Page 14 of Boyfriend on Parole: The Care of Broken Things Extended Epilogue

He couldn’t breathe through the want of it, the desire such an urgent thing he couldn’t even wonder where the anxiety had gone. There was simply no space for it. Already he was hard again, his cock so swollen with blood it left the rest of him dizzy.

“Shut up, both of you,” Eli snarled. “I can barely see the road.”

“Pull over,” Nathaniel said.

“There’s no space for it. Not even a proper shoulder.”

“Pull over,” Nathaniel said again.

Eli pulled over, pulling up onto the grassy bank on the side of the road.

“Two minutes,” Eli said. “We can’t stay longer than that. No, don’t pull off your—”

But it was too late. Nathaniel was already out of his pants and climbing atop him, the click of the seatbelt the start signal Samuel’s body had been waiting for. He surged up, all but inhaling Nathaniel into his lungs as he squashed him close, a desperate pressure, hands taking great handfuls of his ass, his thighs, his brain breaking over the feeling of bare skin even before that lovely cock pushed up against his stomach, leaving a wet smear as it went, the feeling so perfect he was forced to judder to a stop as he took it in. Nathaniel, though, never stopped, throwing his shirt down without a care and taking hold of Samuel’s too, tugging at it until he lifted his arms and then that was tossed down as well—and skin, all that skin, the feeling of it, of Nathaniel’s chest to his, the tight buds of pale nipples dragging across his, and that cock—that cock. He took hold of it before he thought to make his hand move, and fell for the man all over again, loving it, wanting only to drag it up to his mouth and not quite able to reach. He could have hauled Nathaniel up by his hips, sure he was strong enough, but Nathaniel wouldn’t let him, busy at his work, moving already, practically ignoring him as he took a stiff hold on his erection, planting it there to make it stable—and then, the warning only a bare, ‘keep still,’ and Samuel’s cock was sinking, being swallowed, Nathaniel’s walls closing up around him.

He couldn’t name it, the feeling of that heat sealing down over him. It was tight, unbearably so, and for Nathaniel too. He could see it, the almost pain of it, certainly an overwhelming discomfort.

“Goddamn it, Than!” Eli had unbuckled himself and was reaching behind. “Just shoving it in, you’re going to—”

Nathaniel jerked away from the hand, the motion accidentally wrenching at the cock inside of him. “Fine,” he gasped out. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. Samuel—”

“Just how long have I been taking your cock, Thompson? He’s not bigger than you. Don’t.”

Eli was half frozen, wanting to pull his husband free, but also afraid to make it worse. He hovered there, but even as he did, Nathaniel took in a gulping breath and said, calmer. “I can relax. I’m not tearing. I’m not bleeding.”

“Bleeding?” It was impossible to focus, Nathaniel still sinking, that heat closing, but that word did cut through. He remembered the flash of that old pain, that terrible fissure of lightning as he was split open. “No. Nat—Nat!”

He tried to arrest the movement, taking hold of Nathaniel, holding up his weight by the armpits so that he wouldn’t continue to sink. But Nathaniel laughed—laughed!—even if it was a little breathless. “I said not bleeding. Not bleeding at all. Here, just a second.”

Nathaniel took hold of his shoulder, bracing himself as he shut his eyes. He took a breath, another, and opened. It was a thing of deliberation. A thing of practice. The difference wasn’t overtly obvious, but it was there, that asphyxiation-like tightness easing a little as the man forced himself to relax.

Again, the sinking resumed, and he realized in his distraction that he had allowed his support to wane. He stiffened his arms again and tried to stop it, but Nathaniel squeezed his shoulder, letting his face fall against his. “It’s alright now. Kiss me.”

He didn’t mean to comply, but Nathaniel’s mouth was right there and the kiss so soft. It still had some of that urgency in it, the thrumming electricity coursing just beneath the surface, contained, not subsumed, but Nathaniel was controlling it, still forcing that relaxation and pushing it into him too. He tasted him, that mouth making him pant with it, and another sound, softer but still audible in that small space, escaped him.

Nathaniel took him, that slow progression, until he was seated properly, all the way to the base, engulfed. “There,” the man said into his mouth. “How is that?”

