Page 57 of The Intimacy of Skin

A constant, inviting pressure ground against my morning wood.

Behind closed eyelids, I reached blindly for the cause.

I found Crew’s hips, his ass the pressure I was feeling.

Moving forward slightly, I found the crook of his neck and groaned into it.

He shivered in my hold, his skin warmed by my body heat.

Everything was sluggish. My head was cloudy, the only coherent part of the moment begging me to chase the pleasure I was being given.

I rolled into him, gripping his hips and kissing the side of his neck.

He smelled like me. My soap on his skin, tainting it for anyone and anything else.

In my sleep-ridden haze, I was infatuated with it.

Crew’s scent mingling with my own. The hungry, delicious, woodsy scent that became my signature over the years.

The woods had never smelled so sexy.

Crew moaned in front of me as our bodies came together in a rhythm decided by fate.

Neither of us had control over the pace.

I scraped my teeth over the skin beneath his ear, licking and savoring the slight saltiness of sweat accumulated there.

My hands, burning with the need to touch and feel, trailed up his sleep shirt, finding every soft plane of skin and each textured patch of scarring.

He arched into me, his back bowing, reaching further for my hands. Each touch felt like the first. My fingertips were equally starved as my cock. I grazed my hands up his chest, feeling and mapping every inch before graciously, teasingly following down the path of his stomach.

There was a thin line between leisurely exploring and purposefully seeking. I was close to crossing it—I could feel it in the hitch of Crew’s breath. Could taste it on his skin the moment I curled my hand below his boxers, spreading my palm along the curls of his pubes.

Though my eyes were closed, I could see how beautiful he was. I knew his stomach was flexing and his hips were struggling to follow the choreography we were slaves to.

The heat kicked on, whooshing through the bedroom as I lowered my hand further. I reached for his cock, gathering the leaking precum pooling from his cockhead. Using it to slick my hand, I pumped him in slow, easy strokes and waited with bated breath for the music to begin.

Just under his breath, Crew groaned. The first few strokes I gave him took his breath away, leaving him momentarily silent. With time, as I rocked against his clothed ass, he found his voice.

It was beautiful. His moans made everything else seem useless and inadequate.

The only thing that mattered was our bodies, our souls, and the mutual heart we undoubtedly shared.

Mine beat for his, and his beat for mine as they each raced and pounded.

Crew fucked into my fist, grinding himself into me more and more.

I panted against him, pressing passionate kisses against his shoulder as everything started to fade away. The blankets over us created a cocoon of fire where the smoke hid away in the darkness.

We were… everything.

Time existed simply to bring us to this moment. Our matching whimpers, reaching an octave higher than the soothing whoosh of the heat.

“Price,” he whispered, my name catching at the end of a long, low moan. It fed me. Kept me whole. I could live on nothing but Crew’s voice for the rest of my life. His touch. His gaze, even.

I nuzzled my face into his neck, pushing myself closer to the edge. I concentrated on driving him wild as well, never picking up too fast a pace. We were languid and liquid; a gentle, dripping rain and a simmering stream.

Crew went quiet just as I got louder. We were a perfect match, creeping closer to something only we could understand.

I held him closer against me, noting each of his muscles that tightened, his limbs starting to shake just before a sharp intake of air.

“Oh god.” His head slid against my shoulder, his body shivering as spurts of cum washed over my hand.

I felt it coating me, soaking into the cotton of his underwear. I pumped his cock until Crew began to whimper. My balls drew up, begging for more. It was growing in my stomach. I was panting into his skin, unable to combat the rush of adrenaline.

A final thrust of my hips and I was gone, washing away everything terrible and bringing in everything wonderful as I spilled in my briefs against Crew’s ass. So much pressure and tension released; it was a miracle I was still whole once the wave relinquished me.

We let the world continue around us. I knew the birds were still chirping and lives were still going, but we were at a standstill. Nothing mattered. All of it could wait until we were ready to face it. Like fire and ice, Crew and I needed time to settle into our element.

Before the cum in our underwear got cold and uncomfortable. Before I opened my eyes and had to commit to living on Earth.

Until it hit. Not just the raging heat surrounding us, but the snowstorm, Crew running off, the notebooks—everything.

