(16) I Swear I’m Not a Dead Fish

NOTE: There is explicit SMUT in this chapter. Almost exclusively smut. This is basically a fanservice chapter.

It’s been a few days since Christmas. We’ve talked every day since — calls, texts, stupid memes, the usual. But today’s different.

Mom and Patrick are visiting my stepbrother at his university, which means I get the house to myself. Which means Jaron is coming over.

We’ve been circling this for a while. We both know it. I don’t know what’s supposed to come next after the part where someone becomes your boyfriend and says sweet things to you on FaceTime, but apparently, it’s this.

So yeah. I prepped. I read articles. I watched things. I made sure I wouldn’t be clueless.

Not that I would ever tell him how ignorant I was about any of this because he was a but more experienced than myself. When he gets here, I awkwardly offer him water. He sips from his cup. He also looks awkward. We both know what we’re doing today, so I don’t see any point in delaying it. I tug his hand towards my bedroom. “C’mon. Let’s start. I’m ready.”

He looks surprised. “No romance first?”

“Do you want romance? I can light a candle.” I’d have to find one first. I don’t know where mom keeps her candles.

He smiles, setting his cup down and curling an arm around my waist as I bring him up the stairs and into my bedroom. He undresses first, slowly like he knows he’s hot and wants to put on a show. “You could be a stripper,” I say. "You're good at that.”

He snorts, laughs, then covers his mouth and shyly looks down.

“Oh you’re shy now,” I mutter. “After getting naked.”

He just shakes his head, kicks his pants out of his way and comes over to me. He takes his time undressing me too, kissing each part of my skin before peeling away the next piece of cloth. Not rushed or hungry. Romantic.

Should I give him a blowjob first? I wasn’t so sure I wanted that in my mouth…but maybe it wasn’t fair because he’d given me a blowjob before. My jaw feels tense just thinking about it. I glance at him, then away. I should want to return the favor, right?

He kisses me, gently pushing me onto my back. One hand cups my face. The other lingers low on my hip, his fingers just barely brushing my entrance, light as feathers. Normally, I might be stiff. Or snapping at him. But with him I just lie there, breathing, letting him touch me. He was very good at making me feel comfortable. After a moment, he squeezes lube onto me. The cold slickness makes me flinch before his finger even moves. Then it’s inside—slow, deliberate.

My fingers dig into his shoulders, and I feel the solid muscle tense under my grip.

“Is that okay?” he murmurs.

“N-No. Wait. I want to do that myself.”

He pulls his fingers out. “Okay.” He smiles and stays close, above me, chest warm against mine, his lips brushing mine. It’s not very comfortable to reach down there like this, so I shift onto my stomach instead, pressing my cheek into the pillow, half-hiding my face. He shifts with me, keeping one hand resting lightly on my back.

I press one finger in, then a second. I did this when I was cleaning it, so it’s okay. Kind of familiar, I guess. IIt’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s not bad. Just pressure. Stretch. A weird ache that fades as I keep going with a third finger. His arm rests warm and solid around my waist. The sound of the condom wrapper crackling is louder than it should be. My heart’s thudding hard. “Think I’m ready,” I mutter, not turning around.

He kisses the back of my neck, my shoulders, my spine. Each kiss leaves a warm spot that lingers even after his lips move on. I shiver, more from nerves than cold.

“Okay,” he murmurs again.

“Slowly,” I say, “It’s my first time.” My voice sounds smaller than I meant it to. I hate that.

He kisses my tailbone. “I’ll be gentle.” He presses his tip to my entrance, and slowly pushes in. Almost agonizingly slowly, to the point I want him to just fucking do it. The pressure builds with every inch. It’s too much and not enough all at once. I grit my teeth. Stop being a baby. Just let it happen.

When his tip enters me, I gasp. But not in pleasure. It burns. Not sharp either, just…wrong. My whole body goes tense. Am I doing this wrong? Or is this just what it’s supposed to feel like the first time? It doesn’t feel good at all. It hurts. I’d heard a little pain was normal. I let him go a little deeper, biting back a groan.

Then I shove at his chest with both hands, squirming out from under him. “Stop!” I bark, harsher than I mean to. “Ugh, it hurts!”

He falls back, looking confused. “I’m sorry.”

We stare at eachother, and I pull the blanket up to cover me. I feel embarrassed though I know technically I shouldn’t be.

“What do you want to do?” he asks.

“I could give you a blowjob,” I suggest, since I don’t want him to be disappointed.

He considers it. “Can I try?”

“Try what?”

“With my fingers,” he says. “But only if you want.”

“Yes but you should use more lube.”

“Of course,” he says.

I lie on my stomach again. This time, he squeezes out what looks like half the bottle. “You’re going to finish that all today,” I say.

“Better than you being in pain.”

His fingers slide in smoothly this time, helped by the lube and the space I made earlier. I bury my face in the pillow it doesn’t hurt this time. He curls them, slow and careful. Spreads them apart, just a little. Tries again. It feels like something is supposed to happen, but doesn’t. Just…nothing. I shift. Still nothing.

This didn’t feel very sexy. Was I messing it up for him? I peek at him. Well he’s still hard, so maybe not.

After a moment, I shudder when his finger touches…somewhere. It feels like a spark of heat and pressure. I gasp, my hips twitching without permission. It was most definitely pleasure this time. “F-Fuck…”

His fingers vanish. “Did it hurt?”

“N-No. That was good. Do it again.”

He smiles. “Figured out what you like pretty quickly.”

“Do it again,” I demand. So of course he does. His fingers move with purpose now, coaxing that spark over and over until it spreads, heat racing up my spine, down my thighs. “Damnit, hhng—” I scrunch my eyes shut. “I’m ready now. Like, for your dick.”

