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This is so much more than sex—it’s savoring, loving, sweet. I haven’t had a lot of sweet interactions with sexual partners, but this is like coming home. My insecurities try to tell me that I’m not worthy of his attention, of his care, of his love, but the way he loves me proves to me that Paul thinks I am. That’s what matters.
Paul doesn’t leave even a centimeter of my skin untouched. My body is worshipped, slowly, purposefully, while he whispers words against my flesh. I’m not hard or buzzing with lust; I’m relaxed and sated. Would I like an orgasm? Of course, but that’s not what this is about. This is about comfort, both his and mine after the shitshow that was the last few days.
Paul makes his way back up my body, kissing and nipping until he’s at my neck.
“You know, I wasn’t so sure about this tattoo,” he says as he traces it with his tongue, “but it does something to that Neanderthal part of my brain that wants to claim you.”
I smile against my arms. “I am yours. Even before this started, I was yours. I just didn’t know it yet.”
“Mmmm,” he growls with my skin in his teeth, sending a shiver through me. “You were mine then, but I didn’t feel like I could touch you. Not like I wanted to. You weren’t exclusively mine. Now, if someone tries to make me share or tries to take you, I’ll hurt them.”
My heart flutters at his words, at the seriousness of them. I think I love that possessiveness. And I may just have to rile him up on purpose sometimes, just so he’ll fuck me extra hard. My dick twitches at the thought.
“I love you, Brendon, until my heart stops beating.”
“Then I’ll make sure it never does.”
38
Paul
Winter finals are over, and hockey is over for us, so Brendon and I pack some shit into my car, grab Seymour, and head for Michigan. I don’t know if my grandparents have seen the social media posts or news articles talking about our marriage, but Grandma hasn’t said anything about it. A part of me was hoping Dad would call. Even if it was just to tell me that I’m an idiot, something is better than nothing, right? It shows that he pays attention, that he cares. I’m trying not to dwell on it, but it stings.
I’m healed up, and Brendon’s nose is on the mend. We’re both back to working out, though we have to go slower to make sure we don’t push too far and set ourselves back. Once the doctor gave the go-ahead, Brendon and I have been fucking like bunnies. We don’t go more than twelve hours without an orgasm . . . or two. My recoup period is like five minutes. We take advantage.
The drive is long, seventeen or eighteen hours depending on traffic, construction, and weather. It’s a long fucking day of sitting in the car, but with Brendon’s nonstop brain, it’s entertaining most of the time. He sings lyrics, acts out scenes from movies or TV shows, tells stories with ten tangent stories. I love listening to the way his brain works.
By the time we pull into my grandparents’ driveway, my ass is numb, my back hurts, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to need someone to lift me out of this car because all my joints have solidified.
“Baby.” I run a hand down Brendon’s arm to wake him. He fell asleep about two hours ago, which means he probably won’t sleep tonight unless I wear him out. “We’re here.”
I shake his leg, and he mumbles something I don’t catch, so I run my hand up the inside of his thigh, under his basketball shorts, and tease the crease of his groin. He groans this time, shifting his hips.
“Pauly,” he moans, shifting so he’s leaning against me. “Don’t tease me.”
I kiss his cheek and smirk at him. “But teasing you issofun for me.”
When I start to pull my hand out, he grabs my wrist through the fabric and stares at me with heat in his eyes.
“Please.”
“In my grandparents’ driveway?” I scratch at the tender flesh, and he hisses, but it’s not from pain.
“I can’t get out of the car like this!”
He lets go of my hand, and I sit back in my seat and take in the red cheeks and messy hair.
“I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.”
He groans again, pushing his palm against the ridge in his shorts.
I can’t help but chuckle as I get out and groan myself, but this one isn’t from lust; it’s from the ache in every muscle in my body finally moving. Grandma comes out the door with a smile on her face, making a beeline for me while Brendon gets the leash on our beast.
It’s cold as fuck when I get out of the car but it’s March so that’s not surprising.
“There’s my boy!” She wraps her arms around me, and I have to bend over to meet her height, but I hug her back just as tightly. She will always be home. Even before my mother died, she was my safe place. Mom was amazing and I miss her all the time, but there’s nothing like a grandma’s love.
“Hey, Grandma.” I breathe in the perfume she’s worn my entire life, some kind of soft floral with rose mixed with Downy fabric softener. Age has made her softer, which makes me a little sad. I know some day I’ll have to say goodbye to her, and that day will crush me, but I know I will survive with Brendon by my side.
