The Safeword is 'Papa' (ch.7)
#7 of The Safeword is 'Papa'
Nick had gotten us a hotel room in the gayborhood. The cheeky bitch.
The gesture, sweet and romantic though it was, was completely lost on me at the time. We were too busy trying to kill each other with our tongues to notice the décor.
I found myself in the elevator, up in his arms, kissing the breath out of him. Down the velvet-lined hallway, clawing the clothes off his bones. Nibbling his throat as he fumbled the card key from his pocket. Room A-113 the door read, my back slamming painfully against it. _Click. _ In we went, tumbling through the door like the drunks we were.
* * * * *
Pink confetti plumed around me as I touched down on the duvet. Rose petals tumbled lazily end over end, right into my face. Fucking hell. He really went all out, didn't he?
Clothes were piling on the carpet - our shoes, his jacket, my pants, my shirt, his shirt. The palm of his hand slid over my bare belly, down to the elastic of my underwear.
"N-nick," I seethed, my breath hitching in my throat.
"Shhhh."
He leaned down to brush the tip of his nose against my navel. "I wanna see."
Claws hooked in the waistband, traveling down my hips. The cool room air hit me. I was exposed.
"Mmmmn..." Nick purred, grinning down at me, dismissively dropping my boxers by the side of the bed, the latest stratified layer on the mound. "Now this... was worth the wait."
* * * * *
Some time later, I was in his lap. We were in in the midst of a tangled nest of satin bedsheets. His hands were on my ass. My feet were hooked around his back.
He was... inside me.
I could never have imagined how it felt. The sensation was... interesting. To say the least.
I remember Nick being so gentle. He'd shift me delicately in his hands like some sort of precious cargo, rocking me against him. My claws dug into his back as I moaned loudly and freely into his chest. Our neighbors, if we had any, probably hated us.
Nick was prodding something in me. Something deep within that had never been touched before. Each pass sent electricity up my spine and made my insides tighten. A few times it even made me squeak out.
"It's okay," Nick whispered, kissing into the cone of my ear. "It's okay. Let it out. I've got you."
And that was the moment. The starting of the centripetal arc that would control my life for the indefinite future.
The moment I realized that I loved him.
* * * * *
I was being taught a new position, adding to my growing repertoire. Me below, gripping the sheets. Him above, arms outstretched, caging me in between.
"I'll go slow," he promised. "Okay?"
I turned my face against the pillow, nodding my cheek into it.
Oh god , I thought for the umpteenth time that evening. Oh god... this feeling!
I had nothing to compare it to. It was a sensation unique to that singular moment in time for me. It felt good. It hurt. I wanted him to stop. I wanted him to keep going.
I'll admit, this position wasn't my favorite. It eased the tightening sensation a bit, sure. But there was less body contact. And right then, I really needed all of him to be touching all of me.
"Nick," I groaned, fingers gripping the bedsheets, claws pitting holes that we'd later get billed for. "Nick... please..."
It was like he read my mind. He collapsed part of the way down onto me, pinning me beneath him.
"Oh... fuck..."
His hips gently guided mine, sending waves of electricity though me. I remember the cool room air and the starch from the bedsheets stinging my nose and the corners of my eyes. It was too much. All of it. Just... too much. Too soon, and for the second time that evening, I felt that tingling sensation begin to stir. Familiar, but somehow different this time.
"Nick..."
Was that me? Was that really my voice? I'd never sounded like that before.
"Nick!"
He must have known because he didn't ease up, didn't let me rest and recover.
"Oh... OH... oh my g- "
I reached out for something to grab on to. I found his arm, gripping his wrist tightly as I came.
* * * * *
Reverie.
We lay there in the tangled sheets, still together but not quite as intimately. He cradled me from behind, his lanky form curled against mine, his hand resting easily on my belly.
I wanted to tell him, guys. I did. I wanted to tell him so, so badly.
Nick's hand found mine, drawing it up. He kissed the back of it, kneading the palm gently.
The words were right there in my throat. But I couldn't let them free. I just swallowed them in shame.
We all make mistakes in life. Most of the time we don't see them coming. But sometimes, we do.
That evening I watched myself fuck up, fully aware that I was going to. I knew I was making a mistake by not telling him how I felt. But I couldn't bring myself to put the words into being. I was too scared.
And you know what? It hurt.
It really did.