Safe Place

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” 

Ethan shakes his head, sighing through his nose with a hint of frustration. I’ve asked at least three times in the last hour alone, maybe I’m getting annoying. But I feel bad—he’s been in my house, waiting for my eternally late brother, who just sent another text saying he’ll be at least another hour. 

“Really,” Ethan assures me. “I’m okay.” 

I sit down next to him on the couch, keeping a bit of distance between us. We’ve been flirting for weeks, ever since he got back from university. At first I had thought I was imagining it, my feelings for him. 

I’d grown up around him, his humor and sarcasm a major part of my childhood. Now, those feelings of friendship and security had transferred to something different. Something tugging at me. 

Twice in the last month, I’d found myself dreaming of him, his familiar eyes filled with the same desire as mine. In my dreams, we fuck until we’re breathless and incoherent. I try not to think of those dreams now, with him so close to me.

Ethan was an awkward, lanky kid, but something changed when he went away for a year. He wasn’t shy anymore, nor too skinny. Wearing a loose-fitting shirt, I could see his bicep muscles working against the soft material. I spotted a tattoo on his ribs, peeking out when he raised his arms in exasperation. He had let his brown hair grow out a bit, and now it was curly and brushing against his shoulders. His sense of humor had transferred into confidence and even a bit of male arrogance. He was still the kind boy I had grown up with, but now in the body of a sexy, swaggering man. I thought of the times he had defended me from bullies as a kid, and it made me want to give him control over me. 

Just as Ethan had grown out of his unwieldy nature, I felt mine had doubled—almost like he’d given all of his awkwardness to me. I never knew how to ask for what I wanted, how to stare a man in the eyes and give myself to him. I wanted to be the kind of powerful woman that lay on the bed naked, save for a pair of high heels, and demanded pleasure. I was hyper-independent, I made all my own money and worked for everything I owned. But when it came to my sexual desires…it felt too dangerous, for some reason, to ask for what I wanted.

“I know you’re okay.” I smile. “I just feel bad that you have to wait.” 

His brown eyes lit up a bit. “There are worse people to wait with.” 

“Was that a compliment?” I open my mouth and bring a hand to my chest in mock surprise. “University has made you soft.” 

I expect him to laugh, but he shoots me a smile that makes my stomach clench. The look on his face…I’ve seen that look on men’s faces before. He’s had that look on his face in my dreams. 

“I think you like this version of me,” Ethan says, poking me on the shoulder. 

“I’ve liked every version of you,” I admit. It’s the truth. 

I wonder if I’ve said too much and rush to correct myself. He probably has plenty of women around to fulfill his sexual desires, and I can’t imagine that I’m at the top of that list. I’m pretty—blonde hair, straight teeth, full lips. But I’ve always had chubby cheeks, a bit of acne, the kind of muscles that could scare boys off. I’ve found ways to be at peace with my body, for the most part. I wonder what he thinks of me—am I still a little girl in his eyes?

“I mean, as my brother’s friend,” I correct myself. “And as my friend. You’re a good friend.” 

Something shifts in his face as he realizes my feelings. His smile sends butterflies through my whole body. 

“Friends,” Ethan says, that cocky grin suggesting something very different—You don’t want to be friends. 

“Friends.” I repeat, but I’m breathless staring into his eyes. My entire body feels like it’s on fire, and we haven’t even touched. 

More, more, more, my body screams.

His gaze drips down my body, studying everything from the curve of my face to the dips in my waist, the brown of his hazel eyes darkening as they take in the peak of my nipples through my shirt. I realize I’ve forgotten to put on a bra and I suddenly feel exposed. But the thought of him enjoying what he sees sends a fresh wave of lust through me. 

“So,” I say quietly, finding words difficult all of a sudden, “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” 

He laughs, the sound skittering along my bones. It’s the soundtrack of my teenage summer nights, the song of my youth. I start to get up to ease the tension.

