Where He Belongs

The air inside the changing stall was thick with sun-warmed humidity. Riley stepped in after Chase, following his lead, his bare feet padding softly against the cool, tiled floor. The space was small, barely wide enough for two people to stand comfortably, but the pair pressed in without hesitation. The door clicked shut behind them.

Riley's heart thudded like a drum in his chest.

He could hear the roar of the ocean, the cries of seagulls outside—but in here, it felt like they were sealed in a secret world. Chase leaned back against the wooden wall, giving as much space for Riley as possible, looking down at him with eyes half-shielded by dark lashes, his broad chest rising and falling with quiet tension.

Riley glanced up at him, searching his expression.

Was he okay? Riley had seen the engorged penis through Chase's trucks, an obvious sign that the big man was unbalanced, in need of attention. In need of focus. This was the perfect time to put Isabelle's coaching and all that practice to use.

Riley bit his glossy lip. His fingers curled slightly at his sides. Part of him wanted to ask if Chase wanted to talk, but something deeper inside—something wordless and intuitive—told him this wasn't about talking. He knew that he had the tools to help, to take care of Chase's needs. Besides, they'd been talking all day. Riley knew that seeing Chase's penis close up would be far better for developing a sense of closeness. It was about listening, but not with his ears, but with his body. Understanding his needs without needing to be told.

That's what a girlfriend was supposed to do, wasn't it?

A shiver of warmth rolled through Riley as he knelt slowly, the tile cool under his knees. The act itself felt natural now. Comfortable, even. It wasn't submission—it was connection. His gaze rose to Chase's face, trying to read him again. There was a sharpness in Chase's jawline now, like he was clenching it. Like he was trying very hard to hold himself back.

Riley's exhaled slowly as he brought his hand up and held Chase's penis through the silky fabric. It was hot and firm. Riley could not have felt happier.

Tilting his head, nuzzling softly against Chase's thigh through his swim trunks, Riley smiled. The fabric was sun-warm and damp, but the muscle beneath was solid and real. So strong. Riley let his cheek rest there, his eyes fluttering closed, breathing in deeply, hand gently massaging the firmness. There was something comforting in the scent—like salt and skin and sun, all mixed with something uniquely Chase.

His lips parted slightly in wonder.

This… this was where he belonged. Not just physically, but emotionally. He had no doubt. If Chase needed anything—anything at all—Riley would find a way to give it to him. He would learn. He would practice. He would become.

Even if he didn't always understand what he was supposed to do… that was okay. He trusted Isabelle, and he trusted himself. And if there were new ways to help Chase… new ways to support him, center him, ease him…

Then Riley would figure those out too.

He could feel Chase's thigh tighten slightly beneath him, an indication that it was time for Riley to put his practice to work. Gently releasing Chase's penis, Riley grasped the big man's trunks and slowly pulled them down. And then he saw it.

Chase's penis.

It was beautiful.

A wash of emotion threatened to drown him. Closeness. Intimacy. Joy. How could such a beautiful thing have been hidden in Chase's clothes this whole time? How could Riley have gone so long without seeing it? How many wasted opportunities?

Riley's breath quickened as he whispered softly in his thoughts—not words meant to be said aloud, but promises forming in his heart:

I'll get better. I'll learn what you like. I'll become exactly what you need me to be.

The silence in the changing stall was almost reverent. Riley nuzzled a little closer, eyes half-lidded, face flushed but full of purpose, and brought his lips to the exquisite appendage. It was like he was back in his first practice video, the trainer fixed to his desk before him, his nerves dancing in his stomach as he worried that he was doing it wrong.

Chase's hand hovered at the back of Riley's head, fingers brushing lightly against his hair, then softly pushed him in. Closer. Deeper.

It was all the encouragement that Riley needed.

Riley closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and took it in.

It was a dream come true. Kissing Chase. Helping him meditate. It felt exponentially better than doing it separately. He took Chase's cock in deeply, lovingly, his tongue wrapped around it, sucking, mewling, **** for more. Isabelle had been right. This wasn't something he would have been prepared for without practice. All those hours, perfecting his technique, being coached by his generous audience, learning to lose his gag reflect, all were paying off.

Looking up, Riley did his best to lock eyes with Chase, gauge how his future boyfriend was enjoying the kiss/meditation combination. It was difficult with his head moving up and down as it was, but Riley wanted to be the best he could be, so he tried. Yes, Chase's hands were now wrapped in Riley's hair, holding him tight, helping the smaller man with the rhythm needed to properly meditate, so that was a sign that it was working, but Riley wanted to make sure.

But he didn't need to wait long. Soon Riley got all the feedback he needed.

Just like when Riley meditated himself, usually thinking about Chase's cock, Chase began to erupt, discharging his stress, his tension, his worries, all into Riley's mouth. All those times that Riley had done it in the bathroom, or even the time that Riley had meditated Chase in the movie theatre, he'd never tasted it before. It was disgusting. But it was also wonderful. Not because of the flavour, but because of what it meant. He had proven to himself that he could understand what Chase needed, and that he was the man to take care of it.

He was exactly where he wanted to be.

And flavour or not, Riley would be back on his knees in a hot flash to do it again. Because that's what a good girlfriend would do.