Page 17 of Under The Twilight Rainfall
A hand lands on my hip, forcing me forward and drawing an unrestricted moan from my lips. My eyes have mostly adjusted to the darkness, as much as they can, and while I still can’t see his expression, I can feel Valen’s stare.
“It’s okay,” he says, encouraging my hips to move in small, unsure movements. “It’s okay, Dex.”
I don’t know when I slipped my hand under his sleep shirt, when I splayed it across his abs to act as an anchor, but his fingers curl over mine and squeeze, trapping me there.
“Lower,” he whispers into the heating air between us, and I realize I’m still grinding against his back. Any lower and my cock will be snug against his ass cheeks.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, I have to stop.
But Valen won’t let me pull away. He brushes his fingers over my temple, his breath hitting my cheek. “I’m here. I’m here for you. It’s okay.”
I bury my face in his shoulder, realigning my hips so the head of my cock, peeking beyond my boxers, can rut between Valen’s clothed cheeks. It becomes a mess of unchoreographed movements, of thrusting and grinding, until both our shorts are covered in my precum and I’m panting into Valen’s skin as my orgasm barrels to the surface.
He guides my hand up his chest, and I tease his nipple with my thumb until his breath comes out in little, choppy pants.
“Dex,” he moans softly, and my name sounding like pleasure on his lips has my balls drawing up so tight that the first spurt of cum is almost painful. But then I’m pinching that sensitive bud, drawing more noises from his lips, grinding against his ass, and coating us both in my cum.
I come back to myself slowly, listening to our breathing slow and feeling the thump of Valen’s heart beneath my palm. As the fact settles that I just humped the man I’ve been trying for years to forget, a man who I’ve marked as strictly off-limits, I try to pull away.
I need to put distance between us.
I need space.
I shouldn’t have fucking done that.
But Valen has my hand in a vice grip, and I notice his own breathing is still ragged and shallow.
“Don’t go.”
I muster up the nerve to lift my head from his shoulder, and while I see the erection tenting his shorts, he makes no move to take care of it. He keeps our fingers locked together, tiny tremors shooting through him.
“Do you need—”
“Just stay.”
And so I do. The need to flee evaporates, leaving behind a familiar warmth in my gut, one I want to bottle up and keep for those rainy days when there’s no one to put their hands on me and fill me with heat.
We don’t speak. Don’t even move as cum dries in my underwear.
Valen’s heartbeat slows, his breathing evens out, and soon enough I’m following him into sleep, wondering exactly what it is inside myself that I feel breaking apart with every breath before I’m taken by my dreams.
“Stickmeononemore of those. I dare you.”
Dex’s threats would sound so much more serious if his face didn’t flush every time our eyes meet. But other than the pink stains on his cheeks, there’s no other reminders of last night. We both got up this morning, showered off—separately—and before Dex could sneak away, I dragged him along for another day of fun.
Sure, I only got him to stop grumbling by promising that there will be opportunities for some of hisotherphotos on this outing, but I could see the relief on his face. I know his travel blog is popular, maybe even as popular as his private one, but for the last two days he’s been stressing about getting photos for his subscribers.
Does the man ever just relax?
If right now is any indication, then no, he absolutely does not. I drug him out to hop a flight to Dumaguete, then very promptly ushered him into a Jeepney before he could start making his own plans. Yeah, it was forty minutes of grumbling and vague threats sent in my direction, but now that we’re in Malatapay settling in the private boat I rented, he’s starting to loosen up.
He’s still throwing the occasional swear or threat, but I choose not to call him on his false bravado. I might annoy the hell out of him, but I also know him well enough to know he’s shook up and confused, and he needs us to be our brand of normal.
I can give him that.
“You know the sun is going to eat you alive, right?” I tease. “Do you think your shoulders really need more freckles?”
