Beside You Ch. 23: Give In

Chapter Twenty-Three: Give In (Mature)

Why was I running?

I couldn't even see where I was going anymore. My tears blinded me.

My ankle hit something, and I was sent flying.

My body collided with the ground hard.

"Fuck," I groaned.

It took me a second to realize the surface I landed on.

Fortunately, it was grass.

The initial impact was on my face and elbows.

The grass itself softened the blow, but it still hurt like a bitch.

I wanted to scream and punch the dirt, but I refrained.

That wouldn't do me any good in the long run anyway.

Most likely, I'd only end up hurting myself more.

I wondered for a minute if I should get up and keep going, but I decided against that.

Michael wasn't chasing after me anyway… not after all of that.

I sat up to look around to see if anything was familiar.

Nothing was recognizable, not in this darkness.

"Ren!"

I felt a jolt of panic shoot down my spine.

I turned around to see Michael walking up.

"What the fuck are you thinking?" he asked.

"The fastest way to get away from you," I stated.

"It doesn't look like that worked out very well," he said.

He wasn't wrong.

The only thing running away did was get me better acquainted with the ground.

An awkward silence passed between us before he spoke again.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Why was that so surprising to hear?

"I think so," I admitted.

He stepped forward and held out his good hand.

"Here," he said, keeping his hand out.

It was going to take more than that to lift me off the ground. I felt glued to the dirt.

"Stop being stubborn," he said, "I'm sorry."

I glared up at him and pushed his hand away.

"Now you're sorry?" I asked, "You know, if you meant it, you'd stop doing it in the first place."

"I know," he sighed, "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," I hissed, "You asshole."

He just glanced away before sitting in the dirt in front of me.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, "Go away."

"Is that really what you want?" he asked.

He just sounded tired, and that probably irritated me more.

"I opened the door of a moving car," I stated, "To get away from you."

"Then run away," he said, "I won't chase after you again."

I just glared at him.

"I didn't think so," he said.

"This is my spot," I said, "Find a different one."

"Ren," he said, "Stop."

"Stop?" I hissed, "Fuck off already."

He didn't look so good, like at all.

He brought his knees closer to his chest, and he covered his face with his hands.

He didn't say anything for a little bit, and neither did I.

It was always hard to get a read on what Michael was thinking about.

I just wished that he would talk to me more.

He needed to be an adult and use his words.

"Michael?" I asked, "Are you alright?"

This was getting weirder by the minute.

"Do you seriously not realize how much you mean to me?" he asked.

I had to run that one over a few times in my mind.

By the tenth time, I think it was jumbled.

"What?" I asked.

He dropped his hands to stare me right in the eye.

"Do you think I get like this over just anybody?" he asked, "You deserve better."

"That isn't up to you," I stated.

"It is as long as I'm around you," he said, "I'll make sure of it."

"Don't be an idiot," I said, "You don't get to decide who makes me happy or not."

"Ren," he sighed, "It can't be me."

"Why not?" I asked, "How do you know that?"

"If you knew how fucked up I am," he said, "Then maybe you'd understand."

"I might," I said, "If you would just fucking talk to me."

He dropped his gaze to the grass.

The darkness couldn't hide just how blue his eyes were.

I could see the sadness there, but I couldn't just let him say things couldn't work without trying.

"Things are good the way they are," he stated, "This friendship."

"Even if I want more?" I asked.

"Ren," he said, "I can't."

"No," I said, "You don't want to."

He just shook his head.

"You never said if you wanted more or not," I stated, "You just said that you can't."

His eyes locked with mine.

"You think this isn't hard for me?" he asked, "I do want you. I'd be fucking stupid if I didn't."

I could feel my heart freaking out. It threatened to deafen me.

"But I can't," he said, "I can't feel the way that you do."

"You won't," I stated.

He took in a breath and laughed, but I could tell he wasn't okay.

"You think I haven't tried to love another person before?" he asked, "The love I feel for Benny and Gus isn't that kind of love."

He really didn't understand.

Was he not given love growing up? Is that why he has such an aversion to talking about his mother?

That might be why when Steven called him a mama's boy, he freaked out.

She might be the only person he knew how to love. Even if it might have been twisted.

