Page 29 of Code Word (The Atrous #3)

Open mouths, the soft push and pull of lips, and my hand on his cheek, but no rush, no blazing desire for anything more.

Just languid kissing, slow and full of emotion. This was where the real passion was. The real tenderness, the real me.

Kissing him was different from anyone I’d kissed before.

He was a man, so of course it was different.

His lips were soft but his stubble was rough. His body was hard angles and strong, and he smelled like... like sea salt and sunshine. Not florally or sweet. He wasn’t gentle or passive.

His hands were big and strong, the way he gripped me, held me. It was divine.

The way he kissed me, with his head tilted, mouth open, and his tongue...

Heaven.

And I could have so easily pushed for more. I could have rolled on top of him, sore knee be damned, and brought us both to climax, because I was turned on, and god, so was he. But there was something about taking it slow, enjoying this for what it was.

Closeness, tenderness, and finally just enjoying us. Letting each kiss run its course, every taste, every touch.

When we paused, our foreheads pressed together, our lips wet and swollen, I couldn’t stop the smile. “I could kiss you like this forever,” I whispered. “I wish I’d known it could feel like this. Nothing’s ever felt like this.”

He smiled, ducking his face and settling in against my neck. “It’s everything I imagined it would be. Better, even. I hate that you hurt your knee, but we wouldn’t be here like this if you hadn’t.”

I chuckled and rubbed his back, his side, his hip. “I was just thinking that,” I admitted. “That sure, orgasms are great and all, but this—being here with you like this—is kinda amazing. Slow kissing, slow tasting...”

He hummed. “Never realized you were the romantic type. Always thought you were... I dunno, immune to it. You were never romantic with Becca.”

“I was never romantic with anyone,” I said, then pulled back and lifted his chin. “I’ve never felt like this with anyone. I need you to know that. This is... crazy different. What I feel, how you make me feel.” I searched his eyes in the moonlight. “I want to shout it in the streets.”

He smiled, his cheeks pink. “I’m sure the neighbors would love that.”

I caressed his cheek with my thumb. “I want to write songs about this color,” I murmured. “On your cheeks when you blush. I want to sing about your smile or the line of your neck when you laugh.”

His eyes grew glassy. “Blake,” he whispered.

“I love you, Luke. I never knew what love was supposed to feel like. I wish I hadn’t been so blind.

I wish I’d known it was okay. I wish I’d seen how much I’d hurt you.

I promise to make it right; I’ll do whatever it takes.

I’ve never felt love like this. I never knew it could be like this. With anyone; with a man. With you.”

His smile was so serene, so perfect. His slow blink and long lashes, his beautiful eyes. “I love you, too.” Then he half cried, half laughed. “I didn’t expect the poetry. ”

“Poetry?” I said with a laugh. “It was hardly?—”

“Shut up, it was fucking poetry,” he said, teary. He snuggled in closer, and I instinctively moved my leg to rest on top of his and, of course, forgot that my knee was sore. I stifled a groan, and he shot back. “Did I hurt you? Is your knee okay?”

I nodded and pulled him right back in close. “It’s okay. I just forgot about it. That ointment might smell like roadkill, but it works.”

Luke sighed in my arms, and we settled into a peaceful silence, a peaceful contentedness.

I fell asleep the happiest I’d ever been.

I woke up with my dick pressed against Luke’s ass crack. The sun was barely up, fresh sunlight filling the room, painting the ocean almost a white blue, the sky much the same.

The blanket was on the floor, but we had body heat between us. He was pressed right up against me, his head on my arm, his soft breaths telling me he was still asleep.

My cock was rock hard, and I knew I’d have to crawl over him somehow, but my stupid knee was sore and even trying to flex my ass into the back of the sofa just made it worse because he squirmed in closer.

And mumbled in his sleep, pushing his ass against me.

Oh, fuck.

Yeah, this hard-on wasn’t going away on its own.

It was too far gone.

I was too far gone.

Never once had I thought about my dick in someone’s ass. Well, not before Luke. Now, pressed up against him, nestled in the cleft of his ass cheeks, my hand on his hip, I fucking wanted it.

So bad .

He mumbled something low and gravelly, then stretched a bit... and froze.

I kept my hand on his hip, holding him still. “Don’t move,” I whispered, begging. “Please. You’re killing me.”

He made a noise, low in the back of his throat. “Morning,” he replied, his voice thick with sleep and sounding like sin. He pushed back the best he could. “Doesn’t feel like I’m killing you.”

