Page 88 of My Family

Again.

And again.

Until he looks a little better.

"Good," I murmur. "There you go."

"I'm going to lose tomorrow," he says, and he looks just like he did when he first came to Aspire, scared and small. "I'm going to walk out there and some guy twice my size is going to…"

I kiss him.

Not to shut him up, though it does that too. I kiss him because interrupting his self-loathing is the best thing I can do. My lips on his, soft at first, then deeper, my hand sliding from his wrists to the back of his neck, where the small tattoos mark his skin.

He makes a sound in his throat, soft and needy, and I let it in. I kiss him again, open-mouthed, tongue sliding slowly against his because I like the way it makes his whole body shiver. I can feel him start to melt, the panic in his chest dissolving.

"Bed," I say between kisses.

He stares at me, blinking fast, then crawls onto the white comforter, turning at the last second to see if I'm following.

I am.

I push him gently until he ends up sprawled there, vulnerable, waiting.

"Strip," I tell him.

My voice isn't gentle. I want to see him. All of him.

He hesitates only a second, then peels off his T-shirt, and his chest makes me want to devour him. He shimmies out of his sweatpants. I think he means to leave his briefs on, but I hook two fingers into the waistband and pull them down myself, slowly, making him lift his hips to help me.

I flip him onto his stomach.

I grab the small bottle of lube I'd packed from the nightstand and squeeze some into my palm. It's cold and makes him flinch, so I rub my hands together first, then start working over his shoulders, down his spine.

He makes a little sound, and I kneel beside him, using both hands now, kneading the knot between his shoulder blades.

"Fuck, this feels good," he says.

I smile.

I work lower, down to the dimples above his hips, then massage the tension out of his lower back and ass. He tenses at first, but I don't stop, just keep my touch slow until he relaxes beneath my hands.

I slide a finger between his cheeks, slick with lube, and he lifts his head, eyes wide.

"Hey!" he says, but then he giggles.

"Shh, it's okay," I say. "Tell me if you want to stop."

He shakes his head, face pressed into the pillow.

"Don't stop," he says, voice muffled.

So I don't.

I push in, just the tip at first, and he gasps, his whole body clenching. I wait until he relaxes, then move my finger slowly, gently, making him twitch, making his toes curl.

Then I add a second finger.

He grunts and moans, and I have to stop myself from coming right then.