Page 8 of Hearts of Fairlake (Men of Fairlake #8)

CHASE

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?" I snapped as I watched the four-legged fiend fuck up my curtains...my new curtains. "I swear to fucking God if you don't?—"

"Stop cursing at the cats," Devin chided from the other room. "You know that just eggs them on and increases your blood pressure."

"My blood pressure is fine ," I snapped.

Devin leaned around the corner, raising a brow. "Prehypertension."

I scowled as he leaned back out of sight and moved to grab the offending cat from the curtain as carefully as I could. Not necessarily because I didn't want to hurt the dumb beast, but because I didn't want him tearing up my curtains any further. "Why, Cole, why are you like this?"

The white fluffball had the audacity to start purring as I held him, making me scowl even harder. People swore up and down that when the cats grew older, they would calm down, but I had yet to see that happen. Sure, they didn't cause the mischief they used to, but that wasn't what I'd call calm .

"Here," I said, tossing Cole onto the couch next to his brother, who was serenely blinking up at the ceiling. "Go bother your brother and leave my curtains alone."

I heard a snort but decided to let the unspoken comment stay that way. We both knew Devin had all but taken over my house after he'd finally come back from his soul-searching journey. It started with little things, like plants that he carefully hung near windows or on shelves, making sure to get ones the cats wouldn't die from eating. Then, it had been new rugs, pillows for the couches, sheets, and so many other things I’d lost track.

"You were just above bachelor chic," he’d informed me with a smile as he made me help him put on the new bed set.

"You're going to make it look like a goddamn magazine cover in here."

He'd chuckled, tucking in the last corner of the fitted sheet. “But it will be a nice magazine cover, one I'm not going to fret about if someone gets dust on the table or dirt on the furniture. We're allowed to have nice things, ."

"Sure," I said, raising a brow as he sprawled on the bed, on his back, grinning up at me.

"Why don't we see how comfortable these sheets are and how long they hold on," he'd said, unbuttoning his pants.

I was being played, but that didn't stop me from swooping onto the bed to give him precisely what we both wanted. People could joke about how much I was wrapped around his little finger, but they were completely and utterly right. Not that I'd give the bastards the pleasure of knowing that, but still.

So, in reality, they weren't my curtains. They were the curtains of the snarky little shit doing something in the hallway leading to the back bedroom and the bathroom. It probably involved whatever he'd bought yesterday. Sometimes, he could be sneaky about the stuff he bought, like he'd been yesterday, stowing the bag in the back closet where I normally didn't look. That he'd tried to be slick told me whatever he'd bought had been expensive, or he knew I wouldn't like it.

"Quit ruining his curtains," I muttered to the cat as quietly as possible. That was followed by a hum of agreement from the hallway, making me roll my eyes. "You're being awfully well-behaved. I expected at least three comments by now."

"You seem to be managing the conversation on your own just fine," Devin said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "I wouldn't want to interrupt the best conversation you'll have all day."

"With the cats?"

"With yourself."

"Hilarious, Devin."

"Aren't you the one who said the only way you were getting good conversation was with yourself?"

"Yeah, because Bennett wouldn't shut the fuck up," I growled. "You'd think I'd be used to it after years of dealing with his ass, but no, it's still as annoying as ever. He never shuts up."

Devin appeared, the familiar devious smile on his face as he crumpled up what looked like a bag and some paper. "I know. It's a shame you can't shut him up like you used to."

"Like I…Devin," I groaned, rubbing my forehead in exasperation. "Why are you like this?"

"Because you love it," he said with a laugh, stuffing what was in his hands into the trash can.

"Love is a very strong word."

"Your history with Bennett will never stop being funny. Y ou're the one who gets uncomfortable, even after all this time."

"Probably because I don't want my boyfriend to mention that I used to sleep with that annoyance," I grumbled. It wasn't like I was bothered by the fact that I'd had a sexual relationship with Bennett for a while or that I regretted it. The sex had been fantastic, and it had been a good way for us to work some of our problems out with someone we trusted. But that was history, and while it had been good at the time, it wasn't something I needed anymore, and I felt it could be easily ignored.

"And your boyfriend," he began, walking up to me and putting a hand on my chest, "has told you several times that he's very glad you had someone like Bennett during those times."

