“Yes. Yes… I…” Words die on my gorgeous man’s lips as I begin to fuck him with my fist. In and out, slowly at first, building momentum.

  The sloppy wet song is music to my ears, playing in tandem with his wails of unadulterated ecstasy. Finn lets go. Letting himself feel. Experience this. Me. Us. What I can give him and will continue to give him for as long as he’ll allow.

  Birds scatter from a nearby tree as Finn unleashes a long, high-pitched scream. I fuck him through it, making damn sure I beat his prostate, fill his guts. Using the swing to my advantage, I send him into a slow rocking, up and back. Fucking my fist, in and out. Pop, pop. Opening his rim more. Giving it air. Letting it breathe as it impales itself on my hand.

  Finn’s abs ripple, covered in cum, as his poor, angry, red dick stands at attention, and his balls tighten, ready to unload. I take him as far as he needs, as long as he needs. When I think he’s had enough, when I’ve buried more than my wrist inside him, Finn begs for more.

  “I need to feel you… everywhere,” he pleads.

  Bending to his will, I make him feel me everywhere.

  Inside I go, little by little, as I massage his balls, the base of his cock, then massage the mess of fresh precum into his stomach. Up to his nipples, I dance my fingertips and play with them too, twisting and rolling them until his thrashing intensifies. Words impart his lips in a jumble of pleas and desperation. Droplets of sweat pour down the side of his face, collecting in the blindfold and its elastic band.

  Yet, I persist.

  Opening him up.

  Watching him fall deeper into pleasured madness.

  Higher and higher.

  Until the trashing ceases and the moans fall quietly from his slack jaw. His arms loosen overhead to lie across his stomach. I cup a hand over his to ground him as he soars. Finn’s head lolls to the side, and his shoulders relax.

  Unspoken, deep, achy emotions grip me at the sight. How beautiful he looks. How serene. Letting him float, I remove my hand long enough to grip my throbbing cock and enter him. The void. The openness surrounds my cock. Leaving just the tip inside, I stroke myself until my toes curl, and I breed his gaping hole.

  Finn hums in pleasure as I grunt through my climax, feeding it to him.

  Cum bathes his rim. Drops fall out and splatter the deck.

  “Do you like when I come inside you, sweetheart?” My words are hoarse, barely above a whisper.

  “Yes,” is Finn’s simple, floaty reply.

  I smile at him even though he can’t see me. Then I reenter his body with my fist once more. He stiffens for a moment before settling. A low, satisfied moan reverberates through the air.

  Wanting him to get off a second time because that’s what Finn needs, my fist fucking is slow, drawing out his pleasure. When he’s there, on the precipice, I feel it vibrate through him—nothing more than a low hum. No moans, whines, or pleas. It’s in his breathing. The elongating of his neck. The slight part of his lips as he gasps a silent breath.

  When he comes, it’s magnificent.

  Cum lazily shoots from his glans—in small bursts, rolling down the side of his shaft just as the next surges. His thighs tighten as his rim hugs around my wrist. Covering his body with my own the best I can, I help him through it. Finn’s orgasm flows on and on—an endless stream of cum and twitches. Those lean, muscular arms wrap around me, hugging me tightly as he crests and falls—I’m the anchor to his storm.

  “Beck.” He trembles.

  “I have you, sweetheart.”

  Finn sniffles.

  I nuzzle my nose to the side of his and brush my lips across the delectable ones I wish to taste. Finn parts beautifully, letting me inside. Our tongues tangle in a slow, warm dance of us.

  Groaning into his mouth, into the kiss, I remove my fist from Finn’s ass. He groans at the loss and clings to me. Reaching over, still kissing him, I unhook each of Finn’s legs from the stirrups. They squeeze around my waist, ankles lock above my ass. Next, I remove his blindfold and toss it onto the deck. Finn’s fingers sift into my hair, holding my mouth to his as we meld as one. His still-hard cock a throbbing brand against my stomach. Mine slips into his opening.

  A connection of souls weaves between us, unlike anything I’ve experienced before. Finn seems to notice it, too, when he grips my ass, fingertips embed into the meat.

