Page 7 of Actions and Reactions (All It Takes #5)

Silas

After a foolish ten seconds where I actually debate taking this chance, I nod down at Vinny.

Denying that the relief I can so clearly see on Vinny’s face breaks my heart would be useless, and now I can’t seem to look away from his electric green eyes. Those are eyes I trust, despite everything, and I doubt that trust could ever die.

He grabs my right foot and I slap a hand against the tile to keep my balance when he lifts my leg and starts washing me.

It’s weird . . . at first at least.

I’m painfully aware of every inch of skin he touches, especially when his fingers brush carefully over the scars.

I never look at my scars—I can’t—so I focus on his face .

A focused crease I know well has formed between his eyebrows, and it looks so damn earnest and cute I can’t look away.

Even after he’s done with my right leg and switches to the other one, I still can’t help but stare at him, and as I do I finally confess—if only to myself—how right this feels.

Not him washing me, though it’s nice. I don’t want him to wash me every day or anything, but being this close to him...

Bared to him . . .

It’s like . . . the natural order of things.

Like the ground under me is finally balanced again.

I honestly don’t love knowing how big an effect he has on me, because this could all go away any second. We’ve blown our friendship up before, so what’s to stop us from doing it again?

What or who is going to stop me?

The problem with knowing someone since birth is that we know exactly where our limits are. We know what to say to hurt each other, just like I know every word I would have to say to make Vinny’s day better.

He moves on to lather up my ass and back, and though I jolt at that first touch, I don’t move again until he’s standing in front of me once more. My dick is hard again, but I don’t have the balls to do anything about it, not like Vinny had the courage to do back on the dock.

I’m grateful, though, that he has enough bravery for both of us.

“Thank you,” I mutter when he finally stands up again, and feeling beyond vulnerable I only meet his gaze for a fraction of a second. “I can’t really kneel,” I confess.

“That’s fine, Si. I didn’t do that so you’d owe me or anything like that,” he says. There’s a beat of silence where I can’t find the words to say anything to him, and his frustrated sigh as he reaches for the shower gel again finally gets me to act. I stop his hand mid-air.

“Let me.” It’s a plea, and he obviously understands it by the look of his small smile—which I ignore. I pump gel into my hands and walk around him to wash his back.

I try to focus only on getting the job done, but it’s impossible not to admire every bulging muscle of his back and shoulders, then his ass...

Fuck, it’s perfect. It looks almost fake for god’s sake.

And then when I go to his front and get a good feel of those pecs and his eight-pack... I might become hypnotized by those and the V-muscles that point straight to his dick, because when he touches my chest, I jump.

“Come here,” he murmurs and brings me in.

He’s always been taller than me, even when we were really little, so looking up at him isn’t new, but I’m surprised by how natural it feels to tilt my head way back and offer up my lips to him.

I don’t know if it shows how stupid I am, but spending half an hour kissing him under the spray of the jets feels so damn natural I seriously doubt my intelligence.

How couldn’t I see this back then?

Why did I miss it?

I force myself to give it a rest and enjoy every second of it. I let my eyes feast on his body when we dry off, and when he lies down on his bed and invites me in by patting the mattress.

And when—more hesitant than I’ve seen him since that night at the hospital—he whispers, “Just tell me to stop if you want me to,” I know I more than likely never will.

Want him to stop, that is.

Because he kisses me again before moving on to my jaw, my neck. He teases my nipples and bites down gently on my way-less-defined abs. He breathes in deeply when he gets to my groin, and again I question my intelligence when I’m surprised by the sweet wet suction on the tip of my cock.

Then again, my experience here is . . . limited.

Should I tell him that?

No, I decide, when he takes me to the back of his throat.

Now is not the time for conversation or any more confessions.

Right now is the time to feel.

His throat contracting around me, his fingers squeezing the tops of my thighs, the bedsheets under me, my toes curling from pleasure, my chest heaving... and finally I feel the filthy moan unfurl from deep in my chest as I spill into his mouth.