"Michael," I said, "There are different types of love, that's true."

He dropped his gaze again, and he picked at the grass.

"Only you know the difference between love and something else," I said, "But that doesn't work if you don't truly know what love is."

He started to laugh, and it made me nervous.

"You think I don't know what love is?" he laughed harder, "I am fully aware of what I lack."

I just stared at him as he continued to laugh.

It was painful to watch.

It took a few minutes for him to quiet down.

"Do you lack the ability to love?" I asked, "Or do you believe you are not capable of being loved?"

"Both."

There was no hesitation in his answer.

"Do you not love me?" I asked.

I barely managed to get the question out. I was afraid of what he might say.

"Even after everything I just said?" he asked, "Do you want me to lie to you?"

"Yes," I breathed.

I watched the mental struggle on his face as he tried to decide what to actually say.

His brows furrowed, and he tried not to look me directly in my eyes.

"I don't want to lie to you," he admitted, "But I do feel something for you."

My heart sped up again. It was a little painful.

"But it isn't what you want to hear," he said.

"Tell me anyway," I said.

"Ren," he said, "We shouldn't."

"Michael," I said back, "Tell me."

He took in a breath, and I could feel his eyes on me again.

I was the one afraid to meet his sapphire orbs.

"I feel lust," he said, "I want to bury myself so deep inside of you that I can't come up for air."

My body trembled.

That wasn't a confession?

"I'm afraid that if I give into that," he said, "That you'll want nothing to do with me when it's over."

What was I even supposed to say to something like that?

"It's easier to make you angry," he said, "Because even if you're mad, you're still with us."

"So," I asked, "You didn't mean what you said earlier?"

"I said a lot of things," he said, "Most of them I only said because I was angry."

"But some of them you meant?" I asked.

"I must have meant some of it," he admitted, "If it came out of my mouth in anger."

I guess he had a point.

I didn't really know what to say to that.

How did he really feel about all of that?

"Were you really going to do it?" I asked, "Because you thought I was blackmailing you?"

"If I was going to lose you anyway," he said, "Then yes."

"What about now?" I asked.

I met his eyes, and I felt myself starting to shake.

Did I really want to know the answer to that?

"I don't know," he said, "I don't want you to leave."

This boy was stupid, I swear.

"What if things worked out?" I asked, "If we did…."

"No," he interrupted, "I already told you."

"You told me a lot," I said, "But this could work."

"Ren," he said in a pleading tone, "How many different ways do I have to tell you how awful I am before you believe me?"

"You're not awful to me," I stated.

"Don't fucking lie," he hissed, "We can't even have a conversation without fighting. Sex would only make things worse."

"Or it wouldn't," I shrugged.

He just stared at me. I could see the definite no in his eyes.

"You haven't done this before," I stated, "And neither have I."

"The ending is always the same," he stated, "Someone wants more than the other can give."

"I'm not asking for more," I stated.

I didn't know how to do this. I wasn't even sure what I wanted from him.

I just wanted him.

Maybe this was a terrible idea.

Right now I didn't care.

"Michael," I said, "If you really don't want to, then I understand."

He looked surprised.

"I'm not expecting to be boyfriend and girlfriend," I stated, "I figured more along the lines of friends with benefits."

"You're a virgin Ren," he stated, "Am I really supposed to believe you won't change your mind?"

"How am I supposed to know that?" I asked, "We're talking about right now."

"What happens if you want more?" he asked.

"As long as we're honest with each other," I stated, "Then we deal with that when it comes up."

"What if I want to fuck someone else?" he asked.

It bothered me to hear that, but it wasn't surprising.

"That is up to you," I stated, "Just don't expect me to have sex with you until you've bathed."

He looked surprised to hear me say that.

"And what if I want to sleep with someone else?" I asked.

I could see the irritation in his eyes, "I want to know who."

"Shouldn't I be granted the same courtesy?" I asked, "I'm not asking to see or hear about who you choose to impale."

His eyebrow arched at my words.

"Impale?" he asked.

"I was trying to say it less vulgar than I thought it," I stated, "Impale with your dick."

He smirked, "I kinda like the sound of that, actually."

"Yes, quite funny," I stated, "Michael the dick Impaler."

He chuckled.