Jaron laughs. His fingers curl around my throat, not squeezing, just resting there. He pushes his tip in slowly. It still hurts, but not like before. I can manage it this time. I breathe through it, gripping the sheets. Once he’s fully inside me, he leans over and kisses my forehead. I cover my forehead with my hand and glare. So he kisses my cheek which I also cover.

“Indra,” he says.

“What?” I snap.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Why do you keep asking that? I’m fine. Just thrust.”

He brushes my hair out of my eyes. I sort of wish I was on my back so I could see him, but I guess it’s too late to change now.

His hips roll forward gently. Barely moving at first. His eyes flick between my face and where we’re joined. When I don’t tell him to stop, he adjusts my hips, angling them upward, and suddenly, every thrust hits something different. Sparks light up low in my stomach again. My breath stutters. I grip the pillow tighter.

I can’t help the moan rips out of me without warning. He now sends waves of heat through me, not just where we touch, but everywhere. Under my skin, behind my ribs, curling around my spine. My thighs tremble. My whole body tightens around him.

His pace picks up, not fast, but steady now. Confident. Each movement grinds against that spot inside me like he’s aiming for it, like he knows what it does to me. I bite down on the pillow again, trying not to make a sound, and failing completely.

“Fuck,” I gasp. “Jaron, I—”

My thighs twitch again, legs shaking like I’ve been running, even though I haven’t moved. I’m burning up. There’s heat in my chest, behind my eyes, in my hands where I’ve clenched the sheets so hard I might rip them. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

His hand slips down under me, fingers curling around my erection. I arch into the touch like a reflex, like he owns the switch in my spine.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, voice rough and close behind me. “You’re taking me so well.”

“Shut up,” I groan, but I’m already gone.

He wraps one arm under my chest, pulling me up so my back’s against his chest. It changes the angle. His cock drags over that spot again, hard, relentless, and I cry out.

“Right there,” I pant. “Don’t stop.”

I’m flushed all over. My thighs are shaking. I feel him everywhere—his breath in my ear, his hand stroking me in rhythm, his mouth trailing desperate kisses down my neck. I’m falling apart and it’s humiliating how much I like it.

I twist to kiss him, sloppy and half-missed, but he catches my mouth and groans into it. His pace stutters—he’s close. I can feel it in the way his grip tightens, how his movements get sharper.

My body pulses with pleasure, chest heaving as it rushes up and crashes over me, messy and overwhelming. My vision goes blurry for a second. I’m still clenching around him, breath caught in my throat, when I feel him stutter behind me.

One, two more thrusts, and then he spills into me with a soft sound like a prayer. Jaron gasps, his rhythm faltering. “Indra—” he chokes out, and then he’s coming too, pushing in deep, burying his face in my shoulder. His whole body goes tense, and then softens against mine.

Isn’t it rare to release together like that? I guess we got lucky this time. Our first time.

He doesn’t move for a long moment. Just breathes. His chest is pressed to my back, heartbeat knocking against my shoulder blade. His arm wraps around my waist. His lips brush the nape of my neck, then my jaw, then that stupid place just under my ear that makes me shiver again even though I’m already wrung out.

I shift a little and wince.

My knees hurt. My face is hot and I don’t want to move too much because I know it’s going to feel weird when he pulls out. He doesn’t do it just yet though. “Are you just going to stay there?” I ask.

“Can I?”

“Yeah.”

He bites my neck. Not hard, but it startles me.

“Ow!” I shout, more in surprise than pain. “What the fuck?” Maybe I was right to think he was a vampire that first time he kissed me in the woods.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”

I don’t know how to deal with this idiot.

Eventually, he does pull out. Gently. He ties off the condom and tosses it somewhere, then lies down beside me, brushing sweaty curls off my face. “Are you okay?” he asks again, like a broken record.

I glare at him. “Stop asking me that.”

He flops onto his back and stares silently at the ceiling. “You’re never in a good mood huh?” He says, though he’s smiling. “Even after sex.”

I cover myself with the blanket, the part that isn’t wet, and don’t answer. His eyes begin to droop, and I am left alone with my thoughts.

My thoughts are not a good place to be.

Did he think I was a dead fish in bed?

I didn’t even do anything. I just lay there. But what exactly was I supposed to do anyway? Maybe if I’d been on my back, I could have hugged him or kissed him.

Maybe next time I’d top him. I didn’t want him to feel like he was doing all the work.

Did he even think I was sexy? I wasn’t lean like him. I wasn’t skinny in that specific, attractive way some lean guys are either. Would he prefer it if I…um, shaved down there? I saw him hesitating right before he touched me. Would he be mad if I never gave him a blowjob? Becuase I didn’t really want to.

Jaron’s arm snakes around my waist. His eyes are still closed.

I shove it off. “We have to change the sheets first.”

He groans. “I was hoping we could cuddle.”

I pull the blanket off him. “We have to change the sheets. Or the whole room will smell. I begin pulling the cloth out from under him.

He covers his face. “Indraaaa, just come here.” He holds out his arms. “We can crack a window.”

“No. We can cuddle after. And I need to clean myself up. You made me make a mess.”

He blinks. He turns pink, then reluctantly slides out of bed, and then his grin turns wicked. “Let’s shower together.”

“No!” I snap, even though I kind of want to.

He helps me quickly strip the sheets then dumps them in a pile on my floor. He comes up behind me, holds both my hands, and walks me to the bathroom. “Please?” he coos. “I’ll behave.” His eys glint in a way that suggest he won’t behave.

“Fine.” I drag him into the shower myself. When the water has run over both of us, he splashes warm water on the wall so it’s not cold and presses me against it. His fingers press against my entrance again. “Knew it,” I mutter. “Lecher.”

He only kisses my neck, then my jaw. “Hmm. You like it.”

I do. This bastard. I really do.