Ropes and Lace | MM Romance PREVIEW

Chapter 18 - Respect Me

"We need to talk."

I try not to let my face reveal how much his statement affected me, but I have a feeling Elliot deduced it anyway. To be honest, my reaction shouldn't come as a surprise, considering that throughout history it has been proven that the exact combination of those words can only mean one thing: heartbreak. Nevertheless, I take a deep breath and reiterate over and over in my mind that this doesn't have to be another tragic case to add to the infinite record of failures, especially if it's up to me to prevent it. I do my best to remain optimistic and, with a fortitude as thin and fragile as a blown glass sculpture, I guide him to the bed, where we sit with stiff, robotic movements.

"Did I do something wrong?" It's the first thing that comes to my mind to ask because I'd like to know so I have the choice to apologize and put this behind us. And also because it's a reflex action that my past experiences have instilled in me.

"No, Ashton. Please don't think that," Elliot hugs his stomach and winces, but I suspect it's not because of his condition, but because of the complex state we're in now. "I should've explained it differently, I've inadvertently complicated the situation," he adds, a strange mix of disappointment and frustration darkening his deep voice.

"What is it then?" I uneasily murmur, as I find it hard to comprehend his point.

"You want to touch me, don't you?" I frown, watching him as if he had suddenly grown another head, because that is such an absurd question.

"What do you mean? Of course, I want to touch you," my retort is saturated with steely conviction. Truth be told, I've been dreaming about it ever since I met him, ever since the moment he captured me in the unfathomable well of his crystalline, intimidating eyes.

"Shit, what the hell is wrong with me? My brain isn't working properly today. I'm fucking it all up!" He growls, indignant and miserable, scrubbing his face so roughly that his cheekbones and the tip of his nose turn red.

"Enough. Don't do that, Elliot. Stop," I hold his wrists to stop him from hurting himself further, and my heart skips a beat when I realize unshed tears are hanging from his eyelashes. I immediately worry, cold sweat sliding down my spine with a slowness that gives me goosebumps. "Don't despair and talk to me, honey," I tenderly encourage him, tracing soothing circles on his palms with my thumbs. "I'm sure we can reach some kind of agreement and..."

"I want to have sex with you," he sharply interrupts me, his back straight and scorching fire in his emerald gaze.

"Okay?" I ask when I actually intended to state, but all this unusual conversation has caused is for my confusion to increase with each passing second. "But we've already done it, haven't we?"

"No, not all the way," at my stunned expression, he furiously clarifies. "I want you to fuck me, or let me fuck you."

Oh.

Oh.

Saliva evaporates on my tongue, leaving my mouth drier than the Sahara Desert. My whole blood travels south, hardening my dick so fast that for a moment I feared I'd lose consciousness. My balls contract in repetitive spasms, announcing the imminent explosion of a powerful climax. It's such an abrupt and overwhelming overload of sensations that, when my reasoning is brought back into the equation, I realize that Elliot continued with his extensive, elaborate, and obscene description of longings... and pornographic positions.

"...our own Kamasutra; feeling you fill me until my belly bulges with the silhouette of your cock or being able to have the glorious sight of my cum spurting out of your..." I cover his thin lips with one of my fingers to curb his enthusiasm before I suffer a stroke. Elliot doesn't resist, and it appeases me when he finally smiles.