, pulling up his top, because I can’t stand another minute of it being in my way. The fabric stretches over Eli’s face, but once he’s freeof it, those gray eyes settle on me, dark with passion. He’s delectable—a young lamb separated from its flock—but I won’t hurt it, not really, just tease it with gentle nips to have a taste of flesh without losing him altogether.
I want to savor this, savorhim, for as long as I can.
I tried to keep myself in check, but that’s out the door now. He’s mine to protect, mine to hold, mine to fuck.
His gasps are quicker. Does he realize he’s stepped into the wolf’s den? Is he afraid, or does he like it here?
Eli’s pupils are wide, and even his pale chest is flushed. As soon as the T-shirt’s on the floor, he grabs my face and pulls me in for another kiss while he grinds his hips against me in the same frantic rhythm I am.
A hundred lightning bolts could be hitting around this cabin and I wouldn’t know, because my heart is beating too loudly to hear anything other than the sounds in this bedroom.
This man. Eli. My savior. My charge. He is my whole world right now, and nothing else matters.
I grab his bottoms and drag them down, eager to touch his long legs, then cover them with love bites before finishing my masterpiece with rivulets of cum. He will be mine, and I want him to understand that.