"Okay, sure. But does it require you to bring up the sex?"

He thought about it for a moment. “I know you express yourself best physically, so yes, it's brought up because I know it helped you."

"I can see you’re holding something back. What is it?"

Devin grinned. “What? I'm not allowed to enjoy the mental picture?"

I groaned. “Devin."

He laughed, fingers curling around my arm. "What? I'm not going to get jealous or pissy about it."

"There's a big difference between not getting jealous about someone I was with before we got together and commenting on how much you enjoy the mental picture."

"What? We both know I think you're the hottest thing to walk this planet since Colin Farrel's heyday. And I'd be lying if I said Bennett isn't attractive."

"Wow, I get one-upped by a celebrity and the idiot. That's great."

He snorted. “I said the hottest thing since. Maybe I have a thing for mean-looking bad boys."

"I am fucking rolling in the compliments today. Stop before my ego bursts from being overfed."

His hands slid under my shirt. “Mean-looking doesn't mean you can't be handsome. Or sexy. Or the best thing that's ever happened to me, and despite all my teasing, I wouldn't give you up for anything. In fact, I'm bound and determined to keep a death grip on you."

It had been a long road for us, and neither would call it easy. Our childhoods hadn't been the best, but mine at least had been improved by his presence in my life, a best friend who understood and accepted me. Then he'd disappeared, and for years, I never knew where he was or how he was doing. Well, I didn't know exactly what or how he was doing, but I had a very good idea, or rather, several horrible ideas.

You wouldn't know it now, looking at him as he crept his hands further up my shirt to playfully molest my stomach and chest, but he’d been a heavy drug user. I never figured out just how hard it had been at its worst, but I’d seen him when he was fighting like hell to get clean. Of course, sometimes it was hard to tell who he was fighting the hardest, himself, the drugs, me, or the world. There had been so many times when I wondered if we would get through it with just the two of us, but here we were.

More importantly, here he was. I would never be able to explain how in awe of him I was at the strength and tenacity he’d found to get to the other side. The haunted, starved look that had marked his face and body for ages was gone, and the color had returned to his skin. There were a couple of scars on his arms from the needles and a mark on his face from when his insane ex-boyfriend and dealer had shown up to drag him back, but other than that, you’d never know what he’d gone through.

The other changes, the important ones, were beneath his skin and weren't easily seen. He didn't fidget constantly from a restlessness, an anxiety that continuously existed deep inside him. The hollow look that had nothing to do with the dark circles had gone from his eyes, replaced by the impish glint I remembered so strongly from when we were younger. He laughed far easier, slept more peacefully, and I didn't see him constantly looking over his shoulder in fear of what might be out of sight.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" he asked softly, his fingers no longer playfully stroking my skin. "You've got a lot of thoughts going on."

I snorted. “Thinking about the past. And the present."

"Oh? Not the future?"

I shrugged. “What's the point? We're set up for a good future. Why think about it?"

"Why think about the other stuff then?"

"It's not bad thoughts," I clarified for him. "I was just thinking where we came from and how we ended up here instead. I always wanted something like this for us but never thought we'd get here the way we did."

At that, he laughed. “Oh, I see. You mean you didn't expect we'd get together after I went off and became an addict, then came crawling back to you in desperate need to get clean?"

"Why do you do that?" I asked with a scowl. "You always put yourself down. Like you weren't the one going through hell and had to fight your way out."

His brow arched, but his lips didn't thin, which meant he was a little annoyed but hadn't gotten to the point where he was ready to start chewing me out. "And do you think I...did it alone? Like you weren't going through your own shit?"

"Nothing I was going through made it impossible for me to help, or even that hard," I frowned.

"I meant going through my shit, . You think I didn't know back then that you were going through your own hell just trying to help me?"

"I just?—"

"Like I couldn't understand the concept of watching someone you care about so much come back a completely different, broken person. Like I didn't see how feral and pitiful I was, begging you to help me because clearly, I wasn't managing it on my own. I can only imagine what that had to be like."

I ground my teeth, not trusting myself to speak. There was a reason we didn't talk about that period very much. People didn't know, but Devin had one hell of a temper, and when his teeth and claws came out, there was usually very little mercy for whoever he decided to tear into. Of course, I'd dealt with it before and could give as well as I got, but neither of us liked being that ugly with one another.

