Love In Slow Motion, page 24
So, what happened in the future? Did he sell and move? Did Fredric? Did Fredric want to just make this a sometimes thing? If it had been even just a week ago, a sometimes thing would have brought him comfort, but now the idea threatened to choke him. He didn’t want to ask about the future—it was still too damn new. He hadn’t told his best friend. He hadn’t told anyone.
He was just barely getting started at a new job—a whole new start to the rest of his life. Adding in relationship stress was something he hadn’t wanted. Because no matter what Fredric said, Ilan knew he couldn’t have a taste of this and then give it up forever.
“Do you want to jump in the kayak with me?” he asked abruptly.
Fredric’s brows dipped, and he let Ilan step out his grasp. “Sure. Is everything alright?”
“Of course,” he said, though he knew Fredric would see past his attempt at breezy. “It’s…been a lot. This. And I’m not unhappy,” he added when Fredric’s mouth dropped open. “I think I need to make sure I’m taking time to process.”
After a beat, Fredric nodded. “Then of course. It’s a gorgeous day out. There’s no sense in wasting it.”
Fredric took Bas out to use the bathroom while Ilan dug up something for him to wear on the kayak. The mood between them was tense, and he knew it was entirely his fault, but he appreciated that Fredric was willing to let him wallow as he dressed, then headed down for the dock. It was still a mess of wood rot, and the winter rains didn’t make it easier to traverse, but Fredric followed Ilan’s guide without a problem, and he slipped in behind him and took the paddle.
“I haven’t done this in years,” Fredric admitted. “Can you count the rhythm for me for a bit?”
It was easier than awkward silence or being forced to deal with his thoughts, so Ilan happily dove in and the pair of them made it a couple miles down the water before turning around. The flow of the intracoastal was almost entirely still, just a few waves from far off boats, and Ilan turned his face up toward the sun as it beat down on them.
“I love it here,” he said on a breath. “When I was a kid, I used to lie in bed at night and dream about moving here. I was kind of heart-broken when Julian didn’t want to move to the coast.”
“You could have gone,” Fredric reminded him. He dragged the tips of his fingers along the slope of Ilan’s shoulder. “He wouldn’t have blamed you—or resented you.”
“I know.” Ilan bowed his head and stared at a few ripples in the water, and he wished it was less murky. Winter was the season where the wildlife flourished, after all the tourists had gone and most of the boats docked. It felt quiet suddenly—and lonely—with his parents dead and a quarter of his found family far away.
“Talk to me,” Fredric urged, and Ilan felt himself soften, even though he really didn’t want to.
“None of this is how I imagined it,” he said. “Not…not the thing with us—though that’s also true. But I never thought in a million years…” He trailed off with a small laugh as the pressure of Fredric’s fingers increased against the back of his neck. “I kind of expected to get this house and go back to my usual routine. Now, I have all this time to myself just…waiting. And it’s lonely. I miss Julian. I hate that he’s content over there. I hate that we had to compromise being near each other to be with the man he loves. I hate that I’m scared to tell him about this.”
Fredric shifted forward and pressed a kiss to the center of his back, winding an arm around his waist. “For what it’s worth—even though I can’t predict how he’ll feel—I think he’ll be happy for us.”
Logically, Ilan knew he was right. Julian wanted nothing more than to know his best friend and his father had something good in their lives. But there was no way to know how he’d feel about them being together. There was no real precedent for it. It was some porn fantasy, not reality.
But here he was, stumbling head-first into loving a man who, in all reality, should have never loved him back. But he did. Or, at least, Ilan thought he could. And maybe even would, if he was careful enough, and brave enough, and patient with himself enough.
“Dear heart,” Fredric murmured, and Ilan’s pulse thumped, “we should head back. You’re exhausted.”
Ilan hummed, then shifted forward and put his paddle back in the water, counting off the rhythm until Fredric got it on his own. They didn’t talk, but they didn’t need to. His arms burned with strain in the best way, and he felt a little bit more alive as they reached the dock and climbed out.