I lie there, panting and reeling.

My destructive thoughts want to come out again, but I hold them back and roll over to rest half my body on top of him, and I kiss him like a man starved. The new taste on his tongue drives home what just happened and gives me all the courage I need.

I do the exact same thing he did—kiss down his body and enjoy every touch he allows me—but when I get to his groin I can only stare for a moment.

His cock is, well... proportionate. Standing up hard and ready, it’s thick and just a little shorter than mine, but still intimidating.

“You don’t have to,” he whispers, his voice raspy. I don’t know if it’s that way because of the blow job or because he’s trying to shield his need.

I don’t want to stop. I do want to do this, but I know it’ll probably be a disappointment for him since I’ve never done it before.

Again I bite that confession back and just let myself feel.

I lick the head, and the normal taste of skin urges me on to take it into my mouth and suck experimentally.

“Fuck, Si,” he rasps, his voice deeper. I risk a glance up and find him biting down on his lower lip. His hands come up, but then they twitch and he brings them back down to his sides.

Understanding, I try sucking harder and reach for one of his hands, bringing it to the side of my head.

His gaze stays on me, and I can’t look away.

I feel like I go into a trance, where I suck and bounce my head but I’m not really consciously doing so.

I don’t take a lot of it into my mouth, and I don’t use my hands, I just bob up and down and enjoy the taste of him .

The taste of his precum isn’t anything spectacular, but knowing he’s liking this is all the encouragement I need.

“So good, Si.” His whisper sounds almost relieved. “You’re so fucking good at that, you’re gonna make me come. Is that what you want? You want my cum in your mouth?”

I never thought dirty talk would do it for me—I watch porn without the sound and enjoy it much more that way—but there’s something about Vinny’s voice and the fact that it’s him that has me doubling my efforts.

He tells me how hot my mouth is, how he wants to fuck it—I want that too but I doubt I’m ready for it. “I’m gonna come, Si,” he warns. “Are you going to take it all?” he asks, almost like a challenge.

Even if it wasn’t a challenge, of course I plan on taking it all.

I’m not missing this experience for anything in the world, so I try pulling in my cheeks with more force and gag a little when Vinny’s hips bow up.

I have to pull back instinctively, but it’s perfect because his cum lands straight onto my tongue and I can finally taste him.

I pull back slowly and swallow his load. It doesn’t taste the best, but getting to see Vinny spent and with a satisfied smile is more than worth it. Especially because I loved every other part of sucking him off.

“Come here,” he murmurs.

I kneel on my right knee and push myself up to lie next to him once more.

His kisses are slower this time, more delicate, and I’m pretty sure I fall asleep with our lips touching.

The light coming in through the window tells me it’s later than when I normally wake up, but considering the timezones, I think I actually woke up earlier than usual.

I have to wonder whether it’s because of the cold spot on the mattress next to me.

There are no signs of Vinny except for his duffel and how my clothes from yesterday are folded in a chair next to the closet.

I definitely didn’t do that last night, so if the fact that I woke up in Vinny’s room wasn’t enough, well then, at least I can be sure I didn’t have a hyper-realistic dream last night.

It really happened.

And now we probably have to deal with it...

That won’t be very fun—understatement of the century.

A ball of tension forms in my belly, and I don’t know if it’s embarrassment over how easy it was for Vinny to get me into his bed, the thought of anyone else in the cabin having heard us, or the realization that I have to get out of this room and go to my own.

I have no idea what’s going to happen when I leave this room, and though part of me wants to stay in this bed and never find out, I know I have to.

I stall for as long as I can, even brush my teeth with my finger in Vinny’s bathroom, but when the time comes, I press my ear to the door to see if I can hear anything from the kitchen .

I don’t, so I open it less than an inch and can see that the part of the hallway that leads to the kitchen is clear.

There’s no way of seeing the other half unless I peek out, though, so I take a deep breath and do just that.

No one there.