The sound alone gave me butterflies.

"So?" I asked, "What do you say?"

"I don't like it," he said, "What if everything happens in the worst-case scenario?"

"I don't know," I admitted, "We can only trust that we'll both be adults about it."

"That's what I'm afraid of," he stated, "When we get mad, we say shit to hurt each other."

"I'd like to think that we'll be fine," I stated, "As long as we are open and honest with each other."

"More open and honest than we are now?" he asked.

"Are you kidding?" I asked, "This shit is painful."

He nodded, "It really is."

"We just need to be clear on what we want and expect from each other," I stated, "Right now, it's just going to be physical, right?"

"We'll still be friends, right?" he asked.

"It wouldn't be friends with benefits without the friends part."

He scratched at the back of his neck nervously.

"Let's get through the first time," I stated, "Then we can decide if it's something you want."

"What?" he asked, "Wouldn't that defeat the purpose?"

"Michael," I said, "We can talk around this all night, but I don't want to wait anymore."

"Wait," he said, his hands came up as if to shield himself from me, "You want to do this tonight?"

I didn't really think that much about it.

I wanted to know what he felt like. I wanted a lot of things.

"And if I do?" I asked.

"Your knees," he stated, "My arm."

I couldn't help but smirk.

"Be gentle with me."

"Ren," he groaned.

His hands went to his face again so fast I couldn't see how my words really affected him.

I kind of like it when Michael was flustered.

"We can talk about it more after," I stated, "How does that sound?"

His hands dropped, and he stared at me.

He was totally serious as he thought about it. I could practically see the gears in his head turning.

"I don't know if I'm capable of doing this the way you deserve tonight," he admitted.

"Are you trying to change your mind?" I asked.

"That's not it," he stated.

"Then why?" I asked, "Why not tonight?"

He made a noise that couldn't entirely be described as a groan.

"It's difficult to explain."

I found that a little hard to believe.

"You can still try," I said, "I think I can keep up."

His right hand covered half his face as he just stared at me.

"Are you tired?" I asked.

"It's," he grumbled, "Not that."

"Then?" I asked, "Is everything alright?"

"You really want me to say it?" he asked.

"Communication," I stated, "If we want this to work."

He sighed.

I waited there while it seemed like he was searching for the right words.

"I'm hard," he mumbled, "And I have been for a while."

"Okay," I said, "What does that mean?"

His hand covered his eyes so that he didn't have to look at me as he spoke again.

"It means it hurts," he said, "And I don't know how much longer I can wait."

I'm still not sure I get the full meaning of what exactly he's trying to say.

"Okay," I said again.

He growled.

"It means I'll either rush and hurt you," he said, "Or we don't do this tonight."

I felt the blush in my cheeks.

"Why does it have to be one or the other?" I asked, "Isn't there something we can do before so it doesn't hurt you too much?"

He dropped his hand to glare at me.

"What?" I asked, "Isn't there?"

"Well, yeah," he said awkwardly, "But it's embarrassing being the only one to get off like that."

"We wouldn't be doing it to embarrass you," I stated, "We'd be doing it so that we can…."

I felt myself starting to get nervous just talking about it.

"So that we can what?" he asked.

I heard the slight amusement in his tone.

"So that we can feel good together," I stated.

It was harder to say than I thought.

"Alright," he said, "It's hard to argue with that."

I think I was shaking.

"Was that a yes?" I barely managed to speak out loud.

Michael moved forward and gently connected his lips to mine.

"Yes."

Oh fuck.

What have I gotten myself into?

He pulls back so that he can stand up.

I took his outstretched hand and pushed up with my free hand.

"I know I should have said it sooner," Michael said once we were walking back in the direction of his car, "But you look amazing in that dress."

I stared at the ground.

My heart thudded so hard against my chest. I couldn't even begin to describe the emotions that ran through me.

"There are woodchips on the ground here," he said, "You aren't wearing any shoes."

"That's fine," I said, "I ran through here already."

I didn't even realize there were chips of wood or even what the hell I ran across to get where I was.

"Here," Michael said before he pulled me closer.

"Hold on," I panicked.

"Just put your arm over my shoulder," he said.

"You're hurt," I said, "You idiot."

