16. Hotaru
“Good morning,” Arlo whispers over my cheeks.
A smile tugs my lips before I even open my eyes.
Usually, he’s up and moving. Has had a shower or at least disappeared from my room, taking his blanket along with him. Now, his arm is under my neck, propping my head up with the help of my pillow. His other hand is firm on my hip.
I blink him into view, mussed hair, wide smile, and all.
“The best morning.” My fucking heart leaps and tosses confetti. The smile on my face grows tenfold. For the first time, I’m not afraid to scare him away because he let me touch him last night, and he’s touching me now. The slow caress of his fingertips is unadulterated bliss.
With two fingers, I reach up and shift the locks of hair off his forehead. “How are you feeling?”
He bites his lips, compressing his smile. His eyes glitter. A mix of curiosity, passion, and mischief shifts in them, creating a kaleidoscope of my favorite things.
I’ve seen so many sides of him, this openness he’s giving me, his happiness, is enough to shoot me into orbit. I never want to come crashing down. There’s no way I’d survive.
“You can tell me anything,” I remind him.
He nods, and suddenly, his teeth can’t contain his lips. They break free into a smirk. “I feel…hard.”
It’s a miracle I don’t swallow my tongue. The confetti in my chest turns into a pyrotechnic showcase. All of a sudden, I’m hot as hell. Hard as hell too. I want to roll him onto his back, worship every part of his body, and then suck him so well he forgets everything before us.
Caution is key. I know it.
Now I’m the one biting my lip, only it’s the bottom one and it’s meant to convey exactly how happy I am with his revelation, without throwing the covers back and showing him.
“That’s pretty standard for the morning.” I let my hand coast over his shoulder and down his arm that clings to my hip. “Is that why you usually rush out of here before I wake up?”
“Maybe.” He offers the most adorable grimace I’ve ever seen.
I hike a brow.
“Definitely.” His straight white teeth shine in the morning light.
“Have you taken care of yourself before last night?” I slide my hand to his and toy with his fingers on my skin. “With this hand right here?”
“No.”
I suck in a breath and let it out slowly. It almost turns into a moan. No, it definitely becomes a moan. A quiet one.
“And what made you touch yourself last night?” My lungs stop working in anticipation of his answer.
“You.” He twines his fingers with mine and holds them up between our hips.
I’m torn between looking at his face and our interlocked fingers. My gaze jumps back and forth in absolute awe. Our skin makes a beautiful pattern of light and tan.
“What about me?” I manage to squeak out the question.
“Your skin on mine. Your body touching mine. Your warmth and your shape. Hard and wide.”
My smirk is sinister. “I’m not the only one who’s hard and wide in more ways than one.”
“Are you? Now?”
“Harder and wider than I’ve ever been,” I offer, unapologetically.
He pulls his fingers back until they nearly separate from mine, then pushes them back together so that our fingers are under each other’s palms. Slowly, he lowers our joined hands into the space between our hips.
His knuckles are a centimeter from my dick.
“Can I?—”
“Yes.” I have to pin my hip to the bed to keep from shoving them forward into his touch. I can’t help but spout my answer. “You can do anything you want.” His eyes go wide. “Or nothing.”
Please don’t choose nothing.
“I don’t—” I’m about to tell him that there’s no pressure here, except for in my balls, and that is not his problem. It’s his fault but not his problem. But the edge of his knuckles glide down the length of my dick.
Even though the fabric of my boxers separates us, and it’s just the ridges of his fingers, my dick jerks. My brain scrambles, and I don’t think I could count by twos if someone held a gun to my head.
All my brain cells shoot to my balls.
“You don’t, what?” Arlo purrs.
My lips part. No intelligible words escape.
His head tilts. The curve of his lips ripple into a kissable purse. He strums me again, moving my hand along with his. “What happened to the cocksure guy, who knows it all?”
I moan, loudly, blatantly.
My body is a live wire. When he touches me, we go to ground. Sparks ignite. Nothing has ever felt this good and he’s barely touching me.
“Hota?”
A whimper is my only response. My brain and body can’t focus on anything but Arlo and the shocking possibilities right in front of me.
“Do you want me to touch you?” He licks his lips, looking as confident as I’ve ever seen him. “Really touch you?”
“Please,” I beg, not above it on any level. Not with Arlo. I’d crawl on my belly for him. I’d scrape my cheek across the ground or even kiss the dirt-covered earth at his command.
He pulls his hand away. Our hands away.