"Or when you were helping me, having to worry that I would keep relapsing. That the pills you were carefully feeding me to help with the withdrawal because I was too stubborn and proud to go to rehab might not be enough for me. That you might come home and find that I'd sold your shit for drugs or just flat out disappeared...again. Or how you had to literally fight me more than once because I was losing my mind, fiending for the same shit that had destroyed my life."

"I get it!" I snapped, grabbing his hands and pulling them out of my shirt. Sometimes, it amazed me how quickly we could go from normal to spitting fire at one another. It wasn't like I was known for having patience or being mild-tempered, but Christ, Devin knew how to find the buttons that infuriated me and start mashing them. "Like you said, I lived through that time just like you did. I don't need to remember the specifics."

"You always want to avoid the specifics," he said with a frown, taking a step away from me now that I pulled his hands, his last lifeline to being calm, away from me. "It's like if you keep it locked up and think about it as little as possible, it'll magically stop being important. But then you'll stand there and think about 'the past and the present,' then turn around and get pissed when I talk about something you don't like."

"I don't understand why you want to talk about that shit at all," I told him. "The worst time of your life, and you want to pick at it like a scab? Isn't it enough to remember that it happened without getting obsessed?"

"I'm not obsessing when I think about the shit I went through," he told me with a shake of his head. "Just because you're willing to throw it all in a box and pretend it wasn't a big deal doesn't mean the rest of us are."

That was the real argument between us, and I could feel a familiar weariness settling in my chest. I didn't see the point in constantly digging at old wounds when it was better to leave them be. There would always be scars. I wasn't that insensitive. But I also didn't see why it needed to be dug up and exposed to the world. It was better to leave the bodies where they were buried and not stink up the room.

Devin didn't see it that way, and honestly, as much as I tried to see things through his eyes, I was unable to wrap my head around it. He was tough, but that didn't mean I enjoyed watching him dig around in his head and poke at things that only brought him pain and unhappiness. I couldn't see what benefit there was when he was obviously much happier without it. And yeah, it also meant I wasn't getting dragged into whatever mental abyss existed there either, which was kind of nice too.

Our lives were good... finally, they were good. We were being offered repeated chances at happiness, and I didn't want to drag us back down to where we’d been four years ago. What I wanted most of all was for us to embrace the opportunity given to us and leave all the shit we'd had slung at us behind where it belonged. Yet it felt like no matter which way I turned, he was prepared to drag it back up and...for what?

"I just want to be able to go a month without having to talk about the most depressing shit we've ever experienced," I finally admitted with a sigh. "And I know, you've said this is how you process shit, this is how you deal with all that shit, but that's...not how I do it. Maybe there's something wrong with me, or it's just something we'll never be able to see eye to eye on. But I don't find that shit therapeutic, Devin. I find it fucking exhausting."

"I love you, , but sometimes you can be the densest, most unsympathetic creature to walk this Earth," Devin said in a low voice before turning and leaving the room.

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to take a deep breath as I heard the bedroom door close. It had been quite a while since I’d upset him enough that he was willing to separate himself from me rather than talk or fight it out. I still didn't know precisely what it was that had gotten him so pissed off at me, but it was hard to argue with his logic. I could be dense, insensitive, and a bit of a dick.

It was a wonder someone like him even took the time to deal with someone like me. Sure, the closeness we'd had from being stuck together as kids went a long way, but even that had its limit. Yet it had been me he’d come back to when everything else in his life had fallen apart, and he'd been drifting through the nothing, and it had been me he’d turned to when he finally wanted to get clean.

And now, he was the one repeatedly choosing to be with me despite all the frustrations he had to endure. I knew he loved me as much as I loved him because, like hell were we going to be the couple who argued over who loved who more. But that love sometimes felt like more of a burden to him than a virtue, like he had to constantly 'keep me in line' or make me understand things that were obvious to other people in order to be happy.

I sighed, looking down, as I felt something touch my leg and scooped the cats into my arms. Cole and Leo began purring furiously, making me roll my eyes as I looked down at them. "You two are too easy, you know that?"