  He’s the first to pull away on a gasp.

  Our eyes meet.

  His rimmed in red.

  “I think I love you,” he whispers.

  My heart thumps wildly at his words, at the sincerity and the beauty. I sweep my lips across his swollen ones and meet his gaze once more. “I think I love you, too, sweetheart.”

  Finn’s face crumbles as he begins to cry, and I cling to him to communicate without words it’s okay. This is okay. He’s not too weird. This isn’t too fast. We’re experiencing this new adventure together. Head-on. No lies. No secrets. Only honesty.

  It’s scary as fuck.

  But I’m here for it.

  As the crying fades to sniffles, I kiss Finn slow and lazy—like I have all the time in the world. When we’re done, I help him from the swing, and we walk into the house together, hand in hand. He steals shy glances my way as if he doesn’t know if I’m a figment of his imagination or real. Not wanting him to tumble, considering what we just did, I release his hand in favor of holding him around the waist. We enter the bathroom together. Shower together. Never speaking. Only touching. Kissing. Washing each other’s privates. When I get on my knees to check on his hole, it’s on its way to closing. It'll be awhile before it’s back to normal, and that’s okay.

  Spreading his cheeks, I lave my tongue across the swollen rim. Finn stiffens, and a moan breaks free, but he doesn’t ask me to stop. So, I don’t. I kiss it again, giving it the attention it deserves. Never in my life did I consider myself a real ass man. Fucking a man with a nice ass, sure. Obsessed with an ass, never. Until Finn. Until his needs called to mine—coaxing a secret spot in me to awaken.

  I worship his hole.

  And when he comes, squeezing around my tongue, I consider it a job well done.

  As I rise from the shower floor, Finn’s on me, arms around my neck, his tongue down my throat in a heat of passion I don’t expect but welcome just the same.

  The rest of our day is spent together.

  Me loving his body.

  Him allowing it.

  Our dinner is quiet as we indulge in the fresh bread and roasted chicken Finn prepares.

  On the couch, we read. Me, his book. Him, one he selected from his shelf. My back props in one corner, him in the other. The same corners we sat in the first day we met. Our legs intertwine between us. A single blanket’s strewn across our tangle of limbs.

  The stars and moon shine high in the sky by the time we look up from our pages and into each other’s eyes.

  “This is the best day of my life,” Finn whispers.

  “It has been amazing.”

  “Thank you for… helping me. Then loving me and accepting me for who I am.”

  Not sure what to say without sounding cheesy, I don a bright smile and nod.

  I will be here, accepting him and loving him, as long as he’ll let me…

  And he’ll do the same in return.

  Because Finn’s love manifests in different ways, and I’m just beginning to discover what those are.

  And thus, our real adventure begins.

  EPILOGUE

  Leg bouncing, Finn chews his thumbnail, sitting on my living room couch. His eyes dart from one area to the next, taking in all his surroundings. It’s been three months since we made our relationship official. Three months of weekend visits to his cabin, plus a few here or there during the week when I couldn’t stay away for more than a day or two.

  We’ve spent those three months getting to know one another on a deeper level, and I don’t mean in the biblical sense. In the romantic, partner, entanglement, long-term way. Walls Finn didn’t even know he had, have started to come down.

  We started our assent into the real world, off the top of his mountain, slowly.

  A drive down the mountain in my Jeep.

  A middle-of-nowhere gas station trip for snacks. Followed by a hot-and-heavy make-out session in the backseat, ya know, as a reward.

  A drive-thru for burgers and fries.

  A picnic in a vacant park.

  Last weekend, we shopped in an actual store for groceries. It was a big step for him, and I couldn’t have been prouder. I showed him as much when we got home and ravished him for hours.