He pulled my arm over his bad shoulder, and he used his other arm to lift me off the ground.

This was the first time another person has picked me up like this.

Not counting when I was a child.

I was a little too big to be picked up like this.

"Michael," I whined, "Put me down."

"In a minute," he said.

I just stared at him as he kept going.

I had to be heavy. Why wasn't he putting me down?

"Michael," I said seriously, "I'm heavy. Put me down before you hurt yourself."

"So what if you're heavy?" he asked, "I can still hold you."

My cheeks were on fire, I swear.

"I don't want to hurt you," I said.

"I'm more worried about your feet than I am about my shoulder," he said, "Buckle up buttercup because I'm not putting you down until we're at the car."

It was moments like this that made me love this boy.

How did he not know how to love someone when that's exactly what this was.

I didn't want to tell him I would love enough for the both of us because I didn't know if I could or not.

My ability to love was compromised too.

In a fucked-up way, we were two peas in a pod.

It took a couple of minutes before we reached the car.

Michael slowly released my legs so that I didn't fall.

The street was a little rough on my feet.

It was sharp. Thankfully I didn't have to stand on it for too long.

I sat in the back seat behind Michael again.

I watched as he took his seat and pulled the safety belt into the lock at the bottom right of his chair.

It was a pleasant silence that passed between us this time.

Even though I'm confident both of us were nervous about what was to come.

I found my gaze locked on the ear I pulled earlier.

My hand came up to touch it, and he flinched.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," I said, "About your ear."

"Oh," he said awkwardly, but he kept driving.

"And I'm sorry I slapped you," I said.

He shook his head, "I deserved it."

"Well, yeah," I said, "But I'm still sorry."

He chuckled, "Okay."

I rested my cheek on the back shoulder of his chair.

"I'm sorry too," he said after a minute, "Nothing about you is repulsive. I don't want you to feel like being with you would make me feel that way."

I find myself smiling.

"Keep talking like that, and my hymen is going to pop on its own."

He cleared his throat a little louder than I feel was necessary.

"Keep talking like that, and we won't make it to the motel at all."

He lowered the tone of his voice just to say that, and fucking hell, it hurt.

It was like he tightened his fist around my ovaries.

I felt myself whimper.

"Are we there yet?" I asked.

"Next light," he said.

It felt like such a long drive. Benny and I walked to the motel before.

It didn't feel this far.

Was it because of what was waiting for me in the room?

I glanced at Michael again, and I knew it already.

I was nervous. I was excited.

I was scared out of my mind.

This was happening, right?

My finger gently traced the tree branch I could see on his neck.

His neck curled as if he was trying to cut off my contact to his skin.

"Hold off on the touching," he said, "We're here."

He pulled into the lot, and he took in a deep breath once we were parked.

"Wait here a minute," he said, "I'll be right back."

He cut the engine and left me alone in the car.

He wasn't going to be gone that long, was he?

I was getting anxious the longer I sat there.

After what felt like too long, I saw him coming back.

He pulled open my door, and I didn't hesitate to get out of the car.

"You got everything?" he asked.

I nodded, but then I remembered my stupid shoes.

I had to get back in through the backseat then crawl over to the front passenger seat to retrieve my heels.

"You could have left them there," Michael stated.

I just huffed at him before putting the heels on.

It was so that I could be just a little taller next to him.

Once I was planted firmly on the ground outside the car, I shut the door.

Michael was the first to head to the room, and I was a little slower to follow.

These damned shoes hurt, but they helped me concentrate on the pain.

If I thought about what was about to happen, I might just burst into flame.

We made it up the stairs.

I felt my legs start to shake as I watched him unlock the door.

He pushed the door open and then looked back at me.

"You okay?"

I only nodded.

I walked into the room, and he shut the door with us inside.

I turned to look at him, and he was already staring at me.

"So?" I asked.

"Sit on the bed," he said, "I need to get something."

I nodded as he walked around me.

I kicked my shoes off and sat on the bed.

He used a key on what I thought was the closet until it opened up to the next room over.

"What the hell?" I asked.

I got up to peek into the room, and I realized we were in the wrong room.

Twenty-six was his usual room, the one he was in now.

"Why do you have two rooms?" I asked.