Our bubble of peace ruptured the moment I remembered something unforgettable.

Each entry of Crew’s diary haunted me again all at once, each word and picture he’d drawn pulling me into an invisible pool of raging lava.

There was a shuffle in my arms just before Crew’s hands cupped my face. “You read them all,” he whispered, his voice still scratchy with the morning we hadn’t yet taken on.

Sunlight burned my pupils for a moment, creating a hazy mist. After blinking a few times, I realized it wasn’t the light bothering my eyes, but the tears that welled in them without me noticing.

My lips ached, forcing me to find his and lock our shared heart in whatever I could convey. Whether it was hope and love, or despair and anger for what he had gone through, I gave it to him because he deserved all of me. Every inch of my soul belonged to him. I only hoped he knew it.

“Yeah,” I croaked. “I read every word. I have no intention of simply trying to be with you, Crew.” I cradled him in my arms, desperate to soothe a decade-old ache I couldn’t see.

“I don’t have to try. Trying would be like saying I’ll give a little bit of effort and then give up.

Loving you is effortless. I don’t have to try to do that.

What I will try to do is be the best boyfriend possible for you, even though I know I’m going to fuck it up from time to time. ”

He buried himself in my chest, his curly, messy brown hair tickling just under my chin. I could feel his sobs as much as I could hear them, his tears soaking my sleep shirt. My arms felt raw as I tightened them around him, the fabric of his clothes rubbing against the irritated scratches on my arm.

Stifling a groan of pain, I gently untwisted my hoodie from underneath his head, having served its duty as an interim Pilly for the night.

It’d begun to cling to him, the sleeves wrapping around his neck.

The sight left me feeling out of sorts, knowing Crew had chosen something with my scent on it to sleep on.

Sobs died down to sniffles as Crew tilted his head back, looking up at me. Stars in every shade of blue reflected back at me, shooting across the sky of his pupils. “You love me?” he asked, seemingly hesitant to say the words.

“Of course I do. I think…” I let my eyes close as the crystal-clear memory of our first meeting danced in front of my eyes. “I think the first time I saw you, I knew I would see you again.”

A hesitant upward tilt of his lips formed the most hesitant smile.

The area around his nose and left eye was deeply bruised, serving as a reminder of the night before.

Handprints sat around his neck, dark and swollen-looking.

It hurt me to see him like that—a smile on his face with bruises as horrific decoration.

Crew had gone through Hell trying to escape his past. Though silent, I made a vow in my head to make sure he would never wear another scrape for as long as we both lived.

He whispered to me, his voice raw and wavering. “Like fate, almost?”

“Do you believe in fate?”

“I didn’t use to, but…” He ducked back down, finding solace in my chest.

“But what?” I pulled back enough to cup his cheeks gently, forcing his face towards me.

A tinge of pink spread across his nose, traveling along his cheeks and down his neck.

It mixed with the purpling bruise, reminding me of a country sunset he’d described to me once.

“Meeting you has me wondering about things. Like, was meeting you fate? Was it luck? Was it my mom, sending me an angelic soul who could see past all my bullshit and still have the guts to love me despite it all?” His eyelids slipped shut as he relaxed, the weight of his head falling completely lax in my hands.

“ There were Christmas decorations everywhere. At first, I thought they were mocking me. Maybe it was Mom sending me a sign in some way.”

I thought about it, trying to remember the shops we’d passed by while looking for Crew. “There have been a lot more decorations out. Not many usually get this festive. Do you think it was her?”

“I’d like to think so. Maybe she’s trying to get my attention somehow.

I can almost hear her saying, ‘Don’t you dare ignore your mother, C.

’” Crew’s laugh shook both of us as he rolled from my hands, laying his head on my arm.

His eyes focused on nothing, his smile fading.

“I haven’t visited her grave in a long time.

Willow has gone more than I have. It just hurts, y’know? ”

I did and I didn’t all at the same time. Not being able to see my mom—though it was by choice and necessity—ate me up inside sometimes. Nobody prepared me for the phantom ache of a hug I never knew I’d miss until it was gone. Just out of reach, yet impossible to find.

Pulling Crew against me, I nodded. “I know it does.”