me to.”
I lay down and pressed my face into his arm. Somehow I ended up pushing my face into his armpit, being tickled by his thick hair there and at the same time deeply aroused by the scent of him. His finger stroked through my hair, and he murmured and moaned wordlessly. My hand found the sticky mess covering his lower chest and stomach, and I rubbed my fingers through it. The heel of my other hand pressed down over the front of my jeans. After about ten seconds I came in a burst of burning fire, white hot.
For a moment I was undone. I exhaled a shaky gasp.
“ Fuck , that was fast.”
It’s funny but, despite what everyone says, I’d always imagined the first time I was with someone wouldn’t have been so nerve-racking. But it was, and now it was over, I felt a hundred thousand times better. The ground was solid beneath me, and I knew where I stood. We liked one another. We turned one another on. Thomas had seen me come. I had seen Thomas come. We had been exposed, deeply.
“Okay?” Thomas whispered tenderly. The warmth of his breath shivered over my ear.
He still had his trousers pushed halfway down his thighs, his softened cock flopped against his stomach. He couldn’t have been comfortable. I wasn’t completely comfortable.
“You can pull them up if you want.”
Thomas dragged his brightly colored underwear up his thighs but kicked his trousers off and pulled the duvet around us.
“Is this okay?”
I pressed my face against his shoulder and nodded, enjoying the feel of his warm skin beneath my hands, his smooth chest beneath my cheek. We were lying in the dip of his bed, and that fact alone made me smile.
“Are you sleepy?” he asked.
“A bit,” I murmured.
I knew I should probably go and clean myself up, and Thomas’s stomach was all sticky against me too, but the moment felt too good to disrupt. I didn’t want to move from this bed.
“Thomas?”
“Yeah?”
I shifted so I could cup his face in my hands. I glanced between his dark eyes and plump lips, and gently as I could, brushed my mouth against his. He closed his eyes and whimpered softly. So I did it again, letting my tongue trace his lower lip. A fierce jolt of desire passed through me as the tip of his tongue touched mine, and I pulled back. It was way too intense. I needed to go slow. I wasn’t ready to lose myself, to let go completely. I laid my head back down, on his chest this time, and slept to the gentle thump of Thomas’s heart.
Chapter Eight
Our glass-like happiness….
T HE FOLLOWING day Thomas invited me over again. I liked being at Thomas’s house. I was beginning to feel it was a safe space to be. All the quirky pieces of artwork made me smile—and I noticed some new piece of art or another of Thomas’s crazy vinyl creations every time I was there now. They weren’t all animals like I’d thought at first, and I’d decided the musical instruments were the coolest. Like the animals they weren’t detailed, but you could see what they were, what they evoked—the curved shell of a cello, the flared tube of a trumpet. Thomas didn’t do detail, even in his drawing—it was completely unnecessary for him. His magic was in knowing what was essential to bring something to life and what was not.
His gran cooked us tea—he’d told her to make anything but chips or pizza, so she made spaghetti bolognese (which tasted nicer than it looked, thankfully) and we sat and talked around the kitchen table.
There wasn’t really an opportunity for us to sneak off to Thomas’s bedroom. His gran kept looking between us and smiling as if she knew something of what was going on. And every small brush of skin we managed seemed to make us both react wildly. My heart went into rapid-fire every time Thomas simply brushed his foot over mine beneath the table.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t… be alone or anything,” Thomas said, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot as we stood on the doorstep to his house to say
I lay down and pressed my face into his arm. Somehow I ended up pushing my face into his armpit, being tickled by his thick hair there and at the same time deeply aroused by the scent of him. His finger stroked through my hair, and he murmured and moaned wordlessly. My hand found the sticky mess covering his lower chest and stomach, and I rubbed my fingers through it. The heel of my other hand pressed down over the front of my jeans. After about ten seconds I came in a burst of burning fire, white hot.
For a moment I was undone. I exhaled a shaky gasp.
“ Fuck , that was fast.”
It’s funny but, despite what everyone says, I’d always imagined the first time I was with someone wouldn’t have been so nerve-racking. But it was, and now it was over, I felt a hundred thousand times better. The ground was solid beneath me, and I knew where I stood. We liked one another. We turned one another on. Thomas had seen me come. I had seen Thomas come. We had been exposed, deeply.
“Okay?” Thomas whispered tenderly. The warmth of his breath shivered over my ear.
He still had his trousers pushed halfway down his thighs, his softened cock flopped against his stomach. He couldn’t have been comfortable. I wasn’t completely comfortable.
“You can pull them up if you want.”
Thomas dragged his brightly colored underwear up his thighs but kicked his trousers off and pulled the duvet around us.
“Is this okay?”
I pressed my face against his shoulder and nodded, enjoying the feel of his warm skin beneath my hands, his smooth chest beneath my cheek. We were lying in the dip of his bed, and that fact alone made me smile.
“Are you sleepy?” he asked.
“A bit,” I murmured.
I knew I should probably go and clean myself up, and Thomas’s stomach was all sticky against me too, but the moment felt too good to disrupt. I didn’t want to move from this bed.
“Thomas?”
“Yeah?”
I shifted so I could cup his face in my hands. I glanced between his dark eyes and plump lips, and gently as I could, brushed my mouth against his. He closed his eyes and whimpered softly. So I did it again, letting my tongue trace his lower lip. A fierce jolt of desire passed through me as the tip of his tongue touched mine, and I pulled back. It was way too intense. I needed to go slow. I wasn’t ready to lose myself, to let go completely. I laid my head back down, on his chest this time, and slept to the gentle thump of Thomas’s heart.
Chapter Eight
Our glass-like happiness….
T HE FOLLOWING day Thomas invited me over again. I liked being at Thomas’s house. I was beginning to feel it was a safe space to be. All the quirky pieces of artwork made me smile—and I noticed some new piece of art or another of Thomas’s crazy vinyl creations every time I was there now. They weren’t all animals like I’d thought at first, and I’d decided the musical instruments were the coolest. Like the animals they weren’t detailed, but you could see what they were, what they evoked—the curved shell of a cello, the flared tube of a trumpet. Thomas didn’t do detail, even in his drawing—it was completely unnecessary for him. His magic was in knowing what was essential to bring something to life and what was not.
His gran cooked us tea—he’d told her to make anything but chips or pizza, so she made spaghetti bolognese (which tasted nicer than it looked, thankfully) and we sat and talked around the kitchen table.
There wasn’t really an opportunity for us to sneak off to Thomas’s bedroom. His gran kept looking between us and smiling as if she knew something of what was going on. And every small brush of skin we managed seemed to make us both react wildly. My heart went into rapid-fire every time Thomas simply brushed his foot over mine beneath the table.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t… be alone or anything,” Thomas said, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot as we stood on the doorstep to his house to say
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