He pulled open the bedside drawer.

"Did you really want to do it in here?" he asked, "I thought that might bother you."

Did he just say something incredibly sweet?

Who the fuck was this, and what happened to Michael?

Whatever he pulled out, he put directly into his pocket.

"What did you need?" I asked.

"Condoms," he said.

He didn't look at me as he said it, and it felt a little like he might be nervous too.

"Are you going to leave this door open?" I asked.

He nodded, and he finally met my eyes again.

I backed up and made my way back to the bed.

I sat at the foot of the bed.

Michael walked back in and kicked off his shoes.

I didn't want to just sit here and watch. Well, a little bit, I did.

"First rule," Michael stated, holding up his index finger, "Don't ask me about the scars."

I nodded.

He stood there as if he was waiting for me to say something.

"Anything for you?" he asked, "Any rules you can think of?"

I glanced to the side, "Nothing I can think of yet."

"When you think of something," he said, "Make sure you tell me."

I nodded again.

I could see his hesitation. His hands tightly held the end of his shirt as he decided whether or not he wanted to remove it.

Why was he acting like the virgin here?

I stood up and moved closer to him.

"Ren," he said.

"Hmm?" I hummed.

I wanted to see the skin underneath the black fabric.

I wanted to touch his skin and memorize the lines and grooves of it.

"Take your dress off," he breathed.

I met his heated gaze.

"Unzip me?" I asked.

I moved closer so that he didn't have the chance to turn me around.

I wanted him to search blindly for it.

He seemed to like my plan.

His hands started at my hips but quickly made their way to my back.

I could feel his fingers tracing the line of the zipper.

My body trembled as his fingers gently made their way up my back.

He didn't once try to kiss me.

I looked up at him, craning my neck.

His eyes locked with mine.

He slowly leaned down to press a light kiss to my upper cheek, just under my right eye.

His hand reached the zipper and proceeded to tug it down.

My body was burning.

I couldn't explain why everything was so damn hot.

Michael placed a kiss on the side of my mouth before pulling away just enough to move himself lower.

It startled me when he moved, so I dropped my head to see what he was doing.

He kissed the bare skin between my breasts, and I gasped.

"Do these buttons open?" he asked between kisses.

I nodded, but I realized he wasn't paying attention.

"Yes," I managed to breathe out.

"Open them for me," he said.

His voice was deeper than usual, and it didn't do anything to soothe the ache I was feeling.

My hands went to the top button, and he moved away just enough to remove his shirt.

He must have known that I wanted to stare at him. He didn't give me a chance to admire his bare chest.

His tongue made its way up to where the top three buttons used to cover.

I felt him pull open the back of my dress.

The heat of his hands on my back made me groan.

It was like touching a sunburn, but without the pain that usually followed.

He pulled at the shoulders of the dress until it hit the floor.

My hands went up instinctively to cover myself.

Michael took that as his chance to stand up straight so that he once again towered over me.

My neck craned just so I didn't have to look away from him.

"Do you worry I might not like what I see?" he asked.

That wasn't why I covered myself at all.

"Or are you just not used to being naked in front of a man?"

I glared at him. Was that even a serious question?

"I don't mind either way," he said, pulling me closer to him, "Just know that I am aching at the sight of you."

I whimpered.

I could feel his bare skin on my stomach, and it was torture.

It wasn't the only thing I could feel.

His hands dropped to my hips, then just a little lower before pulling my lower half closer.

I didn't think I could get any closer.

I could feel the curves of his pelvis I was pressed so hard against him.

The heat from him felt like it was hot enough to burn me.

"M-Michael," I stuttered.

His hardness was pulsing, and I think that scared me.

"Ren," he breathed back.

His hips moved back slightly before grinding against me.

His height advantage hardly felt fair.

Every time he'd grind himself against me, his dick hit my belly button.

I'm pretty sure he just moaned.

I was so used to not being able to look at him or touch him that I haven't brought myself to do it yet.

It felt good with just touching the way we were. I just wish that I felt each of his slow rocking movements lower.

I slowly got to my tippy toes, hoping to feel him lower.

My hands clung to his back so that I didn't fall. I didn't mean to grip him as hard as I did.

He groaned before dipping his head down to meet me.