Cole blinked slowly in agreement, or he was trying to tell me telepathically that I needed to shut up and continue cuddling him.

"Kind of a shame I'm not," I said with a sigh. "Do you guys think I was being too much of an insensitive dick."

Leo closed his eyes, sniffing gently at the air.

"Yeah, I mean more than usual, though," I snorted, staring out the window.

How the hell was I going to find it in myself actually to propose to Devin? We couldn't go long without one pissing the other off or hurting their feelings. Sometimes, it felt like we were still battling our pasts, and at my worst moments, it felt like Devin was trying to help our past get the better of us. Then again, I had always relied on him to be my emotional guidance. Why would I change that now?"

Because it hurt, it hurt to go through those old memories and remember the desperation and fear. To remember what it was like to look at Devin with a horror I hoped didn't show on my face as I saw not the man I knew but his gaunt, haunted shadow. Devin had been right. The number of times I felt the quiet but persistent fear of what he would do when I wasn't around was always lurking at the edges of my mind. Sometimes, I still felt guilty about that because despite knowing addicts didn't act like the people they’d once been, it was still Devin, and I should have shown more faith in him.

My mind flashed to the ring tucked away at the back of my large toolbox in the garage. It was the only place on the property I could guarantee Devin wouldn't accidentally stumble across it. Not that I’d fooled myself into thinking he didn't know it existed. We had talked enough for me to know he was definitely into the idea of getting married. It was just important he didn't get to see the ring because that was supposed to be the real surprise...though considering I'd bought it over a year ago, the real surprise would probably end up being that I finally got around to proposing to him.

It wasn't like I didn't want to propose to him, but every time I came up with an idea or put effort into asking him to marry me, something locked up in my head and kept me in place. Sometimes, it was like now when I wondered if we were hurting each other more than we were helping. Other times, I feared that the minute I did, it would invite something else into our cozy bubble of happiness to take it all away. And other times, I couldn't put a finger on what was holding me back.

"I should probably go apologize," I said to the cats, knowing they would much rather I continue to stand there and hold them like babies, but that wasn't an option. Plus, I’d know quickly upon entering the room if it was the time to apologize or leave him alone.

Murmuring to the cats to get over themselves, I set them back on the couch and went toward the bedroom. Hanging on the wall was a painting, and I frowned, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. I felt a twinge in my chest as I remembered a few months ago, he’d taken me to some art fair in Fovel. Most of it hadn't been my thing. But there had been this strange watercolor. Small explosions of vibrant colors smeared and sparked all over the place. It reminded me of a picture of fairies my great-grandmother had when I was a kid, and I'd told Devin that, finally, I could see something in all the random art pieces.

Now, it was on the wall.

Sighing heavily, I pushed open the door and peered into the bedroom. Much like the rest of the house, the 'master' room wasn't large, and our bed dominated the space. Other than that, there was only room for the night tables and the TV I'd hung across from the bed. There, of course, were still plenty of those little touches Devin was so fond of, throwing himself into adding life and personality to the house with a glee that puzzled me.

Now, seeing that picture on the wall, seeing something that was so distinctly me in the house that wasn't an oil-stained pair of pants or my socks drooping off a chair, I understood completely. Our lives had never afforded us much in the way of a safe place to...exist. Everything we did was a reaction to everything around us, and no home had been ours. We could claim no real space as our own.

He had been doing that all along, finally feeling like he was in a place where he could settle down comfortably and start buying unnecessary decorations and plants because he finally considered a place his home. I had always considered it my house, but until Devin came into my life, I’d never considered it a home. Now, there were pieces of our shared lives all over the house, and everything he had been trying to do for so long was starting to make sense.

"You're a sentimental dork for getting that picture," I told the man lying face down on the bed. "How did you even manage to hunt it down?"

"Ethan," he said, and I grunted, realizing I should have known.

"My grandmother would probably get a kick out of it if she knew why I liked it," I said with a smile, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching him. "Of course, at the end of her life, she was the kind of person to say it was fitting a fairy would see fairies."

There was a pause before he snorted. “This was the same grandma that once told you after you hurt yourself that if you weren't going to be smart, you better sure as hell be tough?"