Ilan left the kayak in the water, hanging the anchor off the side, and hand in hand, they made their way back. Fredric got Bas settled in for his lunch and bathroom as Ilan went into the back room. He started the shower and waited, because right then, the only thing he wanted in the world was to get his hands on Fredric.
The older man appeared in the doorway a few moments later, and Ilan moved to stand in front of him. “How does a shower sound?”
Fredric’s mouth softened into a smile. “With you?”
“Mm.” Ilan dragged a hand up his side. “Yes.”
Fredric’s breathing went a little bit ragged, but he let Ilan lead him into the bathroom and began to strip as the door shut. Ilan gathered up the clothes and shoved them into the hamper, then let Fredric trace his arm to the shower door before he stepped in.
“Big,” he said, reaching to touch the textured wall.
“It is. I also have a tub. With jets,” Ilan said as he stepped close and shuffled them both under the rainfall stream. It was cascading warm and starting to steam up, and Ilan breathed it in. “I like this better though.” He traced the path of a small stream over Fredric’s shoulder, then leaned in and kissed a few drops of water from his nose. “You look good like this.”
Fredric chuckled, but the sound had a little bit of strain to it, like he was holding back. He reached for Ilan’s face and then urged him into a kiss that lingered and lingered and lingered. “Wash me?” he murmured as Ilan pulled away.
Reaching for the soap, Ilan poured the liquid into his hand, letting it lather, and he started at Fredric’s neck. His skin was warm, silky, the soap gliding over him. His head was tipped to the side and water dripped from his long lashes. The grey in his hair blended seamlessly into the black, and for a moment he looked like an old Grecian statue in the British Museum. Alabaster, flawless, timeless.
Ilan dragged his hand down to where Fredric was starting to swell, and he pushed soap into his coarse curls before dragging a single stroke up his cock.
“God,” Fredric gasped, and he arched against Ilan.
“I want to do more,” Ilan told him. He was aching for it, aching to feel himself sink into Fredric. He wanted to be the first, he wanted to give him everything, to be the baseline to which he compared every experience after that.
And the part of him that was combusting with possessiveness wanted him to be the last. The only.
His hand trailed down Fredric’s back, then between his cheeks where he circled his hole. “Do you still want this?”
“Yes,” Fredric said, something in his tone like a sob. His fingers dug hard into Ilan’s waist. “I want to feel you.”
Ilan was trembling with need, but he forced himself to take his time, to clean off the last remnants of the afternoon from both their bodies before reaching for the handle and turning the water off. He grabbed towels from the hooks, and the pair of them dried off.
“I’ll take it,” Ilan said when Fredric was done, and the older man hesitated, holding the towel at his waist.
“My clothes…”
“No one’s going to see. The blinds are closed, and Bas is probably on the couch sleeping.” Ilan stepped in toward him and curled his hand around the one Fredric was using to grip the towel. “If you’re nervous, we can stop here. I want you, but I don’t want to push.”
Fredric’s eyes closed, lashes fanning just below them. “I do. I’ve touched myself, I’ve used toys on myself. It’s not new,” he said, and Ilan’s breath caught in his throat as he imagined Fredric lying on his bed writhing and fucking himself. “But it’s different.”
“Yes,” Ilan said. His fingers stroked over Fredric’s tense knuckles. “And remember, we have all the time in the world. This isn’t going away tonight. Or tomorrow.”
“Or in ten minutes,” Fredric said, and he pushed the towel into Ilan’s hand before stepping out past him.
Ilan felt a rush, even as he grinned at Fredric’s sudden, bold move, and he threw everything aside and took his hand to draw him back into the bedroom. The heater was on, and the room was pleasantly warm with the windows shut and the fan off. Ilan pushed the door shut as they passed by it, then he carefully made his way to the bed with Fredric at his side.
“Lie down,” he said. “I’m going to get lube and a condom.” He wanted to lay Fredric out himself, to spread him out on the sheets and kiss every inch of his skin until the tension left him. But he knew if he dragged it out, one of them was going to lose their nerve.