"Did you mean what you said earlier?" he asked.

My brain was already overheated. I didn't even know how to respond to his words.

My eyebrows must have asked the question my words couldn't.

He glanced to the side as if he was too nervous to even ask.

It took my brain a few minutes to catch up, but I figured out what he wanted to ask.

He was worried about getting off first.

He said it was painful.

Is that why I could feel it pulsating?

My hands slowly moved from his back to his stomach.

I could feel goosebumps and a smoothness that only came from old scars.

"Yes," I said. It was definitely a delayed answer.

His gaze dropped to my hands as they went down his stomach to the button of his black pants. They weren't jeans, but they looked like they could be dress pants, only they weren't.

He took in a breath as he watched my hands tug open his pants.

"Do you have a plan?" he asked.

I froze. I didn't get that far.

I was planning on pulling the thing out and going from there.

"I'd like to make a suggestion," he said, "If you'd like."

I nodded slightly.

His eyes locked with mine before he spoke again.

"Lay on the bed."

It took my body a good minute to register his words.

"On the bed?" I asked.

I was shaking.

No, not shaking.

The way he looked at me only made it worse.

His head cocked to the side, "Panties off."

I stared at him, and it felt a little like his eyes changed.

It didn't feel like something I needed to question.

I slowly backed away from him until the backs of my legs hit the bed.

It was strange. I could feel the weight of his gaze as it traveled down my body.

I could hear the words again, even though he didn't speak them out loud.

His eyes said it.

'Panties off.'

I met his hungry eyes, and it felt a little like something came over me.

This wasn't a serious thing.

This was friends with benefits.

Why did I have to be so anxious?

He was going to make what he wanted known. I had to do the same thing.

"What did you want again?" I asked.

He stepped forward until he was right in front of me, but he wasn't touching me.

"You heard me," he said.

I could sense his impatience. It was weird that it turned me on the way it did.

"You said you wanted something off," I said, "Right?"

My gaze locked with his, but then it went down his chest.

It was obvious that he had been in a fight. Well, that or an accident.

He had more bruises on him than I could count.

"What is it?" Michael asked, "Are you alright?"

I nodded, but I couldn't look away.

The first time I get to see him without a shirt, he's covered in bruises.

Damn you Steven.

"It looks like something is bothering you," he stated, "Is it the scars?"

I could sense his anxiety about that.

I shook my head.

It wasn't even something he had to remind me about. The scars were off-limits, as they have always been.

"The bruises," I stated, "I didn't realize how bad it was."

He chuckled, "Not all of them are from Steven."

"They aren't?" I asked.

He looked at me like there was something I was supposed to know.

"Stairs," he supplied.

It hit me, and I felt stupid.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"I'm not worried about that right now," he said, "We're in the middle of something a little more important."

More important than me hurting you?

He took the last step closer and hooked his finger on the black lace.

"How far does the birthmark go?" he asked.

I didn't really have time to think about it before he was pulling the fabric down.

Only a gasp escaped me as he guided me back to sit on the bed. I leaned back and raised my legs so he could get them off.

I kept them together. No sexy wide open come and get just yet.

He discarded the lace to the side, not even watching where it landed.

His eyes wandered the newly uncovered skin before I moved back.

"Your turn," I said.

"You want my panties off?" he asked.

There was a hint of amusement, but just a bit.

"Yes," I said.

The front of his pants were already open. He just had to push them down.

I watched as he forced the black fabric down his thighs. He made sure to leave the tight dark gray boxer shorts in place.

I don't think it had the effect he was hoping for.

I could see the outline of him, and it hurt me.

It made my mind wander.

What did it look like?

How big was it?

I was a little scared.

I didn't put too much thought into the actual act of sex.

He was already out of his pants while I was freaking out a little.

"Move back a little," he said.

I forced myself closer to the headboard.

"What was your plan?" I asked.

"Open your legs," he said.

Was he going to touch himself while looking at me?

"Michael," I breathed.

It looked a little like he tensed. His back straightened, and his shoulders curved in.

He moved closer until his knees met the mattress.

"I'm going to use your thighs," he said, "If that's okay with you."

A tingling sensation went down my legs as he said it.

I nodded.

