by E. Davies
As I go soft, he lets go of me and steadies himself on my hip.
Then I realize his other arm is moving, and I gasp and wrench my eyes open. He’s kneeling over me and stroking himself, the pink head of his shaft appearing from his tight fist with every pump of his hand.
“Holy fuck,” I groan. I’m spellbound, watching him pleasure himself. His face is flushed pink, his eyes glassy and lips parted.
“F-Fuck… Caleb…!” Tag gasps and clutches at my hip. I slide my fingers into his instead, letting him crush them in his grip.
“Come for me,” I whisper, licking my lips. I’m fixated on the sight. I’ve never seen anything this hot in my life. “Show me everything, Tag.”
His cry rings from the walls as he throws his head back and bares his throat, his hips stuttering into his hand all of a sudden. Then time itself seems to freeze for just a moment, his hand wrapped around the base of his thick shaft.
And he spills his load. It’s not just spilling, either. The first squirt shoots through the air, and I gasp and instinctively blink. His thick, white mess falls short of my face, but it coats my chest and belly.
I grin with delight, squeezing his fingers. “Yes,” I whisper. “Oh, you’re beautiful.”
Tag sways where he is, helplessly thrusting into his hand as he wrings himself dry. “I… I can’t believe it,” he grunts. “How hot you are.”
My toes curl as I beam up at him. “Speak for yourself. Jesus. Wow. If this is taking it slow, we can pump the gas now.”
He laughs hoarsely and collapses on top of me, and I nestle into the weight of his body crushing me into the couch.
Then he kisses me, finally soft and tender again, and I close my eyes to bask in the moment.
This was everything I’ve ever hoped for and then some. It was incredible, letting down my walls and placing my trust in Tag. And wow, did he ever spoil me. My heart is about ready to burst with joy.
“Well, that’s modern art if I’ve ever seen it. Got a cloth?”
I burst out laughing and point him to the bathroom, but secretly, looking down at myself is so hot that I kind of want a round two already.
Turns out a filthy, delicious, delightful part of me loves being marked—or claimed, possessed… whatever you want to call it. Or maybe it’s just because I know it’s all Tag’s and mine.
Whatever. I love it.
Good things come to those who wait.
14
Tag
If there were a prize for biggest smile, Caleb would win it. He’s grinning at me just like Queenie. It makes me laugh, but I can’t stop stroking his shoulder and playing with his curls.
We’re dressed again, and we’re on the couch. He’s lying down with his head in my lap, looking up at me like he can anchor me here if he tries.
Which he is. I’m determined to stick around for a while, cuddle him and talk. Just to make sure that Caleb knows I’m not about to forget his number now that I got off.
Getting a glimpse in Caleb’s head isn’t easy, but I think I’m starting to figure him out. He’s confident in who he is, but not confident that anyone else wants that.
It makes my heart ache. Who wouldn’t want someone like him, honestly?
But he’s also been overprotected for his whole life. I don’t think he’s learned to trust his intuition—about what he wants or about what other people want.
But I know exactly what I want—I want to date this guy. So I’m going to make myself clear and make sure there can’t be any misunderstandings.
Caleb closes his eyes and hums as my fingertips run in gentle circles around his scalp. “Have you dated a lot of people before?”
Apparently I’m not the only one thinking along these lines.
“Slept with, sure,” I tell him and chuckle. “Dating? Real relationships? No, not really. I traveled a lot, which lends itself to hookups. I didn’t want roots anywhere before I moved here. I wanted to chase the quick thrill.”
Caleb cracks his eyes, watching me thoughtfully. For a moment, I’m expecting him to ask and I’m bracing myself to explain it all.
I should tell him. I really should. If this relationship is going somewhere, it’s not going to stay in the past forever.
But I don’t want him to think of me differently. I just want what we’ve got to continue. It’s not the right time yet—but I’m not going to lie, either.
“Do you regret it?” Caleb asks, and I stifle my sigh of relief.