He’d never set a lot of stock in anal, but this felt like more than sex. It was giving, it was taking. It was letting go of compromise and accepting that they could have pleasure without it costing anything. The moment held as much weight as their sex the night before. It felt just as important. Just as new.
A first.
He walked back into the bathroom for the lube and the little box that had three condoms left in the strip. What he wanted was to sink into Fredric bare, but he knew better. A single test after his last hook-up wasn’t enough, and PrEP or not, he wasn’t going to take any risks. Not with this man.
Turning back to the room, Ilan’s breath caught in his throat when he found Fredric lying on his back. His left arm was at his side, his legs crooked up with his heels digging into the bed. He had his right hand around his dick, and he was stroking slowly.
“Are you watching me?” Fredric asked, and Ilan smiled with just a hint of guilt.
“I was. I can’t help it. You’re so fucking beautiful.” He laid one knee on the bed, then dragged his free hand down the inside of Fredric’s thigh, unable to take his gaze away from the way he was fisting his cock. “I could watch this all day.”
“Someday,” Fredric said, his chest hitching on his exhale, his hips gently writhing, “I want you to lie here and pleasure yourself while I listen. I want to hear you make yourself come apart.”
Ilan’s eyes rolled back, and he fought down a groan as he pushed himself between Fredric’s spread legs. He dropped the lube and condoms off to the side, then dragged flat palms down Fredric’s thighs before pushing his hand out of the way and taking his dick in one hand, cupping his balls in the other.
“I will do anything you want,” he said, and he was startled at just how much he meant that in the moment. “Anything you ask.”
Fredric’s grin was a little feral, but he didn’t make any unreasonable demands. Instead, he reached down and pulled his legs up and exposed himself fully to Ilan. It was so much. He had to look away for a long second, then he pressed the pads of two fingers against his hole. It was tight, coarse with hair, clenching with anticipation. He stroked a gentle circle around it without any pressure, and he watched the way Fredric’s body responded to every single touch.
He looked like he was on the edge, and Ilan considered making him come first, but he knew Fredric had wanted to wait—to feel all of this, to try and reach that climax while he was full. With a gentle hand, he spread Fredric just a little bit farther, then he grabbed the lube and cracked the top with the side of his teeth. It killed him to let go of Fredric’s dick, but he poured out a generous amount and warmed it for as long as he could. Taking his slick, dripping middle finger, he held his breath, and pushed it inside.
The noise from Fredric sounded almost inhuman—raw, filled with a sort of agonized pleasure. His chest arched, and his left hand trembled and shook. Ilan couldn’t take his eyes off Fredric’s face, off the flush rising over his neck, off his eyes closed and dancing back and forth behind his lids like the force of his pleasure wouldn’t allow a single part of him to keep still.
He stayed like that until he felt just the barest bit of give, and then he pushed until he was all the way inside. “Okay?” he asked.
Fredric swallowed thickly twice before he could speak. “Yes. I…more?”
It came out like a question, so Ilan withdrew his finger, added more lube, and then pressed the tips of his first and middle finger together, just to the first knuckle. Fredric let out a sharp gasp, but he no longer felt like he was fighting Ilan. No, he was pushing back, wordlessly asking for more, for deeper. For all of it.
Ilan groaned as he gave, as he leaned on one arm and pushed with the other until the curl of his ring finger and pinky brushed his ass cheeks. He watched as the hole stretched around him, as it opened, felt it relax until Ilan thought maybe he could make his way inside.
He was big—but not impossibly so. His dick was not intimidating, it was just needy, throbbing between his legs as he waited for what was coming next. “Are you ready for me?” he finally asked, and Fredric nodded.
“Yes. I…go slow, but yes.”
Ilan had no intention to do anything other than that, but he understood why Fredric needed him to say it. “I’m going to take care of you.” He leaned forward, thrusting his fingers in and spreading them until Fredric groaned, then he kissed the side of his knee. “I’m going to make it so, so good.”
