The ex-con - Chapter 3 (Patreon)

Author’s note: All my characters are consenting adults (18+). All sexual acts depicted are consensual between the characters.

Chapter 3

The day felt longer than the others.

Calum didn’t leave the apartment, obviously. He couldn’t. Not until the parole office visits and sets the rules. 

He moved through my space like he was still learning the edges of it — opening cabinets, standing too long in front of the fridge, running his hand along the back of the couch as if checking that it was real. Every time I came back from a job he was in a different place, but always watching the door when it opened.

That afternoon I finished early. The last client had cancelled. When I walked in, Calum was on the balcony with a cigarette he wasn’t supposed to have, he must have found my emergency pack. He didn’t turn around right away.

“You’re early,” he said.

“Job fell through.”

He nodded, still facing the street. The smoke drifted up past his face. The white t-shirt clung to his back with sweat even though the air was mild. I could see the shape of his defined chest.

I dropped my keys on the counter and went to the kitchen. He came inside a minute later, closed the sliding door, and leaned against it.

“You always this quiet when you get home?” he asked.

“Depends on the day. But I love alone, not used to have company and I’m not crazy enough to speak to the walls.”

He gave a short, dry laugh. “Fair.”

I opened the fridge just for something to do. He walked up behind me, close enough that I felt the heat of his chest against my back. He didn’t touch me. He just stood there.

“I’ve been thinking about you…” he said, voice low. “About how easy you opened for me. How you looked at me when I was inside you.”

I closed the fridge door slowly. “And?”

“And I want it again. But slower this time. I want to see what you look like when you’re not trying to be careful with me.”

I turned around. He was closer than I expected. The cigarette was gone. His eyes were darker than they had been in the daylight.

“You’re not a guest I have to handle gently,” I said.

Something sharp and pleased moved across his face.

“Good.”

He reached past me, opened the fridge again, took out a beer, and pressed it into my hand. Then he took one for himself, cracked it open, and drank while looking at me over the rim.

“Go shower,” he said. “I want you clean when I take my time with you.”

I did what he told me.

When I came out of the bathroom with a towel around my waist, Calum was already in my bedroom. He had stripped the bed down to the fitted sheet and turned on the small lamp on the nightstand. The rest of the room was dim. He was sitting on the edge of the mattress, still in the grey sweatpants, barefoot. His t-shirt was gone. His body was so different from before, so manly, so hard.

He looked at me for a long second, then nodded at the towel.

“Lose it.”

I let it drop.

Calum’s eyes moved over me without hurry. He didn’t smile. He just looked, the way a man looks at something he has already decided he’s going to take.

“Come here.”

I walked to him. He spread his knees and pulled me between them. His hands settled on the backs of my thighs, then slid up to my ass, squeezing once, hard enough to leave the shape of his fingers. He leaned in and dragged his mouth along the line of my hip, not quite kissing, just breathing against the skin.

“You’ve been hard for me since I got here,” he muttered. “I can tell. Even when you’re trying to act normal.”

I didn’t deny it.

He turned his face and bit the soft skin just above my cock, not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to make me jolt. Then he took me into his mouth without warning.

The heat of it pulled a sound out of my throat. Calum didn’t tease this time. He sucked me deep and steady, one hand wrapped around the base, the other gripping my ass to keep me exactly where he wanted. I buried my fingers in his longer hair and let my head fall back. The wet, filthy sound of his mouth filled the quiet room. Every time he took me all the way down I felt the soft scrape of his beard against my skin.

He pulled off with a wet sound and looked up at me, lips shiny.

“On the bed. Face down.”

I climbed onto the mattress. Calum stood, shoved his sweatpants down, and kicked them aside. His cock was already fully hard, thick, the head dark. He climbed up behind me, knelt between my legs, and pushed my thighs wider with his knees. 

He didn’t rush the preparation. He spat into his palm, rubbed it between my cheeks, then pushed two fingers inside me slowly, twisting, opening me while I breathed into the sheet. When he added a third I cursed. He only made a low sound of approval and kept working me open until I was pushing back onto his hand.

“That’s it,” he said. “Show me you want it.”

I did.

When he finally pulled his fingers out and lined himself up, the blunt head of his cock pressed against me for a long second. He didn’t push in right away. He just held there, one hand on the small of my back, feeling me try to push back onto him.

“Ask for it.”

My face burned. “Fuck me.”

“Louder.”

“Fuck me, dude.”

He pushed in.

The penetration forced a broken sound out of me. He sank deeper in one continuous thrust until his hips were flush against my ass. Then he stayed there, fully buried, breathing hard, both hands gripping my waist.

“Christ,” he muttered. “You’re so soft.”

He started moving.

Deep, deliberate strokes that dragged every inch of him in and out. The bed creaked under the force of it. I could feel the power in his body, the year of nothing turning into pure, focused need. He fucked me like he had all the time in the world and none of it at the same time.

“You feel that?” he said, voice rough. “That’s me taking what’s been in my head since the second you picked me up at the station.”

I moaned into the sheet. He shifted the angle and started hitting that spot inside me on every thrust. My cock dragged against the mattress, hard and leaking. Calum reached under me, wrapped a rough hand around it, and stroked in time with his hips.

“You’re gonna cum on my cock,” he ordered. “I want to feel it.”

I didn’t last long after that. A few more deep strokes and I came hard, spilling over his fist and onto the sheet. The way I clenched around him pulled a low, vicious sound out of Calum’s throat. He fucked me through it, harder now, less controlled, until he buried himself to the hilt and came with a broken groan, flooding me in thick pulses.

He stayed inside me afterward, chest pressed to my back, both of us shaking. His mouth was against the side of my neck, open, breathing hard. One of his hands was still under me, sticky with my release.

After a long time he eased out. I felt his cum start to leak down my thigh. He watched it for a second, then rolled me onto my side and pulled me back against his chest.

Neither of us spoke for a while.

Eventually Calum’s voice came out low against my hair.

“I’m not going to be able to pretend this is just gratitude.”

“I know.”

“I’m not good at careful, Ash. Not after a year of that place. If we keep going, I’m going to get possessive. I’m going to want you every day. I’m going to hate the idea of anyone else touching you.”

I turned my head just enough to look at him over my shoulder.

“Then be possessive.”

Something dark and relieved moved through his eyes. He leaned in and kissed me, slower this time, almost careful, like he was sealing something.

Outside, the city kept moving.

Inside my bedroom, the sheets were wrecked, the air thick with sex, and the six months ahead of us suddenly felt like both a sentence and a promise.