And so I walk as fast and as lightly as I can to the next door—my room.

I see someone put my bag there—I can only hope they did that yesterday while we were out and not today—and get to work on feeling more human.

Only twenty minutes later I’m showered and dressed in another T-shirt and my swimming trunks, and I find the kitchen empty of people.

I hurry to the coffee maker while intense relief fills me. It’s been years since I was a morning person, and having at least a bit of time to wake up will probably prepare me better for the day and all the conversations in it.

I enjoy the absolute silence that tells me no one’s in the house—and if they are, they’re asleep—and it gives me time to think things through.

I have no idea how to approach Vinny today... in front of our parents no less. I’m sure Dad will have a lecture ready for me, one Mom will probably repeat later, but I’m not worried about them.

What Vinny said yesterday was harsh but true, and I’m not going to apologize for resenting them just a little bit.

What I do know is that “acting normal” around our families is something I’m going to have to get used to again. I’m not even sure I remember how it used to be with all of us together.

Especially since Uncle Hulk and Aunt Lyla divorced four years ago, and so her new husband Michael and his son Eli have been added to the group. We’ve never hung out all together... and are they even here?

Were they in another room last night?

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

Lottie’s laughter-filled voice has me jumping in place.

“What?” I demand, and turn to see her in her bikini with a pair of shorts.

I think her hair is lighter too... could be the summer. She has Mom’s blonde hair while I have Dad’s pure black, but we both have Mom’s blue eyes, and hers are very much amused.

“You looked like you were thinking so hard steam was about to start coming out of your ears.”

“Yeah, okay,” I tell her and roll my eyes before taking the final drink of my first cup of coffee.

I start the machine again for my second one before walking over and hugging her for a long moment.

“You okay?” she asks softly. Her tone implies she expects me not to be, so I guess she heard about yesterday’s events.

“I’m okay,” I tell her, and after a deep breath with her still in my arms, I realize that’s not a complete lie.

“They told me what Vinny said last night.”

I step back and go to splash some milk into my coffee. How am I supposed to comment on that? She expects me to tell her what Vinny and I have been talking about, of course she does, but...

“And Lex told me you guys flew in together,” she adds.

Right, there’s no getting out of talking to her about this, and I think she’s probably the only person in the world I can be totally honest with, so why not take advantage?

She’s a great big sister, and our bond has become much deeper over the last few years where the five years between us has seemed less significant.

And I think she’s the only person who can truly understand what I lost when the accident happened.

“Yes, he chartered a jet and sent me the details to fly with him.” I turn and lean back on the counter, take one more fortifying sip, and then tell her the rest. “We both apologized, which was tough, and then we played Gin, and then we got here and our parents were trying to stage an intervention or who the fuck knows what, so Vinny exploded on them, and then we went to the neighbor’s dock.

..” Another big breath, another sip of coffee. .. “And then we... hooked up.”

“Shut up,” she shouts, her jaw basically on the floor.

“I know,” I mumble.

“No, seriously?” she demands and walks closer.

“I swear.”

“And then what happened?” she asks, leaning her hip against the counter too and crossing her arms.

“We came back here, and?—”

“But we didn’t see you,” she interrupts.

“We climbed into his bedroom through the window. ”

“Why?” Her face scrunches up in confusion.

“Because it was ... evident.” I leave it at that, and it takes her a few minutes but she gets it. And immediately grimaces.

“Ew.”

“Yeah, well, then?—”

“Did you talk?”

“No,” I snap, exasperated that she basically won’t let me finish a sentence, but then again, that’s older sisters for you ... “We hooked up some more,” I mumble and look away.

“Silas,” she sighs.

“Please don’t say anything, okay? I have no idea what any of this means.”

She scoffs and closes the space between us again to hug me tight.

“Of course I’m not going to say anything. I always have your back.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, and hug her back.

“Thank you for trusting me,” she says softly, and it dawns on me.

I didn’t only tell her I hooked up with Vinny, I just... came out of the closet?