"That's the one. She also liked to tell me that trouble is sleeping, so why wake it up? Smart woman."

"She sounds like you ."

I opened my mouth and frowned as I realized what he was saying. Grandma Katherine had been sharp-tongued, sometimes to the point of being brutally mean, but she wasn't one to be bothered by something like that, especially if she thought she was telling someone something she thought they needed to hear. She didn't have much patience, especially for people she considered fools, and she was never one for making a big fuss about anything until you got on the bad side of her admittedly short temper.

"Oh Jesus, she's looking up from hell and cackling right now," I said with a sigh.

Devin rolled over, and I was relieved to see his eyes were completely dry. There'd been a few times in the past where, after we'd argued pretty heatedly, I’d found him with a watery glaze to his eyes that wasn't normally there. If there was a way to make me realize how much of an absolute bastard I was sometimes, that had done the trick.

"Hell?" he asked warily.

"She always used to tell people she had a reserved seat," I said with a shrug. "She never said she was a nice person, but fuck, she was still better than my parents."

"That's not all that hard to do," he said, pushing himself upright and staring at me. "I shouldn't have said you were the most insensitive creature to walk the Earth."

"You said I can be," I told him with a little smile. "And if you're not allowed to say that, I need to know what other truths we're not allowed to say."

Devin snorted, staring into his lap. "Sometimes I just...don't know how you do it. "

"Do what?"

"Go through life without constantly wondering about everything that's happened to us. Worrying about when you're going to fuck up or when something's going to come around the corner and make the other shoe drop. You...move on like it's nothing, and it confuses me and pisses me off sometimes. I just...don't get how you can do it so easily."

"Remember when you said I was dense with severe memory problems that I should get checked out?"

"I was pissed at you."

"I have that effect on people."

"."

I smiled, signaling that I was going to behave myself, before reaching out to take his hand. "I do worry about those things...all the time. But I don't want those things to get in the way of what I have with you. How long did I obsess over everything that went wrong in my life? I ended up an alcoholic with a death wish until Bennett came along and showed a rare moment of intelligence and saved my ass."

"I love how you can openly express how much you love me and how much you care about, like, Ayla and the other kids, but the minute it's Bennett, you become this crotchety old man who shakes his fists angrily at the damn kids on his lawn."

"Because I do love you, and you're the smartest, strongest, most hardheaded person I know. The kids are kids, and Ayla, smart as she is, is a teenager. They're allowed to be stupid because they can't help it. Bennett is a full-grown man who chooses to be an idiot."

"You do realize every time you talk to him like that, he just hears 'I love you, Bennett' and moves on with his life, right?"

"You were listening when I said he chooses to be an idiot, right? "

Devin chuckled softly, turning around so he could flop and put his head in my lap while he gazed up at me. "Sometimes I still wonder why you do that."

"You're being vague again. Sometimes, I swear you just want to hear me ask the question."

"Well, ask."

I sighed, knowing there was no point trying to fight it when he would get his way anyway. "Why do I do what?"

"Throw up all this stuff in front of you, between you and others. Everyone knows you care about Bennett. I mean shit, he saved your life twice, so he clearly cares about you...though he's more willing to show it openly."

"Pretty sure I covered that."

He snorted, pressing his face into my stomach and shaking his head. "I guess it doesn't matter why you do it because you have other ways to show you care about people. Plus, it's kind of hard to think of you as an actual asshole when I watched you pretty much play third dad, if not uncle, to Ayla these past years and then do pretty much the same to Bri, Adam, and Bennett's brood."

"They're kids," I said, stroking his hair gently. "I can't be mean to kids."

"You are gruff...but they're not fooled by it."

"With people like you and Bennett around them all the time, they're never going to take me seriously."

He chuckled, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. "You know, before we decided to be assholes to one another, I was trying to seduce you."

Ah, we were pivoting away from the conversation. Which either meant he was still trying to work his way through how he felt about the argument, or he was already moving past it. Which meant I would figure it out later. “Is that why you were groping me under my shirt?"

"You call it groping. I call it skillful seduction. "

It was my turn to snort harshly. “Skillful seduction. You've never had to seduce me a day in your life."

"I certainly tried a few times when we were younger," he said with a laugh. "And either I was bad at it, or you’re just dense."