"There is actually something I want," he says, pivoting so that he’s facing me. My whole body reacts to the look in his eyes. I go completely still. 

“Anything you want,” I try to say it with swagger, but it comes out completely breathless. Ethan lets that hang in the air for a moment. Anything you want. He lets the anticipation pool in my gut, electricity humming in my blood. I can feel every place my body is touching the couch. I can sense just how far away Ethan’s body is from mine, how many seconds it would take to close the gap between us. 

“Come here,” he says at last. He knows me well enough to know I’d never make the first move. 

I inch towards him on the couch, his legs spread in that way that seems like a male challenge when it's done in public, but now feels like a warm, heat-filled invitation. He grabs the front of my shirt with two fingers leading me until I'm straddling him, the warmth of his body snaking up mine in a thousand fire-laced jolts. 

He wastes no time—one hand finds my ass and gives it a sharp smack, the other pulls my chin close until his lips meet mine; the kiss isn't searching or gentle. It's a kiss that claims me. I moan softly into his caress as his mouth opens and his tongue sweeps across mine.

My hands find his strong shoulders, I love the way the muscles there meet his neck. He's so strong—somehow, even right now when I have no idea what I’m doing, I feel safe. I know he cares about me, I know he wants to protect me. Our trust runs deep.

“You have no idea,” Ethan growls along my skin, “how long I’ve wanted to do this.” At those words, he lifts his hips to find mine, and I can feel his length, already hard, straining against his pants. His cock brushes between my legs exactly where I want him. A whisper of a touch and I'm his completely, my pussy desperate and aching. More, more, more, my body begs. “How long I’ve wanted your pretty fucking lips on mine.”

He tugs my hair hard enough to cause me a little bit of pain, exposing my neck to kiss the soft spot behind my ear. I audibly groan. 

I need more. I cup him through his pants, desperate to feel his cock anywhere near me—in my mouth, my pussy, anywhere and everywhere. I need him. He laughs against my neck, the sound soft and arrogant, brushing along my bones. 

"Good girls say please." 

I don't hesitate. "Please.”

"You want this?" My brother’s friend asks, lifting his hips so that there's friction on my clit, enough to send a wave of pleasure through my whole body.

He lowers himself too quickly and I whimper in protest. It is pathetic how bad I want him—I'm willing to degrade myself for the pleasure of touching him. He lets go of my hair so that I can look into his face again and the second our eyes meet, I know the answer is yes. 

Ethan doesn't tell me what he wants me to do, he just does it. I'm being shoved off of him, onto the floor in front of him on my knees. I reached frantically for the pants that are already half-off his body, his cock hard and ready for me. I take a second to admire him—he’s absolutely massive—then I take him in my mouth quickly, licking up from the base to the tip. 

“Jesus.” He says. “You’re amazing.”

I lean into the heat that spreads in my chest at his words. When his eyes find mine, I know that me being his friend’s younger sister is the last thing on his mind. It only adds to my enthusiasm.

I spit on my hand and use that to help me. I try to figure out what he likes; I hollow out my cheeks and use my tongue to scrape along the sensitive underside of his cock. His hips shudder. 

“Do you like it like this?” I ask as I tighten my grip on his shaft with my hand. Ethan pants, one of his hands trembling, as if he’s putting himself on a leash, like he doesn’t want to hurt me. It’s my turn for a cocky grin as he moans, "That's so good, just like that." 

Before I know it, I'm being pulled off of him—thrown to the ground on all fours so that all I can see is the carpet beneath me—and then my leggings are roughly pulled off of me in one swoop. He lands a sharp smack on my substantial ass before whispering in my ear, “You are the hottest girl I’ve ever seen.” 

He pulls my panties aside to slip a finger inside of me, stroking a spot that has me losing my mind, has me crying his name, begging for more. Without warning or pretense, he stops. I whimper in protest.

