Free A Boy Called Cin by Cecil Wilde Page B

him. That's something to worry about later, though.
    "At some point in the future, I'd like you on your hands and knees under me," Cin drawls. "Kinda want to make you cry again. In a good way."
    Tom's stomach flips over at the idea, but also in a good way. "Yeah. Probably after I can sit down again, though."
    "Mmm," Cin agrees, and then shuffles closer to curl up against Tom's chest. "You don't need to sit right now. You can keep lying down. I'll get you some cold cream when I'm awake. It'll help and it won't hurt going on."
    "Cuddling helps too." Tom puts an arm around Cin's shoulder. "I can see why you like having stuff up your butt so much, by the way. I mean, I'm complaining now, but I had something like four orgasms last night and that's not something to be sneezed at."
    "What does that even mean; not to be sneezed at?" Cin asks sleepily.
    "I got no idea. I'll look it up later. It's not just my ass, you know. It's basically everything between my waist and my knees."
    "Probably because we had you practically folded in half." Cin yawns. "You're surprisingly flexible."
    "Clearly not that flexible." Tom huffs a laugh. It is surprising, the things he finds himself managing to do for Cin. Like his first attempt at licking someone's butt, for example. Which was honestly nothing like he'd imagined, but he still wouldn't do it for anyone else.
    "Well, if it helps, I got off on you getting off."
    "That does help." Tom reaches out to run his fingers through Cin's hair. Cin makes a happy noise and snuggles closer, which does more to take Tom's mind off his discomfort than any cream would have a hope of doing. "Can I assume you were showing me what you like?"
    "I'm happy enough topping, but when I do bottom, I like to go all out. From behind, hair pulling, shoulder biting. Maybe being pulled up into your lap and just held there. I mean, I also like being on top. It's probably fair to say that as long as I get off, I'm having a good time."
    Tom grunts in acknowledgement as his stomach sinks. He knows that Cin isn't implying that he's not enough for him, but it'd be nice to be able to just give him that without freaking out over it. Regardless of everything Cin's said about it not being important and him being happy to work with whatever makes Tom comfortable, he still wishes they didn't have to work around him. At least, as much as they do.
    "Hey." Cin opens his eyes again and looks up at Tom, obviously concerned. "I forget you can't see the inside of my head when I say things and I realize what that sounded like to you now. I love your hands and your mouth and rubbing off against your thigh. I want you with two or three fingers inside me. That's all."
    "Yeah?" Tom's not happy about the way his voice breaks, but he doesn't try to cover it. He's allowed to be vulnerable around Cin, and that's a gift he wants to take advantage of right now.
    "Yeah." Cin leans in to kiss him. "Seriously. Your butt is your best feature. Everything else is a bonus. I'd stick around if you were just a floating butt."
    "That's…" Tom frowns. Cin's obviously joking, but it does make him feel better. "Physically impossible, but sweet. I would still like to be able to fuck you properly."
    "There is no properly," Cin says, deadpan. It's his 'you're being narrow-minded' tone, which he uses less and less around Tom as Tom stops saying stupid things.
    "You know what I mean. With my dick. Maybe we could work up to it. Maybe it's a permit-holder's zone."
    "Without telling you what you can and can't do with your own penis, maybe isn't enough. I'm not refusing, right? But I don't want you to have to work up to it. I want you to trust yourself and I don't want you to feel like you need to do anything you're not comfortable with. Ever."
    "But—"
    Cin puts a finger to Tom's lips to stop him talking. It's probably for the best, because now that he's escaped having to let people touch him in places he doesn't want to be touched, the thought of going back to it turns his