Page 61 of The True-Blue Romance

Sweat covers my body and my legs shake as he continues to torture me with his mouth. Finally, after forever, he presses a lubed finger into me, and I almost sob with relief. Until he bites my ass cheek and gently presses against my prostate, making me shout into the mattress underneath me. I want to come with him inside me.

“Shhhhhh, I’ve got you,” Joey reassures me, hands spreading me farther apart as he rises to his knees behind me, his cock pressing against my ass cheek. The cool air of the bedroom makes the precum he smears across my skin apparent, a sharp contrast to the fire flowing through my body. I must be mumbling without realizing it because Joey shushes me like a wayward horse again, his hand gently pressing against the small of my back as he pushes into me in one gentle glide.

Oh god.

Joey grabs my hair and yanks my head up, tilting it so that I can’t take my gaze off the mirror. His chest heaves as he stays still inside me, seemingly almost overcome with emotion himself. He tugs and tugs until I lift up and grip the headboard, the wood creaking under my tight grip. Joey pants hard, his gaze moving to look between us where we’re joined.

“You’re mine, Andrew. Never doubt that again for the rest of your life.”

“I won’t,” I promise, voice cracking on the vow.

“If you do, I’ll remind you, over and over until you can’t forget.”

With his hand still in my hair, he starts a relentless pace. The sound is indecent—slapping skin, the lube making the sort of noise that could make me blush if I wasn’t already a million degrees past too warm. All the while, I watch us in the mirror. Joey looks like a king, riding his prized stallion. The fact I’m the prized stallion could make me weep with joy. I dreamt of moments like this for twenty years, and now it’s real. Joey Rossi is making love to me, his eyes full of fierce fire and desire, his lips parted because I’m giving him as much pleasure as he’s giving me.

“Fuck, you’re so tight for me. Come. Come on my cock so I can come. Baby, come.”

I groan from the pit of my belly and come without being touched. The orgasm feels profound but lacking at the same time. But I see stars when, at the last moment, Joey reaches underneath me to take my wet cock in his hand, gripping me tight and giving me that final burst of orgasm that makes me incapable of holding myself up any longer. But despite my body losing grip on reality, my brain is alert enough to feel and hear Joey coming right after me. He keeps thrusting shallowly, eyes trained on my ass as his cum leaks out around his cock. It’s dirty but right at the same time.

Joey collapses on top of me, his hands tracing along my arms to reach my hands and grip them tight. Covered in sweat and cum, I’ve never felt more loved in my life. Joey presses his face into the crook of my shoulder, placing gentle, sweet kisses to my sweat-soaked skin.

“I love you,” Joey promises, hair tickling my chin when I turn my head.

“True blue.”

Joey grins at the phrase we used to say as kids. Unwavering loyalty. Forever.

“True blue,” Joey agrees before kissing me as he pulls out of me, pulling me against his body to hold me tight.

We wake up slowly the next morning. My body aches all over from the night prior, but the warm ocean water helps ease the ache. I tread water in the chest-deep turquoise water as Joey does flips in the waves; he’s a perpetual child when we get around water. The sun is warm on my shoulders, the water clear enough to see the fish swimming past me.

“I was thinking fish and tropical salsa tonight, along with coconut rice. Sound good?” Joey calls out, pushing the hair out of his eyes and looking all sorts of beautiful. “Lee?”

“Sounds perfect,” I answer to stop his worrying.

He looks at me seriously again, then swims over to kiss me softly. “All right?”

“My dad has liver failure.”

Joey blinks his dark brown eyes, wet curls falling across his forehead. He reaches out to caress my ear, making my toes tingle at the touch. He’s quiet for so long, I’m not sure what he’s going to say or do. He’s always hated my father; it’s a long-standing hatred at this point. I’m not sure if he or Beau hate my father more. Maybe Ms. Cindy, actually. But the beatings stopped once they realized what was going on and got involved, so I’ll always be thankful for them and how their home became my home after my grandma died. Family is what you make it.

“How does that make you feel?” Joey finally asks, eyes boring into mine.

“I don’t want to… have to do this, Joey. I don’t want to make these decisions. I don’t want to have to see him. I feel like a shitty fucking son, but I just don’t think it’s fair that I have to take care of my abusive father in his last months, pretending like everything is fucking forgiven. But does that make me a shitty son? To not do this?”

Joey caresses my face just as a gentle wave washes over us. “It doesn’t make you shitty, not in my mind. I don’t have any history to cite, no good advice. He’s tortured you a lot of your life, so I’ll support whatever decision you make.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“That’s okay too. It’s not my job to tell you what to feel or what to do. It’s my job to love you through it. And I never want you to doubt that I will have your back whatever decision you make. That’s my job, okay?”

I nod against his hand and sigh when he kisses me softly, healing a wound he didn’t even make. Joey gently pushes me until I’m floating on my back in the water, staring up at the cloudless deep blue sky. Joey holds my hand as the waves move me, something we used to do as teenagers. I feel like I’m floating in space, untethered from reality, where nothing matters and nothing hurts as long as Joey grips my hand tight.

When my face is warm with a slight sunburn and my skin is wrinkled from the water, we head inside to shower away the day. Joey cleans me off in the shower, all warm hands and smiles, then I fall to my knees to suck him off. His head tilts against the tiled wall, hands buried in my hair as I suck him off quickly. He comes down my throat with a quiet groan, then tugs me up to kiss the cum off my lips, tasting himself on my tongue. Joey reciprocates with a quick handjob, which is about all I can take after last night, and I feel hazy and tired from the sun and orgasm. We dress in gym shorts and old T-shirts, then wander into the kitchen for Joey to cook an early dinner.

Joey blends me up a virgin piña colada with a crooked grin. I sip it as he sautés fresh fish on the stove, then chops up mango, tomatoes, and peppers for a tropical salsa. He also cooks some coconut ginger rice. The kitchen smells heavenly, and I’m reminded how blessed I am to have a professional chef at my disposal, whenever I want.

“How’s the drink?” Joey asks, looking at me over his shoulder.