He hardly knew what to answer. There was a terrible feeling in him. The urgency rising despite his best efforts to force it down, that animal inside him shouting move! “I’m inside. Inside you.”

It was the stupid thing—the obvious thing. There was no reason to say it except that it was all he could think, all he could bear. Inside. Not in prison. Not locked away or restrained or drowning in the fear, but inside Nathaniel.

“Yes,” Nathaniel said, the answer a kiss, the taste so sweet, the softness so sweet, his heart sloshing in the unbearable sweetness of it. “Inside. Exactly where I wanted you.”

He heard Eli’s exhale, slow and exasperated. “Reckless. So reckless. We should be doing this at home.”

“You do this at home,” Nathaniel said, tilting his face a little to form the seal again, and kissed into Samuel.

He wished he could say he chose right. He wished he could say he proved himself. But he was too young and too innocent to pleasure to resist it properly, and he lost himself, giving over as Nathaniel took his hands to place them where he wished, following helplessly with each murmured instruction as the man guided him, telling him, “Yes, like that. Take me just like that. So full of you. I love it deep like that. Like you’re coming up into my stomach. I love it, so don’t stop. Push into me, Sammy. Yes, push up deep. Don’t be scared. I won’t let you hurt me. I won’t, so—oh, Sam. Just like that. Just like that, yes, baby. I I love it there. Love it in me, oh god, just push up into me. Fuck me. Sammy, fuck me. Fuck me.”

And he did fuck him. First up into him, as he said, each push a slow slide into that deeper heat that only made that awful creature in him shout louder and louder to Hurry! For fuck’s sake, hurry! Every slow movement another denial of that inner creature, but also capitulation, unable to stop or even to pause. But it was creeping in, no, faster than creeping, and relentless, always, always, it was cranking up, and only propelled onward with Nathaniel’s encouragement of, “Yes, like that, more like that. I can take more. Fuck, Samuel, give me more.” So maybe he had to do it, like there was no choice, Nathaniel giving him no choice, or maybe he simply wanted no choice but to have him and have him, pushing up not enough, maybe, because when he pushed him, they fell back to the seat, and he remembered about how much better that was, how good it was to be horizontal where he could press down properly, his weight helping him to squash down on Nathaniel. Pressing, always pressing, few clothes to impede them, and none on Nathaniel at all and oh, all that skin, the paleness of him, as light as Eli was dark, so light he could see the whole network of veins in his chest, the chords in the man’s neck straining as he pushed into him again and again to take him, oh god just to take him, to fuck him to death.

That kind of wording would have frightened him if he’d heard it, but he was hardly hearing anything anymore, the roaring in his ears too loud, his head swimming with too little air, needing to breathe better, but unable to pull away from that mouth. More and more, without caution now as he sprinted toward the end, his hips snapping into him, his hand smacking into the opposite door, the only precaution he took to protect his partner’s head, and then it didn’t matter, that whiting out again, too far and too late to stop. He didn’t know what he said or how he said it, only that he had done it, unable to feel the boundaries any longer and knowing he must have melded and solidified, no longer only himself, but a part of his partner. Not Samuel, but Nathaniel now, and how much better that was. To be Nathaniel, and for always.

He wasn’t quite aware, still dazed as Nathaniel turned his face for him in time to take it, but as Eli finished, hovering there between the break in the seats, he took the spray of it over his face, his mouth half open, and then wider as he realized, midway through, what was happening, his heart slamming, waking up again to take it, wanting to take it, but mostly too late, he tried to reach, to close his mouth over the end of it, but too late. With a groan, Eli took hold of his chin, but not to guide him to that place, only to hold him, to touch him, and then to lean in to kiss him, heedless of the mess. He caught at the man’s shirt, thinking to pull him in, to just haul him over the hump between the seats to join them, but Eli’s other hand was planted on the headrest, and he didn’t go, laughing, a little, into his mouth. “Aren’t I criminal enough already?”

No, he wasn’t, especially if it meant he wouldn’t join them. Samuel couldn’t think of a single reason why he might not have him. Not even as Eli tossed his pants back at his husband and said, “before your parole officer catches wind of your escapades.”