Page 53 of Missile Tow
Chip collapsed on top of me, our perspiration joining as our exhausted bodies struggled to find equilibrium again. His cock slid out of my satisfied hole, and he adjusted so it was between us, a reminder that the glorious thing had been inside me. I knew I could easily go another round.
After our breathing had regulated, with him still on top of me, he lifted his head and gazed into my eyes. “You’re pretty amazing in bed, Van. You’re the perfect lover. Thank youfor that,” he whispered, kissing my nose. “The connection we shared,” he continued. “You seem to…” His voice trailed off.
“I seemed to what?” I asked, swiping at his sweaty forehead.
“You seem to know my body and how it responds when making love,” he said. “I probably should saywhen fucking, but what we just shared seemed like more than just fucking. Am I wrong?”
“You’re not wrong,” I agreed. “You aredefinitelynot wrong. Your cock is hot. Your performance was hot.”
“You thought my cock was hot?” he asked, his voice sounding disappointed for some unknown reason. “And my performance was hot? Is that everything?”
“Absolutely,” I agreed, ignoring what sounded like his displeasure for the moment. Was he fishing for more loving words than hot? “And you seem to know exactly what I like. No one has ever taken such care in making sure I was satisfied. Or involved. Actually, I’ve never felt more part of a couple during sex.”
He rolled over, slipping his arm under my neck, his free hand on my chest. “Have you always been so capable of saying what you want?” he asked, outlining my pecs. “Always so sure of yourself?”
I chuckled. “Wish I could say I’ve been,” I replied.
I stared at the ceiling of the cabin. Inlaid knotty pine complemented the paneled walls. Knots in the wood revealed animals and faces if you looked closely enough. I was reminded of lying on grass and watching clouds float by, imagining the creatures you could form from them. Like those moments, I felt content and comfortable with Chip and my surroundings.
“What changed?” he continued. “To me, you seem like a man who’s always been quite certain about his needs.”
“Here again, I wish.”
“Uh-oh,” he said, brushing a nipple and driving me insane with desire. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”
I rolled over to face him, propping myself up on an elbow. “I’ll share this as an example,” I began. “My ex never cuddled or remained by my side after sex. He’d orgasm, jump out of bed, and basically ignore me. I know, stupid thing for me to bring up, but I wanted intimacy. Before, during, after—whenever.”
“And you didn’t get that?”
“I didn’t. But… I’m not here to blame Evan. Because truthfully, I never asked,” I explained, careful not to become the guy who bashes an ex. “My lack of satisfaction fell solely on me. I should’ve asked or, at a minimum, told him what I needed.”
“I’m hearing a lack of communication,” Chip said, kissing me gently on the lips. “Well, kiddo. Let me tell you this. I don’t get the impression you don’t ask anymore.”
“And that’s because I made a conscious decision to voice my inner thoughts if I ever had the chance at love again.”
Chip’s eyes focused on mine. “Okay,Mr. Inner Voice. What sorta chances are you experiencing right now?”
His direct question caught me off guard. I wanted to tell him I was two seconds from professing my love after a performance like he’d just provided. But my inner voice didn’t want to tie great sex to my love feelings for him.
“I’m lying here in a glorious post-sex fog,” I answered. “So… my answer might be prejudiced by my satisfaction.”
“May I be even more direct, Van?” he asked. He had my attention. My heart rate increased when I realized I may have painted myself into a corner yakking about my inner voice’s honesty. He continued. “If we’re verbalizing inner voices tonight, I’d like to share mine with you.”
I shifted off my elbow and lay backward on the bed. His hand remained on my chest. If he wanted to, I imagined he could feel my heart rate speeding up. I’d brought the subject of inner voicesup, so if I didn’t like what he said, I had no one to blame but myself.
“Go ahead. I encourage you to share,” I replied. I had hope that he might speak about where we were in our relationship, and what his opinion regarding us having so much sex was, so I decided to bring the subject up. “Real quick, though,” I added. “We’ve been doing this… you know… the sex stuff for nearly a week now, and I was wondering what you’re thinking.”
He didn’t hesitate to answer. “I think I like having sex with you.Scratch that!”he amended. “IknowI like having sex with you.”
“Your inner voice approves of our sex?” I asked, fishing for more detail.
“Yes,” he continued. “And my inner voice is warning me about falling in love with you.”
He sat up, repositioning to face me, seemingly waiting for my reaction after voicing what his warning was. I hadn’t expected him to have the same thoughts I’d been wrestling with.
“Warning you, huh?” I asked, also sitting up and facing him.
I reached for his hand to encourage the conversation. Old me would’ve clammed up and been afraid to hear whatever he was about to reveal. But that approach didn’t fit with who I wanted to be, attempted to be,neededto be, now. I knew where I was emotionally and had my questions about him, but this conversation may make my decision unnecessary.
