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Damn. His words elate me, make the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I want to smile so wide my jaw breaks. I want to hold him tighter. I want to pin him to this mattress and fuck him into the next millennium. Only, in this moment, those would be selfish. William doesn’t look as elated as I feel, and I know it’s because we’re just the same yet so entirely different. He’s committed a version of himself to other people, people he loves, who love him. I’m free in all this but, for William, being with me, being himself, has consequences.
Most of all… “And that scares you, doesn’t it.”
He tries to smile, but it’s lost in the weight of his frown. “I’ve been so unfair to her,” he says, his gaze drifting to the pillow.
I almost tell him it wasn’t intentional, that he shouldn’t blame himself, and while I do believe that, William chose to marry, to stay married. “Can I ask you something personal?”
His eyes move to meet mine, narrowing in curiosity. “Your cock is rubbing against my hip, Laurence. I think we’re already in the personal stage.”
“Aye.” I snort a chuckle, which quickly leaves me. “Why did you marry her? I know you said before that you felt like you owed her in some way.”
“I did love her. Do love her,” he interrupts, and I’m not sure which of us he’s trying to justify it to the most.
I nod. “But was there never a point where you knew what was happening? Knew why your eyes were closed?”
A heavy sigh blows through his nose, making his upper body sag. “Of course there was. But honestly…for a long time it wasn’t that difficult to ignore.”
How? Is all I can think.
As if he can read my thoughts, or perhaps my face, he continues, “You have to understand, I’d never known any kind of stability. Certainly never felt anything close to happiness. With Becca, I had all of that. So what if sex wasn’t like it was in movies, or in porn, or in Becca’s magazines. That’s entertainment, not life. I forced myself to believe that. Becca never complained, I had nothing to compare it to, and so I assumed everything must be going all right in that department. I couldn’t risk throwing away all the good we had together over an act I had to perform a handful of times a month.”
He makes it sound so clinical, and all I can think is how lonely that must have been. For both of them.
William sighs again, only it’s different this time. Content. His hand appears on my neck, fingers grazing my jaw. “I had no idea,” he says, all but a whisper, “That it’s all real. The way it’s portrayed in the films, the books. The way you imagine it to be when you’re fourteen and can’t stop wanking…” he trails off, chuckles, slides his fingers along my neck. "I want to fuck you, Laurence. I'm ready."
Dear, God.
I've been ready since the fucking trailer...
Chapter Fifteen
Laurence
No. This can’t be happening. Fuck. “I don’t have condoms.” The words burn my throat like sandpaper. I hadn’t wanted to be presumptuous when packing for the trip, risk scaring him.
“Oh.” William sucks his top lip between his teeth. “Well, I’ve only ever been with Becca…”
Shit. It feels like I may as well punch him in the face as I say, “I haven’t exactly been as…committed as you.”
“You don’t need to look so guilty, Laurence. I never pegged you for a priest.”
I laugh at that. “I’ve always been careful. If you trust me, we could still…” I let the sentence linger, study his reaction. “But I completely understand if—”
His lips silence me, crashing into mine with an eagerness I haven’t felt from him before. His grip on my face is firm. His lips are hard. His tongue fast. Soon, he starts feeling his way down my body, his flattened hand smoothing over my chest, my stomach…and then he grips my cock.
“Fuck,” I moan into his mouth, as he massages my shaft. He’s so confident with it now, flexing his wrist in a quick and rhythmical motion. “J-jacket. I need my jacket,” I choke out, struggling for air.
Puzzled, William pauses, hovering above me. “Your jacket?”
“There’s lube in my wallet. Sachets.”
“Oh…” I notice his cheeks colour and his breath hitch, but he quickly dives to the end of the bed and retrieves my jacket from the back of the dressing chair. He doesn’t question why I have it, and I don’t see the point in bringing up my previous liaisons with Silvio. Not right now, at least.
“The inside pocket,” I direct him.
He returns with my wallet, and I pluck out a sachet of lube, tearing the corner with my teeth. William lies next to me, propped up on his arm, as if awaiting direction. I start by kissing him gently, slowly, tracing his lips with my tongue, and then I take his hand. He watches intently as I drip lube over the tip of his fingers before bringing them between my legs, guiding him.