"Would you prefer if I use a condom for this part?" he asked.

Use a condom? He wasn't going to be inside of me yet. Did it really matter?

"What do you mean?"

He leaned forward, and I watched as a devious smile slowly formed on his face.

"Would you prefer I use a condom," he asked, "When I fuck your thighs?"

I'm not really sure what I was expecting, but that wasn't it.

My body trembled at his words.

The gravel in his voice didn't help.

It felt a little like my body was melting from the inside out.

I can say with one hundred percent certainty, I was wetter than I had ever been in my entire life.

"Do you want to?" I asked.

It came out a little awkwardly.

The shaking of my voice didn't escape his ears.

"I personally would like to wait until I'm inside you," he admitted, "But when I cum, it will be on you."

I closed my legs, hoping the tighter I force them together, the more they'll soothe my aching.

"Okay," I said.

"You want my cum on you?" he asked.

It came out as a serious question. His eyes looked like they wanted me to beg for it.

I don't think I'll be begging for him to jizz on me anytime soon.

I will, however, probably be begging him to hurry up and handle this ache he caused.

"I don't know," I said.

"Really?" he asked, "Then what do you want?"

I didn't really care how desperate it sounded.

I was awkward, horny, and I didn't know what to do with myself.

"I want you to hurry," I admitted.

He stared at me for a minute as if trying to gauge just how serious I was.

"If that's what you want," he said, "Then don't mind if I start."

He didn't wait for a response. He pushed the dark gray fabric down.

There wasn't much warning. He was on the bed, and I could see precisely what those tight shorts were covering this whole time.

I found myself staring at it for a second.

Is it supposed to look like that?

It looked big to me.

I didn't have any other dicks to compare it to.

Maybe I should have watched more porn.

Looking at him and judging based on his body proportions, it definitely wasn't small.

I was getting scared again.

He knelt not too far in front of me on the bed, and he pulled me forward by my legs.

I gasped as I stared at the dick aimed right at me.

"You look a little nervous," Michael stated.

"Are you kidding?" I asked, "What's even happening right now?"

He just grinned softly at me.

He moved forward just a little, and I could feel his pelvis on me.

It was scorching. It did nothing to soothe the pain.

I glanced down, and he was moving my legs open so he could fit between them.

It was not easy. My legs were clenched so tight.

"Ren," he groaned, "Open up for me."

Oh god.

My thighs started to shake. I tried to open them, but it wasn't easy.

"You're shaking."

He had to move my left leg a bit around his waist so that he could grip my right thigh. It pressed against his stomach.

"Is it fear?" he asked, "Or anticipation?"

I tried to keep myself as calm as possible, but I don't think that was working.

"Both," I confessed.

"Good," he said.

Michael brought his left hand up, and I was determined to watch everything he did.

I could feel his eyes on me too.

His right hand gripped my thigh hard, and it made me look there.

His right hand distracted me. I didn't expect to feel something touch me.

My gaze went to his left hand again before I felt something press inside me.

I gasped.

"I expected you to be wet," he groaned, "But I didn't think it was possible for you to be this wet."

I shivered.

I felt him push a finger a little further inside, and my legs opened on their own.

"Now you open up to me," he purred, "In that case."

I felt a little more pressure inside me.

"Two fingers easily," he said.

His hand pulled back, and he gripped his dick before rubbing it a few times.

It happened a few times.

He would put two fingers inside of me, then he would touch himself.

"I thought you were going to use my thighs?" I asked.

"I am," he said, "I'm just getting us both a little wet."

He didn't have to say it like that.

His fingers went back in, and I could feel it. The ache was worse, but he was rubbing at it.

It felt good. It felt like any second the ache would stop.

It only brought with it a new pain.

This one I was familiar with.

After a few minutes of him switching back and forth between him and me, I could see just how much of me was on him.

The ache felt larger than it did before, as if more of me hurt.

"Let's try for three," Michael said.

"Three?" I asked.

He pushed his fingers in, and it was different this time.

"Lean forward," he said, "You should see this."

Did I want to?

I leaned my body forward, and it felt like he was pushing up with his pelvis.

I let out a whimper once I saw his fingers moving in and out of me.

It was one thing to feel it, but to see it…

My wetness made a trail as he pulled his hand away.