“I’ve wanted to do that,” he whispers in my ear, “for a long time.” 

He brings his fingers to his lips, and sucks on them. Tasting me. 

“But I’ve wanted to do that for even longer.” He says. 

I’m going to burst into flames, I decide then. 

More, more, more my body agrees. 

Ethan picks me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me with little effort. He knows the route to my bedroom—as if he’s thought about this a hundred times, and knows the quickest possible path.

Even while he grabs my hair roughly, I'm placed onto my bed with heartbreaking gentleness. His smell overwhelms me, a sweet smell that finds me even when I'm not with him. I smell it on the train, in my car, at my place of work. The feeling of him haunts my day. 

I take off my own shirt, and he growls in approval at my bare breasts, my nipples hardening against the cold air. He takes one in his mouth, his teeth grazing softly along my nipple, which has a direct line to my clit. I whimper, my hands in his hair. 

With seemingly great effort, he pulls himself away from me to take off his shirt, and I realize I was right about the tattoo. 

“What does that mean?” I ask, my hands brushing along the fresh ink.

“I’m naked, and you want to know about my tattoo.” 

I nod. “Priorities.” 

Ethan shrugs, beginning to kiss me at the base of my ear and moving slowly downwards. I shiver. 

“It’s a bird.” He murmurs against my skin, pressing his lips into my sternum. I nod, trying to follow his story. 

“My favorite bird.” His lips brush softly, too softly, right above my pubic bone. I try not to moan, trying to deny him the satisfaction. 

“Do you like it?” My brother’s friend asks, and I know the question isn’t just about his tattoo. 

“I like it.” 

“I’m not too sure you do.” He says, his breath brushing against my clit in a way that makes me see red. 

“Please.” I nearly gasp out. “I want you. Please.” 

With that, he settles triumphantly between my legs, his weight a comforting presence on top of me. He takes a moment to grab himself, positioning his cock between my legs and pausing at my entrance. 

"Please." I beg again, finding those hazel eyes already looking at me with a challenge. He smiles a cruel, arrogant grin. 

"I'll do whatever I want." 

"Please." My words are incoherent. They aren't sensical; the feeling of him is driving me wild, I've lost my mind and the only thing that can put me back together is him, the feeling of him, I need it, more more more. 

He slides into me—he hits every nerve in my body, lighting me on fire from the inside out. I splinter and fracture around his length, my mind melting from the heat of his body on mine, the pure pleasure of being with him. "You feel," Ethan says softly into my ear in between his slow, consistent strokes, "So. Fucking. Good." 

He pulls out all the way to the tip and enters me deeply, and I can't get enough of him, my hands trailing on his back, his shoulders, his ass. I need more of him—I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer to me. 

The change in angle helps the pressure of release build on my spine, and a whimper escapes my lips. I'm close, so close. More, more, more, my whole existence begs, a feeling confirmed and found, a feeling desperate and primal, the most natural thing in the whole world. 

Nothing exists beyond this exact moment, nothing matters besides the way he feels right now. The heat, the pressure. Sensations that make me feel whole, taken care of, safe. Sex with him is my safe place. 

"You're mine." He says, and it's my undoing. Release barrels down my whole body and I cry out—he grabs my neck and says it again, reminds me of it as my inner muscles clench around him, tight, and he groans into my ear, the sound of his pleasure bringing my body back to itself. 

He stills inside of me for a moment, unmoving. We stay in each other’s arms, waiting for the world to start moving again. 

Finally, he pulls back to look at me in the face. I study the features I’ve known forever—those eyes comforted me when I fell off my bike. Those lips made me laugh countless times. The small scar on his eyebrow is from the time he got in a fight to protect me. “What are you thinking?” He asks, trying to unravel the secrets in my face. I kiss him softly. “I’m thinking my brother should be late more often.” 

I know his echoing laughter will sound in my ears tomorrow, but for now I just pull him a bit closer.

Photo by Cottonbros