“From the beginning?” he smiles.
I nod.
“Guess I’ve just been too afraid to let go of the past,” I admit.
For once, he's trying so hard to be a gentleman.
“If you need a bed tonight, you can stay here. I'll sleep on the couch. We could listen to the rain if you don't feel like talking. Or fall asleep in front of a movie.”
“Olsen. Nobody’s sleeping on the couch.”
I lace a hand through his hair.
It’s something I’ve been wanting to do ever since I first sat behind him in class.
“I could read to you,” Olsen continues. I reach for his hand.
“Or…” he says, offering himself as medicine, “I could kiss it better.”
Sinking into each other, we let desire take over.
And at last, the walls crumble.
“Kiss it better,” I whisper. “Please.”
the twenty second chapter
YOUNG MARCO
I’ve never been touched like this.
Every caress between us feels so deliciously intentional.
A slow, sensual unfolding that goes far beyond lust or desire.
How have I ever let myself believe that an orgasm is something to be rushed? The way that Olsen holds me, the way he moves inside me, it feels as though I’ve spent years listening to a song from the other end of a tunnel, and have finally stepped onto the stage.
Hands and mouths say everything they’ve been forbidden to say.
Skin presses against skin, a thirst that has long been denied.
It’s without a doubt, at least until now, the most erotically charged night of my life.
???
But it doesn’t end there.
He makes me feel loved and seen in every way.
Intimacy flows far beyond closed doors.
No need to step away the minute we hear footsteps.
No need to look over my shoulder when we flirt.
This man holds my hand in public, and puts his arm around me in crowded bars.
He utters words likeweanduswithout even blinking.
