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“I don’t want to talk,” I warned.
He nodded. I nodded. Devon closed the door, undressed, and climbed into the tiny ass bed with me. The bed where everything started. He hesitated for a few seconds, but as soon as he put an arm over my chest and rested his cheek against my shoulder, all my resolve broke.
Devon brought me life when I’d had none in so many days. I turned to face him and he pulled me in, our mouths meeting in frantic need. I kissed him for the first time in days, and it dawned on me then that he tasted like home. Like love.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he whispered against my lips. “I’m sorry. I love you.”
“Shut up,” I groaned, weaving my fingers into his hair and pulling him against me.
Devon’s legs entwined with mine, and our bodies thrashed together in an attempt to get as close as we could. His mouth never left mine unless it was to kiss my neck, my cheek, my jaw. It was probably the wrong time to be all over each other, but we got caught up in a PG-13 make-out session that felt like the hottest thing we’d ever done.
It wasn’t fuelled by sex, though. It was the closeness I craved. Togetherness and union, comfort from the man who hurt me because he loved me so much he wanted to provide for me. I missed him and understood him, but I needed him to miss me and understand me back. Even though I was mad at him, I needed to be invested in him. I needed to invest myself in him because Devon was my future, no matter how many times we fucked it up.
“Don’t leave me, Madd,” he breathed.
“I told you to shut up,” I snapped at him, still pulling him against me.
I pushed on his chest and climbed on top of him, settling myself between his legs. Our bodies rocked together, fuelling one another, giving and taking everything we had, and communicating without the right words but all the right actions.
Devon’s hands travelled down my body, caressing my shoulders, my sides, and my hips until he grabbed my ass and pulled my groin against his. His touch brought vibrancy back to my dull existence, and when he moaned low in his throat, that vibrancy turned feral. I captured that sound by crushing my mouth to his.
“Fuck, Devon,” I rasped, needing all of him at once.
“Shut up,” he mocked me. “We shouldn’t fuck right now.” He pulled me closer.
“I know.” I kissed him everywhere I could.
“We need to talk first,” he declared, grinding his hips against mine.
“Yeah.” I thrust my hard cock against his.
He let out a slow breath and whispered, “Please.”
I’d never been good at impulse control. Plus, I needed him. It wasn’t about the sex. Yeah, I wanted to fuck him, but this time, it was an attempt at amends in the only way we knew how to achieve it at the moment. Our love language had never been healthy anyway, so what was the harm?
I sat back on my heels and tugged his boxers down, his cock springing free right before my eyes. He reached for my boxers, but there was nothing he could do in this position. So I stood up, took them off, and grabbed a bottle of lube that was still in the dresser drawer.
I got conflicted about my own emotions. I wanted to be rough with him because I was mad at him, but I wanted to worship him because he was the only thing in my life I’d ever believed in. I knelt between his legs, tempted by the sight of him, and dropped the bottle on the bed. Instead, I pushed his knees to his chest and spread his legs wide so I could lick his perfect ass.
“Mmm, fuck,” Devon panted when I rimmed his hole. His hands ended up in my hair, but they didn’t try to control me. It was an act of trust, something to show me he wanted whatever I gave freely.
I got him worked up with my tongue, then added a finger inside him, easing him open to take a hard fuck. So much possessive, filthy shit went through my mind, but my mouth didn’t say any of it. I wasn’t in a talkative mood, so instead of telling him how much I loved his ass, I showed him with actions until his legs shivered and his breathing turned shallow.
“Maddox,” he moaned my name in a desperate whine.
Chills of want spread over my skin and intensified in my gut. I added another finger, alternating between finger fucking him and tongue fucking him. I was as desperate for this as he was, so bluntly, I asked, “Are you fucking ready?” Impatience.
“Mmm, yes.”
“You sure?” I shoved my tongue in his ass with my fingers.
“Oh god,” he groaned. “Holy shit, just fuck me,” he demanded.
I grabbed the lube and slathered my dick. I tugged on his thighs and brought him closer, and with all the intention to slam into him, I didn’t. I eased inside him, slow and steady, making sure we both felt everything. Devon’s face slackened in pleasure, and when his eyes fluttered, I swallowed my anger and reminded myself that I loved this prick no matter what. My mood changed right then and there, no longer wanting to be hard and fast with frustration, but slow and sentimental because I missed him. I missed this. I wanted to make goddamn love to him or some shit.
Jesus.
Devon noticed, or maybe we were on the same page, because he pulled on my arms and brought me down until our bodies were flush. We moved together, his ass meeting my thrusts, a new tempo added to the music we typically made. It wasn’t the chorus, but it was a bridge, something different to give pause and enjoy the melody. His hands snaked around the back of my neck, pulling my mouth to his. Our lips never parted and our bodies never separated as we ground together in my tiny ass bed, and shit, it was kind of perfect.
