Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
He ducked his head, shoving that feeling away. It was too much, when he still felt too bare and raw and tender to the touch, in the aftermath.
“Good,” he muttered thickly. “That’s how I wanted to make you feel.”
He didn’t need to look at Vic to know the man was looking at him—looking in that way he had, as though Amani was the only thing he ever needed to see, the weight of that gaze a thing that could be heavy and smothering…or could be comforting, if he’d let it settle around him and envelop him.
Taking a calming, slow breath, he let go of Vic’s wrist and pulled way from him to reach for the lotion, nudging him to shift position so he could start working on his other arm. Vic settled himself languidly against the tangled duvet once more, eyes lidding, docile as Amani kneaded the lotion into his flesh and searched out pressure points to ease his aches with a touch of relief, savoring every hitching sigh and every great shudder of muscle under smooth, pale hide, writhing against his palms.
After a few moments, though, Vic asked pensively, “Amani?”
Amani paused, hands spread just below Vic’s shoulder blades. “Hm?”
“Why am I like this?”
“Does it need a reason?” He resumed his slow, firm strokes over Vic’s back, trying to soothe him, to ground him with touch. “If it fulfills something for you and isn’t hurting anyone who hasn’t consented to be hurt…it doesn’t matter if you were born this way or something about the way you grew up or some transformative event in your life made you need this.” Bending down, he kissed the back of Vic’s neck, then the peak of sinew just above the groove of his spine. “It’s okay to just let it be without needing to analyze it to pieces, Vic. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to understand yourself, but sometimes people take something good and turn it into something miserable by worrying it until they’ve bitten it away and there’s nothing left but ragged edges.”
“If that doesn’t describe me in about just everything.” Vic laughed raggedly, shoulders shaking. “Have you done this a lot? That it’s so easy for you to just accept.”
“Not a lot, but…I’d figured out by high school that I might lean this way, but experimenting with people my own age…” He wrinkled his nose. “It was eye-opening.”
“I’ll bet. Randy sods with standing rods, overblown hormones, and not an ounce of sense between any of you.”
Amani laughed. “It wasn’t that bad, but…it wasn’t what I wanted. Once I was legally of age, I started…exploring. Local fetish clubs, that kind of thing.” He trailed off, hands stilling on Vic’s back again, resting just above his waist; he liked the warmth of Vic’s skin, the heat that baked off him, and in its own way this was just as soothing for Amani as he hoped it was for Vic, this quietness in the aftermath, this intimacy, this gentleness that let them both come down from the high. “It’s not uncommon to have one-time encounters. People who aren’t in an established dynamic, but still want to find someone for at least one session. It’s a good way to learn your own limits, and how to respect others’.”
Vic propped his cheek against his arm, watching Amani with warm, heavy-lidded eyes, glittering with unvoiced laughter. “I think I’m jealous of guys I’ve never met.”
“I won’t be going back for now.” He gently prodded Vic’s brow, prompting an amused rumble. “Don’t forget that exclusivity clause.”
“Nngh.” Vic buried his face against his arms. “That exclusivity clause is making me feel like a jealous, possessive arsehole when I have no right to be.”
“You’re right. You don’t. But I’m giving you a Mulligan, for now.” Amani gently flicked his ear. “Now hold still.”
Vic chuckled, but subsided, sighing and going still beneath Amani’s touch—until Amani felt as though he was stroking and petting a great wild animal into submission, taming it with his touch as he continued working over Vic’s body in a silence that shouldn’t feel as comfortable and comforting as it did.
As he made his way down the backs of Vic’s thighs to his calves, though, as he glanced up to pick up the lotion again, a bright spot of color on the glossy black glass nightstand caught his attention. A thick hardcover, with banners and many colors and a sword-carrying mouse in a cloak, Mossflower emblazoned down the spine.
He arched a brow, biting back a smile. “Children’s books? I’d never have guessed.”
“Mmn.” It came out as a sighing groan, drowsy, and Vic cracked one sleepy eye open. “I need…simple things, I guess. The politics and art and proper things are for coffee table books, just to be proper. For myself, I’d rather read something as far away from reality as possible—and I loved this series as a boy. I read every last one. Though I think I’m behind by about ten books, now.” He pushed himself up, propping himself on his forearms. “Do you want to borrow it?”