Michael groaned.

"I didn't think I could wait," he mumbled, "But fuck."

I watched as he moved his hand away so he could see the trail as well.

I missed the sensation of his fingers. The ache in me needed to be rubbed away, and it felt like he was the only one that could do that.

"Michael," I whimpered.

He glanced up at me before bringing his hand back to the origin of the wet trail.

His fingers sat right at my entrance, and he only slightly nudged in.

My body arched, hoping to get his digits in just a little more.

He pulled them back, causing me to groan.

"Is there something you want?" he asked.

He didn't have to drop his voice that low, did he?

I was already leaning back on my elbows so I could watch his ministrations. I don't think I could drop my hand without falling back into the mattress.

Instead, I think I had to use my words.

Damn it.

"Put them in," I breathed.

"Put what in?" he asked, "Where?"

The ache only got worse with his fingers right at the crown of my aperture.

"Your fingers," I gasped.

His finger just barely moved inwards to tease me.

"And where do you want my fingers?" he purred.

I took in a shaky breath.

"I want you," I moaned.

He looked like it hurt to hear me say that.

"I want you," I said again, "To put your fingers inside me."

He pressed his fingers in deeper, making me arch my back again.

I thought that was as far as they could go until they moved in just a little further.

Oh god, I couldn't stop it.

I felt the tight coiling in my stomach before I clenched tightly around his fingers.

I couldn't help but moan as the orgasm slammed into me.

Michael let out a noise as he dragged his fingers out of me.

My body pulsed as it mourned the loss of him.

Michael adjusted my right leg first, holding just above my knee.

I felt my wetness as he moved my left leg.

He moved up a little so that he could close my thighs around him.

My gaze went to his face, and his expression alone could have drenched me.

"That was unexpected," Michael said, shaking his head slightly, "And extremely fucking hot."

He pressed my thighs tighter together before I felt him gently thrust himself between them.

"You're still shaking," he said.

I didn't really have a chance to respond. He hugged my thighs and slowly moved himself back.

I laid back, and he pulled my legs up a little.

I could see the tip of his dick each time he thrust forward.

It was hot and a little weird.

I was on sensory overload.

His left hand dropped, and he groaned.

Was it just a coincidence that I could feel him against me every couple of thrusts?

It felt like he was aiming for my core.

Despite the little bit of awkwardness, it felt good.

"Fuck," Michael hissed.

I felt my lower back lift off the bed.

He moved faster and harder.

I think I could feel it.

Another orgasm was building up.

"Ren," he moaned.

I couldn't stop the moan that came from him making direct contact with my clit.

"Fuck," Michael breathed, "Your thighs feel good."

"You feel good," I couldn't help but say.

His left hand dropped to where his dick kept poking out.

It felt like a few more good thrusts before he stilled.

His hand must have caught his seed.

It took a minute before he dropped me onto the mattress.

His grip on my thighs loosened, so they dropped at his sides.

I listened as his breathing evened.

He met my eyes before smiling.

"Did you know that your birthmark is inside of you?" he asked.

Inside me?

When did he see that?

"What do you mean?" I asked him.

He indicated down, and I felt myself blush at the sight.

There was a mess between my thighs, and it was strange that I found it hot.

He didn't catch all of it with his hand after all.

"When I had you watch," he said, "About half in and down…."

I felt his finger trace where my birthmark is.

It occurred to me that he probably doesn't know one of the other places my birthmark is.

"Did you know," I asked, "It's also on my tongue?"

His brow arched at my question.

I stuck my tongue out at him, and he looked surprised.

The right side of my tongue has just a bit of discoloration on it.

So about a quarter of it had a bit of my birthmark on it. Only it wasn't the same color.

"Why am I only seeing this now?" he asked.

I shrugged, "Most people don't look at each other's tongues."

He gave me a toothy smile, "That's pretty cool."

It made me feel a little strange to hear him say that. My gaze dropped unintentionally to where we were just attached.

His eyes followed mine, and he stared at my cum covered thighs. Both his and mine.

"While I'm still in my right mind," he said, "How do you feel about pizza?"

"Pizza?" I asked just to make sure.

He nodded, not looking at me.

I shrugged, "I could eat."