"So sweet," I grumbled. “You've never had to seduce me since we started seeing one another. I'd say you only have to be naked, but that's not even a requirement. Just existing is enough for me most days."

"I remember when you fucked me on the dining room table that one time," he said with a snicker. "You told me later it was the pants I was wearing and how I was eating."

"Well, that's the truth. You gave me head by the front door when I went out to get the mail one time, all because of the pants I was wearing."

"...those were gray motherfucking sweatpants. Your everything was on full display and bouncing around as you came back to the house. And you were wearing that tank top that doesn't like to sit right on you and rides up to show your stomach. You were practically goading me into jumping you."

There was no way in hell he couldn't feel what effect the conversation was having on me, but I continued talking as he continued to pretend he couldn't feel me growing hard in my pants. "Or how you like to jump me when I get in the door, even before I can get my boots off."

"I've had a thing for you for a long ass time. You come home dirty, smelling like oil, gas, and sweat, and I associate those smells with you. Somewhere along the line, I ended up having a kink for mechanics. So now I have a thing for you and mechanics, so I can't always help myself."

I let out a low growl, knowing that was just as enticing for him as those stupid sweatpants. “And what time do you have to go into the bakery today?"

"Not till the morning," he said, his hand sliding into my lap with a smirk, flicking open the button to my jeans with a twist of his wrist.

"So...plenty of time," I said, knowing that if I wanted to, I could stretch the foreplay out, and he’d go with it. I'd done it before, if only to prove I could restrain myself when it came to him. The end result was definitely not something I was going to argue with since by the time the two of us had finally given in and ripped our clothing off, I was ready to lose it at the first touch. The sex had been even more intense than usual, but as I learned, holding out like that took willpower I didn't normally have.

And today wasn't one of those days.

I leaned back as he undid my pants and fished my dick out. He wasn't the first who had been thrilled to find a big partner, but he was one of a few who could match that enthusiasm with practical skill. Considering he made sure he didn't get upset about things like Bennett, I tried not to think too hard about where he would have gotten those skills or how.

A groan burned up my chest and out my mouth as he took me into his mouth, sucking half my cock inside and letting it fill his throat. He twisted his body to get a better angle before rocking his head back and forth. There was absolutely no shame or hesitation on his part, and he let the bedroom fill with the wet sounds of slurping and the low whimpers he made as he shoved me into his throat completely.

I was helpless before him, knowing I would eventually find the willpower and get moving. Right now, though, all I could do was soak in the feeling of his mouth and the grip of his throat around me as he bobbed up and down. His fingers dug into my thighs as he hovered above me, nails biting ever so slightly as I could feel him trembling from excitement. With his constant shifts at the bakery over in Fovel and my being at the shop all the time, we hadn't had as much time for one another as we might have liked, and it was the perfect opportunity to make up for it.

With a low noise, I pushed until he got the hint and let me roll him onto his back, my dick slipping out only long enough for me to kneel over his chest and aim toward his mouth. Once again, he didn't hesitate as I pushed forward, parting his lips with my thick cock and feeling it sink into his throat. There was only so far I could get at this angle, but when it came to blowjob positions, this one was easily our favorite. It allowed me to position myself on my hands and knees and effortlessly fuck his mouth.

That was precisely what I did, loving the thrilled moan that came out of his mouth and around my sensitive shaft as I began to pump. Devin could take quite a bit of abuse, so to speak, and roughness wasn't something I had to worry about, which was a rarity for me, considering my strength and...size. But even with him, I had to be careful not to batter the back of his throat too much, or he’d end up with a sore throat and get annoyed again.

He was also a sneaky shit and managed to find a way to lube up two of his fingers to slip inside me as I guided myself in and out of his mouth. Bottoming wasn't my thing, but with a partner I was comfortable with, I had no problem with a bit of assplay, especially with Devin. He was pretty sneaky about it, and before I could lock on to what he was doing, he had his fingers inside me, finding the nerves that made my cock jump in his throat. Now the little shit had it so that when I pulled out of his throat, I was fucking myself on his fingers.