“No. I learned a lot about myself and the world.”
“Like what?”
I let my fingertips wander from Caleb’s hair down the side of his neck, and then idly scratch his chest. “Like… the value of having something solid and steady to ground you in all of life’s ups and downs. Working hard but relaxing hard, too. Being present, however much it hurts.”
“Mmm.” Caleb rests his hand on top of mine, tracing my knuckles. “I’ve often wondered if I made a mistake, staying a virgin for this long.” He says the word with a little wince, like he’s expecting me to comically overreact.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t guessed. So I just smile at him. “Mm?” I encourage him to go on.
Caleb lets out a tiny, relieved-sounding sigh and closes his eyes. “Everyone makes it out to be a big deal, especially when you’re in your twenties. Like it’s this big rite of passage and you should be past it by now.”
I shrug. “Sex is just sex. God knows I love it,” I grin. “But it just tells me you had other priorities.”
Caleb nods, the back of his head sliding on my thighs. “Exactly. My priorities were my family and career. I always thought my relationship history shouldn’t be that interesting—it’s the present that matters. The past is boring.”
I shouldn’t take it as permission… but I do.
“Yeah, exactly. I want you to know me for who I am now,” I murmur, sliding my fingers into the spaces between his. I don’t have to tell him everything yet. I’m just testing the waters. “You get to experience all the things I’ve learned from sleeping around. I get to experience all the things you’ve learned from not wasting your time on assholes. Men, right?”
Caleb bursts out laughing. “That’s a good way to look at it.” He gazes up at me again, then nuzzles his cheek gently against the back of my hand, and I think I might die of how cute he is.
“Yeah. And neither of us have had serious relationships before,” I point out. “We’re both flying blind. And I don’t want to rush this. But I do want to keep… walking along a path that might lead that way.”
Caleb snorts with laughter. “Yeah. Let’s keep hiking. It’s a deal.”
Good. We’re on the same page. I really like this guy, but before I can call myself his boyfriend, I think we need to spend more than three glorious days getting to know each other.
At least one more day, right?
“And I’ll keep going slow,” I promise. “If sex isn’t important to you, we can work with that. I like sex a lot, but relationships are about figuring out what the other person needs.”
Caleb makes a strangled little noise. “Whoa. Just for the record, I’m very, very interested in getting laid.”
He startles me yet again into a laugh. I love that he says what he means and takes me by surprise.
“But if you’re seeing to my needs, you could make me a sandwich,” Caleb giggles, playfully reaching up to poke me.
“Okay.” I grin down at him and ease my thighs out from under his head, pulling myself to my feet. “Let’s see what’s in the fridge.” I stride over there and pull it open.
Finally, Caleb murmurs, “Tag? I didn’t expect you to.”
“I know,” I say with a smile. He’s still lying there, staring at me with his brow furrowed like he’s solving a puzzle. “That’s why I’m doing it.”
“Oh.” Caleb pushes himself to sit upright slowly, a hand rising to the back of his head, absently pushing his hair around. His eyes are shining now, a smile playing around his lips as he watches me
.
The fridge is exactly as neatly organized as I’d expect. There’s a shelf that seems to be devoted entirely to sandwich ingredients, so I pull everything out and start opening cupboards to find plates.
“Above the toaster.”
“Thanks,” I tell Caleb. “Any preferences?”
“Lots of butter, a little mayo.”
“Got it.” It makes me happy to do this little thing for him. Anything I can do to show him that he deserves to be spoiled and looked after.
As I make two sandwiches, I notice that Caleb isn’t saying much. I wonder what’s going on in his head. But that’s all right—maybe he just needs a minute to get used to the idea of someone spoiling him.
I sit next to him, passing over one plate. “Here you are.”
“Thank you,” Caleb murmurs softly. The way he gazes at me makes me blush, and then he leans in and presses his lips against my shoulder. “This feels… good.”
