Page 114 of Twisted Needs

“Jerk,” I mutter, shaking my head.

“Clean it off,” Parker whispers, swiping his cum-drenched fingers over my lips. My tongue darts out, swiping from one side to the other. His saltiness dances on my tastebuds, my mouth automatically trying to memorize the taste of him.

I roll off him, but Parker pulls me down to his chest, closing me in. He squeezes me tightly and playfully growls. Our legs intertwine, mine brushing over his. “I’m sorry it hurt. I should’ve bought lube.”

“Not like you had much notice.”

Parker presses his lips against the top of my head, deeply inhaling my scent. My breathing slows as I close my eyes and sink my face into the nape of his neck. His heart beats loudly in sync with mine. I rest my palm on his chest to feel the movement of his lungs.

“I will order a lifetime supply of lube,” Parker whispers. “On Amazon. It’ll get here between four and ten A.M., so don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, baby.”

I immediately snort. “You’re insane.”

“As an unlicensed clinical professional—completely sane.”

“Is there like a tiny worm in your brain that tells you which heinous things to say?” I laugh. “Like…RFK Jr.?”

He gives me a look, and I know immediately what’s coming. “I’m gonna do the voice⁠—”

I roll my eyes. “You’re not gonna do the voice, Petchka. Leave the man alone. He’s already got worms in his brain telling him about the dangers of Tylenol.”

“And to think you’ve called me a Republican…” He flicks the tip of my nose. “Twice. My sexy little Liberal.”

I tilt my head up and playfully bite his chin before ambushing him with a peck on the cheek.

“Mm. That’s not a denial.”

“You have very questionable political views,” I murmur, fully pressing my mouth against his cheek this time. His beard prickles my lips, and I let out a little scoff. “You know—I’m good with a razor…”

“No,” he whispers slowly, hiding a grin. “Because I know exactly what you’re gonna do⁠—”

“No you⁠—”

“You’re gonna give me a 1970s pornstache⁠—”

I huff. “But it would look so good,” I pout, slapping my palms against his cheeks. “So…beekeeping age.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

I settle against his chest. When I close my eyes, it feels like the room is spinning. My naked body fully pressed to his for the first time. Our hearts are beating the same groove…I don’t think there’s ever been a moment where I’ve felt more sated.

“Anders,” Parker murmurs softly, swiping his thumb across my cheek.

“Hm.”

There’s a moment of hesitation before he clears his throat. “Am I your Frankenstein?”

“What?” At first, I assume he’s joking. I snort against his chest, but Parker doesn’t laugh. His thumb stills against my cheek.

“Am I your Frankenstein?” he asks again, softer.

“I—” I swallow. My stomach drops a little. It’s probably the heaviest thing he’s ever asked me. He’s been holding onto this since last night. All day, he’s probably been asking himself this very question. “I don’t know,” I admit quietly. “No.” I choose my next words carefully—honest, but careful. “I mean…sometimes it feels like you helped raise me.”

His face hardens introspectively. He presses his lips into a straight line, slowly nodding, and tightens his jaw. “Yeah,” is all he says. “I know.”

When he pulls his hand away, I immediately grab it and put it back on my cheek. “You don’t have to do the thing,” I tell him. “You don’t have to dig through your memories and question yourself…it’s okay to be two things at once.”

“No, it’s not.” He shakes his head. “Because every time I look back on it, I keep wondering where the line was.” His voice goes rough. “When I…stopped looking at you like a kid and started thinking I could have something more.”