had been viciously ruined by Eric’s meltdown, they had agreed there was a place in their lives for things like that. And he also knew Simon meant every word.
‘Fuck me. Fuck me, please.’ Rocco’s shaking hands were not an affect for the video. He was goddamn desperate.
Simon didn’t need more coaxing. The condom was on, he was slick with lube, and he used one hand to push Rocco’s leg up toward his chest. The perfect view for the camera, and the perfect angle to take every inch of Simon in one, slow thrust.
Rocco felt mad with desire, every fiber of his being on edge, primed and poised to lose total control. He had no restraint—none. He was gone over Simon—had been from the first moment he watched his soft, careful hands sign out their sympathy.
Now those hands were his.
Rocco felt himself groan as Simon pushed all the way in. He angled himself so the camera could keep the shot, but it was enough to send Simon’s dick grazing his prostate, and a sharp, “Oh,” ripped from his throat.
His dick gave a vicious throb, and he sat up halfway on his elbows. He had to see Simon, to look him in the eye, to be as close as they could get. The movement had Simon lurching forward, their chests pressed together. He sank deeper, fucked him harder, hips slapping against Rocco’s ass.
His orgasm was cresting from the barely there pressure of Simon’s stomach against his cock. “God,” he whispered, the word jagged in his throat. “God.”
Simon squeezed his eyes shut, his dick pulsing, thickening further.
It was enough, god, it was enough.
Rocco fell back with a heavy shout, his upper body curving toward the ceiling as he spilled all over himself.
Untouched.
He rode the waves of pleasure as Simon thrusts stuttered, and he rolled his hips as he chased the last bits of pleasure. When Rocco was brave enough to open his eyes again, he found Simon staring down at the mess on Rocco’s stomach, eyes wide with wonder at the sight of it.
‘From me,’ he signed with one unsteady hand.
Rocco nodded, then pulled Simon’s fingers to his mouth and kissed the pads of each one. ‘From you. For you. I love you.’
Simon’s fingers curled into the shape, then he pressed them against Rocco’s heart. ‘I love you too.’
‘Precious,’ Rocco added—letting the word take on every meaning. Cherished, important, beloved—Simon.
Their gazes settled together, gentle and never breaking, and Rocco knew that no matter where they went from this moment on, he was home.
Simon checked his watch, staring across the Market pathway at the slick grass and puddles littering the sidewalks. The air was rich with the scent of ozone from the rain, but growing hotter and more humid every minute after the storm had passed.
It was a typical July, though it felt like anything but. He had a meeting in twenty minutes to meet the guy who was going to lease the Chametz building—a favor to Gwen, the realtor, who was in a parent teacher conference. In all honesty, Simon didn’t mind. Where he would have once shrunk back at the idea of socializing with a stranger and involving himself in business like this, with the apartment, with the bakery—he wanted to know that it was going to be as loved and cherished as it had been over the last nearly thirty years.
The decision had been made months ago, long before Rocco even set foot in their little town, but this felt final. Signing an agreement to lease the place out felt like a bookend, even if there was still more room on the shelf. He and Levi would make a little money off it, though, which would help Levi’s business, and it would ease Simon’s conscious knowing that he wasn’t staying.
Because he wasn’t.
When Rocco suggested he re-apply to UCLA, Simon had laughed at him, then kissed him for being sweet and thoughtful. But Rocco hadn’t been joking. ‘You have one semester to finish, all your credits are there. You left on good terms due to a family tragedy. It can’t hurt to try, can it?’
The cost of an application fee and the weeks of anxiety that followed were the highest price he had to pay, but Rocco was very good at distracting him.
Simon had tried to forget, losing himself in the last weeks of being able to bake in that kitchen, the last weeks of setting up the Market stall and actually mingling with neighbors. He never did take Ronan and Parker