He withdrew, and his hands were clumsy as he swiped them on the blanket, then got the condom wrapper open. He hadn’t been all nerves like this since he was twenty and trying to figure out what the hell he was doing, but he was not surprised that Fredric had managed to reduce him to that shaking mess.
He managed to get the thing rolled onto his dick, then he added more lube than he normally would before he pushed Fredric’s legs a little bit wider apart and used one hand to position himself. “Fredric,” he breathed out, and a hand reached for him, cupping the side of his neck.
“I want you, my heart. I need you. I’m ready.”
Ilan squeezed his eyes shut, unprepared to take that intensity of being cared for. But he wouldn’t want it any other way, because it was so Fredric, and he kept that thought beating in his heart as he pressed the head of his dick against Fredric’s hole and then pushed.
He went slow—torturing himself with centimeters of progress, not looking, but feeling the way shock pushed through Fredric’s limbs. When he was steady, he moved his hands, dragging them up over Fredric’s knees as he bent forward, and he took him by the hips.
“I,” Fredric managed, his voice rough and ragged. “I can feel you.”
Ilan forced his eyes open, staring down at the way Fredric was lying there with his lips parted on shallow breaths. “Can you take all of it?”
Fredric’s whole body stilled, then he reached down with both hands, curling them around Ilan’s ass, and he pulled. Hard. Ilan was powerless against it as he slid all the way in, the lube slick, the heat around him searing. Fredric shifted under him, his breath in small pants like he was uncomfortable, and Ilan knew he probably was. But Fredric’s hands kept him still.
“Full,” Fredric grunted. He released one hand, dragging it up the back of Ilan’s spine, and he pushed fingers into his hair. “Kiss me. Kiss me and fuck me.”
Ilan didn’t need telling twice. The space between their bodies turned into nothing, and their mouths met. Ilan fucked his tongue in with the same rhythm his hips took, more of a grind because he couldn’t bring himself to pull out far. Fredric’s legs lifted, his body less limber than Ilan’s, but he was just flexible enough to squeeze his calves around Ilan’s backside and thrust himself against the cock impaling him.
Ilan was close. He was so, so close. He could feel his orgasm building in the pit of his stomach, his balls going tight. “I…I can’t…”
“I know,” Fredric said. “It’s…I’m almost…”
Ilan pulled back just a little, shifting his angle, thrusting, again and again until Fredric arched. There. It was there, the right angle, the right force as Ilan picked up speed. His hand moved between them, grasping at Fredric’s cock, which was leaking a steady stream, and then he well and truly fucked the older man.
The room was a symphony of skin slapping against skin, of sharp cries and hard breaths, and Ilan swore he could hear both of their hearts pounding. The moment stretched on, and one ebbing pleasure melted into another and then into another, and he didn’t even realize he was coming until the ecstasy of it all peaked. He fell forward onto an elbow, shuddering through it, and he was only aware that Fredric had come at some point by the wetness on his stomach and his softening cock.
He swallowed, words beyond him, mouth dry as he eased back and pulled out. He was amazed that he managed to get the condom off and tied, flinging it somewhere in the direction of his bin by his writing table before he collapsed in a heap, the comforter cool against his back.
His eyes were still closed, sparks flashing behind his lids every so often, and then he felt a tentative hand push against his. Their fingers slid together, palms sweaty and sticky with the remnants of their love making, and it was probably the best feeling in the entire world.
“I didn’t know it would be like that,” Fredric said, his words slow and just faintly slurred. “I didn’t…it was never…not even before.”
With her, Ilan knew he was saying, and a perverse sort of joy rose in him because he wanted to erase every memory Fredric had of ever touching her. Rolling onto his side, he picked up a heavy arm and traced fingers down the side of Fredric’s face. His color had mostly returned to normal, save for a few splotches of pink at the tips of his ears. Ilan touched them to see if they were warm, then dragged his fingers along the shell before leaning in to kiss him.
It was slow, lazy, sloppy. It was everything.
“Will you stay tonight?” Ilan asked, making the same offer to Fredric as he’d received the night before.
