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“Ryan. I think I’m going to come.”

“Good. I want to feel your pussy clenching round my cock. Let yourself go.”

So I do, and it takes me over completely. Soon I’m gasping, crying out into the duvet, clenching round him exactly like he asked.

Behind me, Ryan drives into me harder now, once, twice, three times, then suddenly he goes still, buried deep. His penis twitches inside me as he comes.

“Fuck, flower girl,” he gasps.

He stays there a moment, his forehead resting between my shoulder blades, both of us breathing hard. Then he eases out of me slowly and collapses onto the bed beside me.

I pull the pillow out from under my hips and roll onto my back.

Well.

We lie there a minute or two, catching our breaths, then Ryan deals with the condom, using tissues from the box on my bedside table. Afterwards, he flops back down next to me, one arm flung above his head, eyes half closed. He looks absolutely wrecked.

I, on the other hand, feel wonderful. Loose and light and glowing. And bold. Very bold.

I prop myself up on one elbow and look at him. My boyfriend. I’ve seen his body before, of course, but there’s a difference between seeing it in the heat of the moment and getting to study it at my leisure while he lies there, spent.

I start at the top, running my hand over his head, back and forth. The buzz cut is soft one way and bristly the other.

“Have you ever thought about growing it longer?” I ask.

“Naw.” He doesn’t open his eyes. “Hair’s something to grab. Why give the other guy something to hold on to?”

How very practical.

I move on to his ears. I trace the rim of one with my fingertip, where the top has started to thicken.

“You know, I always thought these were cute.”

His eyes open, and he looks at me like I’ve said something in a foreign language. “Cute?”

“Yes. Cute.”

“Naebody’s ever called them that before.”

“Well, I am. What causes it anyway?”

“Grappling. Your ears get rubbed and crushed against the mats, or some guy’s arm, or his head. The blood pools under the skin. If you don’t get it drained, it hardens.”

“Oh.” I touch his ear again, more gently this time. “Well, I still think they’re cute.”

He snorts, but he doesn’t stop me.

My hand goes lower. Over his shoulders, which are so broad it’s frankly ridiculous. Across his chest. Down his stomach, warm beneath my palm. I follow the trail of hair below his belly button to his penis.

What can I say? He’s my boyfriend now, and I’m taking inventory. It would be a strange inventory that skipped the most interesting item.

Sitting up, I take hold of it. It’s soft now, or at least mostly soft, and very warm. It doesn’t react in the slightest to my touch. Ryan just lies there, watching me with lazy amusement, apparently happy to let me do whatever I like.

“You know,” I observe, quite matter-of-factly, “it’s not nearly as intimidating when it’s like this.”

Holding it by the base, I give it a waggle. It flops from side to side, and I can’t help but giggle. “Yeah. Hard to believe I was scared of you,” I say, addressing it directly.

Ryan lets out a sleepy laugh and catches my wrist. “Right, flower girl. How about we give my cock a wee break, eh?”