I laughed out a pained sound. “I need to get up, but my knee...”

He startled then, having clearly forgotten about that, and he sat up, looking back at me. “Oh shit. How does it feel?” He looked at my knee, but then his gaze stalled on my crotch before he finally drew back to my eyes. “Oh.”

I laughed, embarrassed. “I need to piss,” I said. It wasn’t a lie, but it was a good excuse. I swung my feet down to the floor and Luke helped me stand up, then helped me walk to the downstairs bathroom.

It kinda hurt to put weight on my leg, so I hobbled a little, grabbing hold of the sink. I expected Luke to leave me, but nope. He stood at the door and waited. “Ugh. It’d be easier to piss without a half-hard dick,” I said, needing to adjust my aim.

I finished and washed my hands, and when Luke came over to me, I kinda expected him to help me walk, but he half shoved me against the counter.

Trying to not put my foot down, I barely caught myself from falling over. “Uh, what the...?”

“Shut up,” he murmured, then went to his knees in front of me.

Oh.

Oh, holy fuck.

“Luke,” I breathed.

He looked up at me, his fingers tugging on the front of my shorts. His eyes were daring and bold. “I’ve never...” He blinked, then stared at the bulge in my shorts. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this,” he whispered.

And maybe I would have stopped him, given we hadn’t really talked about this.

But then he licked his lips and looked up at me as he freed my cock.

Oh, holy fuck.

There was no way I could have stopped him.

He inhaled, running his nose along my length, which was the hottest fucking thing. Ain’t no one ever wanted to smell me before. But then his tongue tasted my slit and it almost buckled my good knee.

“Oh fuck,” I said, desperate for more. I was trying to be patient, and damn, if I didn’t want to fuck his mouth. Holding myself still almost killed me.

He flattened his tongue, sliding under the head before taking me into his warm, wet mouth.

I groaned at the ecstasy, at the sheer fucking pleasure. I lifted my bad knee, and like it was some kinda sign, he took me deeper, making me cry out. It was too much, too soon, and Christ, I was gonna come too fast.

My fingers raked through his hair, and as he did something unholy to the underside of my cock, it made me grip the strands. He groaned something filthy and looked up at me, eyes dark and his lips around my cock...

And his hand shoved down his shorts.

Holy fuck.

He was jerking himself off while he was sucking me.

“Oh fuck, Luke, baby,” I whined. “I’m gonna come.”

He pulled off my heavy cock, and before I could think, he was on his feet and had my length in his hand with his own cock, sliding, pulling, pumping—and sweet mother of god, I saw stars.

His face in my neck, his hot breath, and he kissed the skin beneath my ear, hot and wet, and he scraped his teeth as he sucked, and I came.

Hot and hard, I shot my load. His body went rigid, his cock pulsed next to mine and spilled between us.

The bathroom spun, my head was empty of sight and sound, and all I knew was him. Holding him, his head on my shoulder, he was heavy and wonderful.

We clung to each other as we caught our breaths, and eventually all I could do was laugh.

“Jesus, fuck,” I managed, oh so eloquently.

Luke snorted. “Yeah.”

“Um,” I tried again and failed.

He laughed this time. “Yeah.” Then he pulled back, his blue eyes sleepy and smiley. “Shower?”

I nodded. “Words.”

He grinned. “Words are hard.”

I laughed. “They are. You just blew my brains out. Jesus.”

“How’s your knee?”

“What knee?”

He stepped back, ungluing our bodies, and of course, I stupidly put my weight on my foot.

Oh. That knee.

He pulled my shorts down, and his own, then unwound the mock-bandage from my knee. He started the shower and helped me in, and we washed each other. It was fun and intimate and oh so fucking easy.

After we got out and dried off, Luke disappeared for half a minute and came back with underwear and shorts, which he then helped me step into.

“You don’t have to do this,” I said. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it, but you don’t have to wait on me hand and foot.”

He stood up and his eyes met mine. “Who helped you when you had your surgery and with all the PT?”

I conceded with a groan. “Well, yes. You did. And it was awesome, and I appreciated it. But it’s really not that bad this time, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to. ”

“I want to,” he said quietly.

I nodded to the bathroom counter, the space where he knelt in front of me. “You didn’t help me last time like you did before the shower. Holy fuck.”

His cheeks flamed, and he picked up all our dirty clothes off the floor. “I need to start a load of laundry. You go start breakfast.”

Then he was gone.