“Good,” I tell him. My chest glows with pleasure at hearing it. It’s so special to me that Caleb trusts me with his body and home, and his first times. “Tell me if it ever doesn’t, and I’ll do the same. I think that’s all we need to do, right?”
“Mmhmm.” Caleb grins. “God. I don’t regret the past, but all of a sudden, I feel like I’ve got years to catch up on. Is that weird?” He rests a hand on my arm, his eyes barely leaving mine.
I hunch awkwardly over the plate, afraid of dripping mayo onto his couch. “Nnh-nnh,” I mumble around a bite of sandwich. Once I’ve swallowed, I shake my head. “Does it feel like we’ve known each other for years?”
“Yeah. Yeah, exactly.” Caleb still isn’t eating his sandwich. His fingers wander gently up my arm. “Thank you. For… being so open.”
That hits my belly so hard that I can’t breathe for a moment.
Should I?
No, my brain tells me in almost the same moment. How would I even begin that conversation? So, hey, baby… speaking of being open, I’ve got my own Wikipedia page?
Those big eyes make me want to move the world just to rescue him, but I think the only threat right now… is me. Or rather, the person I used to be.
I envy Caleb a little bit, and admire the hell out of him. He’s always been true to who he is.
But I’m different. If he knew that I sold my soul, and wrote and sang a bunch of stuff I don’t believe in… I don’t think he’d respect me. And that would kill me.
He has to get to know who I really am first.
“Eat your sandwich,” I tell him. “Before I get distracted yet again.”
“Do I distract you a lot?” Caleb picks up his sandwich as he grins at me.
“Constantly. I’ve lost so much sleep over you already.”
Caleb laughs. “So there’s something that does keep you up.”
I smile and look down at my plate, swallowing my next bite of sandwich despite my suddenly tight throat.
Oh, he has no idea.
15
Caleb
I’ve been dreading this moment for hours. It feels like we could stay up all night talking—and I want to. But at last, I can’t keep Tag distracted forever.
He slips his phone out of his pocket and glances at his screen. My heart sinks as he sighs. “I guess I should go feed the mead.”
That wasn’t the excuse I expected. I just stare blankly at him for a moment as my brows pinch together. “Like, bring it a sacrificial offering of ravioli?”
Tag laughs so hard he starts coughing. I grin and wait patiently for my explanation, patting his back. “No,” he finally manages. “The yeast in my new batch. I feed it nutrients to keep it fermenting.”
“Which means…” I narrow my eyes. “More alcohol?”
He pauses like he wants to explain more, but then gives in and laughs. “Yes, more alcohol.”
“Well, I thought you were just escaping spending the night with me,” I tease him. I hope he can’t hear the nerves in my voice. “But I guess that’s an acceptable excuse.”
Tag pauses and tilts his head as he runs his thumb around my knee. “I guess I am,” he admits finally. “I wasn’t sure if that would be too much too soon for you.”
It feels like nothing could ever be too much or too soon with Tag. But I can’t say that without sounding desperate.
“Nah,” I say carefully. “I’d like it. Though… I do have to get up for work.”
Tag shrugs. It’s hard to read his face—like he’s keeping it studiously blank. “No problem. I could drive you back here early. Or you could show up in yesterday’s clothes and be the talk of the office for the rest of the week.”
Oh my God, is he actually agreeing to this? “I’m not dragging you out of bed too early?”
“I was gonna drop off another case at V&V anyway. It’s really fine, Caleb. I can survive one early morning.” He winks. “For a good cause.”
But under his cool exterior, I’m starting to catch glimpses of excitement. He wants this—he’s just trying not to pressure me.
Aww. How sweet. Meanwhile I’d climb him like a kitten rides a Christmas tree to the fuckin’ ground.
I catch my breath and rest my hand gently on top of his, flattening it against my knee. As I watch him, it feels like the world just shifts a little bit.
My heart and head agree on where we’re going.
“So? May I expect the pleasure of your company?” Tag teases me, sandwiching my hand between his.