  Knowing my proximity usually helps when Finn’s out of his element, I lower onto the cushion beside him. But I don’t dare touch him. That’s his move. He must take the extra step to connect us. A breath is all it takes for him to lean into me, his head on my shoulder, a shaky hand on my knee. I lace my fingers through his and give him all the time in the world he needs to acclimate. He wanted to visit my apartment this weekend. It was his idea, not mine. I haven’t pushed. Not more than I thought he could take. Baby steps. This goes beyond that. Then again, maybe it’s not as difficult for him as I anticipated since I’ve shown him my apartment during our frequent FaceTime conversations. The drawers, to leave his clothes whenever he was ready to visit. The space in the closet with empty hangers. His new, never-touched pillow on his side of our bed. The soap I bought that matched his from the cabin. Everything I could think of to make him feel right at home, including pictures of us on the wall, the end table, and the nightstand beside the bed. It not only made me miss him less when we have spent more time apart than together, but it also gave me something to do.

  Finn sighs. “I love the way this place smells.”

  My heart swells with pride. “What does it smell like, sweetheart?”

  “You.”

  Fuck.

  A lump forms in my throat at the raw honesty in his voice. I kiss the top of his hair, unsure how to respond, so I don’t. I twist just enough to hook Finn’s chin with my finger and bring his eyes up to meet mine. They widen as his lips part as if he knows exactly what I’m gonna do. And he’d be right. I take that mouth and kiss him, deep and endless, until he’s shaking with need. Only then do I push him back into the couch, kneel between his legs on the floor, and tear his pants down his legs—pants neither of us want him in. I fling them to the side, along with his socks and shoes.

  A perfect, weeping cock stands at attention as Finn pants for air.

  Knowing what I want, I engulf his rod, swallowing it whole.

  “Beck!” Finn scrambles to grab something to keep him grounded, anything. He grips fistfuls of my hair. I growl around his prick, and he shudders.

  Even though he can’t come from this alone, it doesn’t stop me from tasting him, sucking his hardness down, loving the stretch of my lips around his cock as it throbs in time with his manic heartbeat. It’s a miracle I kept my hands off him long enough to drive here today. Consider this my reward. Not that I need one. That’s not what this is about.

  I need to take his mind off the discomfort.

  I need him to settle into our city home.

  Massaging his balls, I suck him up and down, slowly, torturously.

  Finn yanks my hair. “Beck.”

  Lips around the crown of his member, I look up at him.

  “Can… can I suck you?” he asks.

  My surprise must flash across my face when he smiles in that shy, adorable way that’s all Finn. He grabs the base of his cock and pulls himself from my mouth to trace the slit across the bow of my lips. I lick the underside of his cockhead, giving him full access to whatever he wants to do with that thing.

  “I’ve been thinking about it. I want to try,” he explains.

  “You really wanna suck my cock?”

  A small nod, staring straight into my eyes and beyond. The air crackles around us as I help him from the couch and escort him into our bedroom. He doesn’t bother checking his surroundings when he follows me to the bed, where I undress and he removes his shirt. In the center of our mattress, I lie on my back and spread my legs for him to settle between.

  Finn climbs on and does just that.

  Having touched me many times before, Finn’s warm, sure fingers wrap around my steel. He gives it a few lazy pumps, watching the head disappear and reappear through my foreskin before he pulls the skin taut, exposing the swollen head. It leaks precum, and he leans over to lick it up. A simple swipe of his tongue has my hands fisting the sheets and my teeth gritting in pleasure.

  “Sweetheart,” I grate, going out of my mind.

  Finn savors the flavor, eyes closed, moaning as if it’s the finest goddamn wine. I’ve never seen someone so fucking beautiful in all my life.

  It takes everything in me not to grab him by the hair and gently face fuck him. Watch his lips split around my cock. What a sight that would be.

  Again, Finn leans forward, and this time he hollows out his cheeks and invites me in. The wet warmth has my thighs tightening. My asshole clenches. What does my man do? He explores with that naughty tongue. Around and around, he teases my tip, sucks it, hums around it, and strokes the shaft. I writhe in pleasure, trying damn hard not to move, to spook him.

  Finn’s eyes slide shut on a guttural moan as he gets into the feel, the power. This is why I don’t normally like blow jobs, to be at the mercy of someone else, to trust them with your most precious organ, to give them free rein. With Finn, I want it. I want him to experience the power, the pleasure, the feel of another cock—a first for him. He does it beautifully. Sucking both gently, then firm. Not wanting to neglect my balls, he massages them as I do his.