Desire and heat rolled through me, and I pulled free from his mouth before I lost it completely. He complained as I slid out, and I pushed his hands away, bending down to kiss him fiercely. Outside this room, I tried to be gentler and kinder with him, but in the bedroom? Our favorite had always been hot and heavy, with more than enough roughness on top. I wouldn't dare manhandle or control him with our clothes on, but nude? The rules were far looser.

"No," I told him in a rough voice. "It's been days since I last got off with you, and when I come, it's going to be in your ass. And there will be enough to be there while you're working, and you can think about that all day."

"Fuck," he said with a little, breathless laugh. "You know I love that."

"So do I," I grunted, pushing back. "Now, let's get these clothes off. I'm going to fuck you on your stomach this time."

He might have protested the early end of the blowjob, but he wasn't arguing when he found out what my plan was, and he eagerly pulled at his clothes while I got out of my own. The clothes always ended up in a pile on the floor, and since I'd just found out we had the rest of the evening and the night together, we weren't leaving the house, so the clothes wouldn't be needed.

I dug out the lube and one of the toys Devin had bought. Personally, I didn't see the need or the appeal, but there was something pretty hot about watching him fuck himself on a toy. As much as I wanted to be the thing inside him, he definitely knew how to put on a show. Which only sparked a smirk on my face as I handed him both.

"Of course," he said with a shake of his head, but he still opened the lube and used it on the toy. It wasn't as thick as me but he still had to work to get it inside, knowing full well I was going to sit back and watch. More specifically, I was going to sit in front of him, laying back while he wrapped his lips around my cock once more and pushed the toy inside him. He could have used his fingers or asked me to do it, but no, he had to be stubborn and do it the hard way.

I knew the moment he'd successfully got the toy in by the way he stilled, his breath coming out in a gust against my stomach. Then he pushed it, using plenty of force to make sure the toy opened him up. As someone who didn't bottom very often, it always impressed me...and scared me a little at how good he was at it. He swore up and down that, yes, when there wasn't much prep, it hurt, but it was the kind of hurt he liked and could deal with.

I wasn't sure how to deal with that information, but I filed it away as a good thing, and moved on.

For me, it was the perfect fantasy brought to life. His entire body stretched out before me, his lips wrapped around my dick, opening himself up for me with little moans as his muscles relaxed. I ran my hand through his hair which was gradually growing sweatier, gentle as he bobbed, using my cock as a way to distract himself from the discomfort.

After a few minutes and plenty of fighting on my part not to lose it, I watched as the toy slid in and out of him with ease. With a smirk, I tapped his head, and he pulled off my cock. I was able to twist around to bend down and kiss him fiercely. I hadn't even fucked him yet, and he had that sweaty, warm glow about him that screamed satisfaction. And if I had my way, that look would be even greater, along with the questionable ability to use his legs.

Snatching the lube off the bed, I rolled over and spread it over myself before grabbing the toy and slowly pulling it out, letting it drop out of sight as I quickly replaced it with my dick. Even with the toy, I had to bear down a little before I felt him spread open to me, the grip tight and hot as I sank in the first few inches. The noise that came out of him had to be heard to be understood, but it sent a pulse of desire so strong into my guts that I thought it would cramp.

"God, I forgot how much I missed this," he groaned, his fingers gripping the comforter we would inevitably have to throw in the wash because we'd forgotten a towel...again .

"I sure didn't," I grunted, pushing another couple of inches into him and reminding myself that if I came right there, I wouldn't be fulfilling my mission to blow his mind.

Even though the toy hadn't done the total job, it had done more than enough for me to slide the rest of my dick into him until my hips pressed against his ass. I wiggled around until I could arch over his back and pulled out, loving the sight of me leaving him, stretching him once again when I pushed back in. His breathing was already harsh, and I was glad to know I wasn't the only one fighting the inevitable loss of control that was already coiling fiercely in my gut.

Before that, though, I made sure to get him nice and loosened up, allowing me still to feel the hold of him around my shaft but be able to move freely without fear of hurting him. That first cry of his when I snapped my hips forward and buried myself in one fell swoop was magic to my ears, and I savored it for a moment before rearing back and doing it again.

We knew it wouldn't be one of those nights where we took our time and savored every last feeling. It had been too long, and we'd already got our emotions up earlier. All there was for me was to give into the moment, to let his cries of pleasure wash over me as I pounded into him, mercilessly pinning him to the mattress with my thrusts. Our bodies clashed as I finally held his arms down, using them and my knees for leverage as I kept pounding.