I giggle and slap my other hand on top. “Sure. Let’s do it. As long as I get a taste of something to reward me for going out into the cold night.”
He grins and stands up. “You didn’t specify a taste of what. But I certainly wouldn’t take advantage of that.”
I pretend to gasp, but a little thrill races through me. I want to suck dick for the first time. “You’d better not take advantage of me. That would be simply terrible,” I flirt for my life, resting my hand against my forehead.
Tag grins knowingly, takes my hand, and pulls me to my feet. “Deal. A taste of mead in the moonlight.”
I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from squeaking as the romantic in me melts into a happy puddle.
When I can breathe again without embarrassing myself, I practically sprint for the door. “Let’s go.”
It turns out that feeding mead isn’t very exciting. I’m more interested in looking around at the steel and plastic kegs all over the place. The concrete floor and plain walls couldn’t be more different from the tasting room, and it feels like a behind-the-scenes sneak peek.
As Tag connects pumps to the huge steel tank, I wander over to the windows at one end of the meadery and admire the view—inside and out.
It’s interesting to see him in his element, trudging around the place in old rubber boots. I noticed he offered me the newish-looking ones. Apparently sometimes disasters happen, and he didn’t want me ruining my shoes.
Intriguing, but I’m glad no disasters have unfolded. Today has been perfect and I don’t want it to go wrong now.
When I turn my back on Tag and look through the long window at the end of the building, the view is almost as entrancing. A beam of moonlight from the crisp, dark sky illuminates a small lake in the rolling field.
“That’s all my land, up to the trees,” Tag says from close to my ear, startling me. I’m tired, and the beautiful view totally distracted me for a moment.
He smiles, puts an arm around my shoulder, and reaches in front of me. In his palm, he’s carrying two tiny tumblers, hardly bigger than shot glasses.
I carefully accept one and he shifts the other into his fingertips, raising it to his nose.
I copy him, and then do my best to muffle my cough a moment later as the alcohol fumes rush into my lungs. It’s a lot stronger than the ones I tasted before.
“Easy does it,” Tag coaches me with a chuckle. “Just a little sniff. Hmm. That’s what he said?”
I choke with amusement and elbow him, but he looks remorseless while I splutter my way to b
reathing again. “Okay, Mr. Fancypants.” This time, I inhale just a little bit with my lips open.
I’m greeted by a whole meadow of sweet floral scents, which is weird when we’re staring out at the dry, brown grass of late autumn. If the sky weren’t so clear, it’s cold enough to snow, and the moon is steadily rising across the distant pines.
I tip the glass back and sip, moaning with delight. There’s none of the heat I was expecting. This is a fruity, floral, sweet drink, kind of like I was expecting when I first thought of mead.
And it’s really nice, like a glimpse at a hot summer’s day despite the cold winter moon illuminating the landscape.
I shiver and burrow into Tag’s arm, and he frowns with concern and rubs my shoulder. “Warm? Need another layer?”
“I caught a chill coming in from the truck.” I give him an overdramatic sigh. “Better get some fire into my veins.”
“Mmhmm. A nightcap straight from the tank. That is also not a euphemism.”
This time I’m ready for his innuendo, and I can contain my snort. “Tell me about this, then.”
“Just a simple show mead. Honey, water, and yeast—that’s all.”
I glance down at the glass in my hand. “Really?” It tastes like he’s added all kinds of summer flowers and fruits.
“That’s the honey. My girls work hard,” Tag says with a distinct note of pride in his voice that makes me smile. “I’ve hand-trained them to go for the best-tasting stuff.”
I eye him, and by the twitch in his lips, I know I’ve caught him in another lie. “Stop pulling my leg.”
“Oh, is that your leg?” He bumps our hips together. “That wasn’t what I was aiming for.”
I laugh and shake my head. “So dirty a man. So clean a mead. How’d that happen?”
“Magic,” he shrugs. Then he smiles and tips his head back, slowly sipping, and I copy him.