His cigarette smoke wakes me up. Until last week, I hated the smell. Now, I associate it with this golden young man standing on my balcony in a soft, rumpled, baby blue T-shirt and nothing else.
I smile to myself, remembering how I hadn’t been able to care about stripping him properly before throwing him on the bed and devouring his plump ass. His briefs shackling his thighs, he’d moaned and pressed his hole onto my tongue. I’d gotten him wet and open before shoving into him as I held him down on his stomach. I’d collapsed on him as I came, pleased to discover he’d come without touching himself and was shocked by that.
I do so love firsts.
I get up, though, as one of his firsts jumps out at me again. I’m his first man. He’s twenty-four and he’s been with girls all his life. Reminding myself he came on to me last week when we met isn’t easing my worries anymore. I’m terrified I’m just a fling, just an experiment while he’s on vacation, because I’ve fallen hard for him, this kid half my age.
I only drag my eyes away from the sight of him lit by the sunrise over the ocean so I can relieve myself in the bathroom. I catch a look at my reflection in the mirror and try to school my features so I look more confident and less like I’m about to lose my boyfriend.
I join him on the balcony as he stubs out his smoke on the rail and tucks it behind his ear for later. He knows I don’t like smoking, and I love that he makes the effort, despite the fact he left the balcony door wide open. I move in behind him, pressing my semi-hard cock into the crease of his ass. I remove the cancer-stick and toss it to the floor so I can nibble on his ear and his neck with less of that scent.
He sighs and leans back into me, resting his hands on mine as I wrap my arms around his waist. His holding of my hands had surprised me earlier in the week. Being straight, I’d thought he would shy away from such intimacy, but he held my hand when we walked along the beach and always holds them when we fuck. Last night, as I’d eaten him open, he’d held onto my fingers. He’d threaded our hands together when I’d started thrusting into him, too. He does the same now, and it makes my heart ache.
“You’re quiet,” he whispers, resting his head back on my shoulder.
“Nah. Something’s on your mind.”
He’s known me for ten days and he already knows me.
I sigh against his neck and give him a squeeze. “You go home today.”
I can see him looking up at me, but I keep my gaze on the tide. If I look down, I’ll see the blue windows to his shining soul and beg him not to leave. I won’t do that. I’ve no right to.
“Do you want me to stay?”
Damn. I close my eyes and sigh again. I won’t lie either. “Of course I do.”
“So we can keep fucking?”
“That’s not all we’ve been doing, Ryan.”
He turns around and leans back against the railing, looking at me. Oh, how beautiful he is with the sun kissing his blond hair and tan skin, the blue of his shirt making those eyes electric.
“I want to stay, too.”
I have to step closer so his head blocks the rising sun and I can see his face. Ten days and I know him, too. He’s scared, but he’s telling me what he wants. I can’t let him flounder alone, and he deserves to know everything.
“Honey, I’m falling in love with you.”
He smiles, even as his skin flushes and tears build in those eyes. Opening his mouth only results in a squeaky, choked sound so he gives up on words and just nods at me. That’s enough for now.
I gather him up, wrapping one arm around his chest and the other hand holding the back of his neck. I want him to feel safe and needed. He clings to me just as tightly, his sweet, strong body trembling as he holds me about my waist.
I recall what he said to me the night he let me kiss him for the first time. “There’s something about you, Jasper, that I can’t shake. It’s not any one thing, I don’t think, but part of it might be that I can just be me with you. I’ve never had that before.”
Firsts again. I hope I’ll get to be around for a lot more of them as I stoop enough to get a grip on the backs of his thighs and pull him up. He chuckles and sniffs, wrapping those thick legs around my waist while I turn us back into the bedroom.
MY BALCONY © 2016 Missy Welsh
Missy Welsh writes gay, bi, and trans erotic m/m romance short stories, novellas, and novels.