  “You’re doing so well, baby,” I praise through clenched teeth, my jaw aching. Blowing out a harsh breath, I slam my eyes shut and will my dick to last a little longer. Not to release just yet. My neck elongates as he hums around my shaft, sending sparks of pleasure into my balls and down through my prostate. That serpentine tongue ruins me as it licks from the base of my cock to the tip, where he suckles me like a goddamn lollipop.

  “Finn. Fuck.”

  Overcome with lust, he moans.

  “Do you wanna fuck me?” I blurt out of nowhere, more than happy to take him to the hilt. Even if I don’t prefer to bottom, I’ll give him that.

  My handsome man blinks up at me in surprise, lips stalling around my tip.

  “You can fuck me,” I offer again.

  Pink rising to his cheeks, Finn’s head shakes.

  “You’re sure?”

  A simple nod is all he offers as he pops his mouth free to speak. “I don’t want that. But I do want you to fuck me.”

  “You always want that,” I note on a chuckle.

  “I know.” The blush creeps down his face to the top of his chest.

  “Which is why I wanted to offer. You can fuck me anytime you want. All you have to do is ask.”

  “Unless you need that, then I don’t think I need it. I just need… this. I love this. Right here.” Tracing his tongue around my cock slit, Finn resumes his sucking. Before long, I can’t take the teasing anymore. I grab him by the hair and pull him up my body. Taking silent instructions like a pro, Finn straddles my hips and lowers his hole onto my spit-soaked rod.

  Swollen lips and hooded lids stare down at me as large hands press into my pecs to fuck me the only way he knows how. Using me as he sees fit. Taking me hard.

  It doesn’t take long for cum to fly from Finn’s member, painting my stomach. I’m right there with him a moment later, filling him up.

  Finn collapses on top of me, my cock still buried in his ass. His still throbs between us. I stroke a hand down his sweaty back and kiss the side of his head. “Your lips are magic.”

  He snorts. “I’m gonna suck your cock every day.”

  “Then do it. I wasn’t sure if you’d even like it.” Trailing fingers lower, I slip between Finn’s cheeks and slip three into his supple hole.

  Sucking on my shoulder, Finn groans long and sensually. His shaft bucks against my belly as I finger his ass just how he likes. “I-I…” He clears his throat. “Don’t think there’s anything with you I wouldn’t like.”

  Same.

  Though, I don’t tell him that.

  Just as I haven’t told Finn, I quit my job as a helper. He hasn’t asked if I was gonna quit. Like he didn’t want to take something so important away from me if I needed it—to help others. As much as I love it, I love him more. The thought of touching another man when I would hate if he did seems hypocritical. So, I’ve found a replacement to take over my clients—a friend of Walter’s.

  Doing what I do best, I take care of mine and give Finn a second orgasm before we finally crawl out of bed, wash in our shower, and redress just in time to have dinner at the restaurant I booked for the evening—with the request of a private table, to keep his anxiety down to a minimum.

  Hand in hand, I escort my man down the steps of my apartment and down the street. He soaks up everything as we stroll—the dogs, the humans, the cars, the smells, and the sounds. I wonder how long it’s been since he’s set foot in a city this large. Perhaps never.

  When a group of people approach, I pull Finn in front of me, wrap my arms around his middle, and keep us moving. He looks amazing tonight—blond hair tied up in a messy man bun, jeans, and a tight blue t-shirt. Simple yet sexy. Then again, anything he wears or doesn’t wear is mouthwatering.

  Stopping halfway to the restaurant, I pull Finn to the side into a discrete alley. His back rests against the brick wall as I assess him from head to toe. “How are you doing?”

  “Better when you’re touching me.”

  Stepping forward, I drag my palm down the center of his chest to his package, where I squeeze it over the front of his jeans. “This kind of touching?”

  Finn’s head tilts back, resting against the wall, and his eyes slide closed. “Always that kind of touching.”

  “Does it help with the anxiety?”

  “Yes.”

  Fitting my front to his, I suck a welt into the side of Finn’s delicious neck as I stroke him firmly over the front of his jeans. A stain forms through the denim, and I keep going until he’s left gasping, pawing at my shoulders.