I was so caught up in what I was doing that when he tightened around me, it took me by surprise. I didn't always manage to get him off with just my dick, but when it happened, my ego never failed to take it with a grin on its face. I swore in a strangled voice as I felt him pulse around me, yanking the last vestige of self-control I might have had away. With a grunt, I shoved hard one last time, burying myself completely as I came hard, my vision swimming before my eyes as I gasped and panted above him.

The last of my strength was used to carefully pull myself out so I could collapse onto the bed next to him. It hadn't been my intention for the night, but it wasn't something I was going to argue with. I'd already done enough arguing today as it was.

"This is...normally the part where you say you meant to last longer," Devin said with a little laugh and a grin. "But this time...it was me."

"I fucked it out of you, you won't hear me complain."

"God, you sure did. Didn't realize how much stress I had pent up inside me. Should've realized the best way to get my stress out is to let you fuck it out of me."

I was never sure if that was the 'right' way to handle his stress, but as I'd proven, I wasn't the type to question things if I didn't feel like they needed questioning. If sleeping with his boyfriend helped him work through his problems, why would I be concerned? If that was the only way he dealt with things, sure, but he also went for his normal runs and worked out when he could. He had the gardening he tried to do on occasion and always forgot about until weeds overtook it.

Plus, it was hard not to feel amazing that I could wipe the stress from him with my dick.

"I'm just glad you're not the person who wants a thirty-minute marathon," I said with a snort.

"Mmm, no thanks. Getting fucked for thirty minutes sounds awful." He chuckled, wiggling closer to me to kiss my jaw. "All I need is long enough to feel it, enjoy it, and come from it. And you're perfect for that."

I snorted. “I see you're back to flattering me. I must have done something right. "

"You did. And when my legs start working again, I'm going to use them to get up and go make you some dinner."

"You don't have to do that," I grumbled. "We can order a pizza or something."

Devin snorted, pushing his face into my neck and kissing me softly. “Nope. You're supposed to be watching your blood pressure."

"Devin," I complained, actually whining because who the fuck was going to know that my boyfriend was capable of making me whine when no one had done it since I was five?

"Plus," he said, pulling his face from my neck and kissing my chin. "You took care of me. Now I want to take care of you."

"Getting dinner for sex makes me feel like a hooker," I said wryly, knowing I was already losing the battle.

He smiled gently and I felt my chest tighten at the happiness in his face. “Well, I like taking care of you. I'm at a place in my life where I'm not fighting a losing battle to take care of myself. I have enough of everything that I can take care of myself and other people at the same time. You've never really had someone to take care of you, and I want to. It's a good reminder that I have finally won the battle I've been fighting my whole life, and stuff like making you dinner or doing the laundry, cleaning the house, whatever, is a way to celebrate that."

Which just went to show that I was never going to win the argument. That was enough to make me lose any desire to argue or try to be stubborn about needing someone to take care of me. He hadn't said it, but I took care of him just the same, always had from the moment we became friends. Now, we were both finally able to do it without having another big fight on our hands that demanded more attention.

"Will you cook naked?" I asked with a grin .

"Uh, you put one hell of a load up my ass. I'm not sure cooking naked is a good idea," he said with a chuckle.

My stomach twisted pleasantly at the idea, and no, I didn't care that it made me a possessive bastard to be turned on by the idea of my cum inside him. "We can always clean it up. And keep talking like that, and you'll end up with another one up there."

"Mmm, promises, promises," he purred, pushing up. "I'm putting underwear on, at least. You can still stare because I know you will."

"Damn right," I said with a snort.

He slid off the bed to grab his underwear, and I followed him out of the room, a new bounce in his step. Maybe it was just the sex, but part of me couldn't help but think about how I’d been doom prophesying about our relationship only minutes ago. Now, I watched him walk out of the room, humming to himself, as he set out to make a meal for us that he could be proud of.

I knew two things.

I loved him more than anything I’d ever loved in my life and would do anything to keep him in my life.

And I needed to dig that ring out from my workshop very soon and give him the proposal he deserved.