I bite my tongue to keep from whining. The tip of my cock weeps at the loss.
He lifts our hands to his mouth. The brush of his lips across my palm makes me gasp. His deep eyes are steady on mine as he disengages our fingers and sets my hand on his just under the plush of the covers.
My fingers hold him tight to keep from wandering. He hasn’t given me the okay, and I’m too nervous to ask for it.
Me. Too nervous? Who would have ever thought?
Arlo’s fingertips touch the center of my chest over my heart and spread wide until his palm calls to my most protected organ. I’d cut it out and give it to him. He wouldn't even need to ask.
Slowly, he maps my shoulders and pecs, and then each delineated segment of my abdomen. By the time he reaches the elastic of my boxers, I’m primed to explode.
His gaze, which had been roaming my body, lifts to mine. “I’ve never touched a cock, besides my own.”
“Me neither,” I admit.
“What about Nate?”
I swallow, wishing Nate had never put his hands on me, not when Arlo’s touch is everything I’ve ever wanted. “He’s done stuff to me, and I’ve made sure he’s gotten off, but I’ve never touched him.”
“Why?” Arlo asks with his fingertips in the band of my underwear. “Were you scared?”
“No.” I shift my eyes down, studying the hint of physique I can see behind his shirt. Not embarrassed, exactly. More overwhelmed by the promise of this dream becoming a reality.
“Hota?”
He draws my gaze back with the mere whisper of my name. I grit my teeth, then give him what he asked for.
“I didn’t want to touch him.”
“Why not?”
“I wanted to touch you.” The truth slips over my lips too easily.
He hides a smile with words. “Wanted or want?”
“Want. Always want. No matter what.” I sink my fingers against the flesh of his hip.
“Let me touch you first,” he instructs.
I’m nodding before he finishes speaking.
“Never thought I’d see the day when you are compliant,” he teases, slipping his fingertips inside the waistband and tickling the hard V near my hip.
“You know I’d do anything for you. Everything, if you’d let me.”
His eyes close. The seducer disappears. I don’t know where he’s going, but he’s gone for a second into the well of his worry.
“Look at me, Arlo.”
When he does, I see such reverence in his eyes. It’s like a kick to the sternum.
“What is it?”
“You make everything better. Just…breathing is better with you.”
My smile is uncontainable. My heart feels so big it might burst out of my chest.
“I’m so grateful to have you.” He smiles too, and then it falters. “I’m terrified too. I…” He swallows. “I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t. Not ever. No matter what, I’m your guy.”
“My guy.” He tries the words out on his devastating lips.
“Yes.”
His hand slips inside my underwear. The heat of his fingers encircles my length. “My guy. My cock.”
“Fuck, yes.” My mouth falls open.
He simply holds me like a possession, a prized one. Only there’s nothing simple about it. My hips churn of their own accord, moving my flesh against his.
“Jesus, fuck.” His breath puffs against my cheek. “You’re smooth and hard.” His thumb slides over the head of my cock, now fully his. “And wet.”
I’m reduced to whimpers and gasps. I nod and rock my hips.
“Does that feel good?”
“Arlo.” I moan. “Yes.”
“Look at you.” He tosses the covers off us with his leg. His gaze runs the length of my bare chest and exposed dick.
“Oh my God.” My hips lunge forward, harsher this time. The wet tip of my dick presses through his tightened fingers. “Slow down, or I’m going to come.”
“Already?” He smirks. “I’ve just started touching you.”
“Yes.” My gasp is almost feral and too far gone to reel myself back. Then I think about him, about the possibility of touching him. It’s enough to shift my focus. “Let me touch you, please. I’ll make you feel so good. You’ll know how hard it is to hang on more than a few strokes.”
“Yes.”
He answers so quickly that I can’t compute it. I look him in the eyes for any sign that I’m hallucinating. It must read easily on my face.
Arlo presses his hips forward, grazing his covered length against my dick. “Yes.” He repeats with his raspy voice.
I don’t waste one second before I plunge my hand inside his underwear and grasp his length.
“Hota.” Just like I had, he pumps his hips into my hand, gently fucking my palm. “Yes.” He times his thrusts with mine and stares down at the tips of our deep pink cocks ramming out of our pants in tandem.
“Oh God.” I grit my teeth to keep from coming from the sight alone.
“Oh, Arlo,” he corrects.
The tip of his cock weeps, slicking my fingers as I work his taut flesh. “Oh fuck, Arlo. I’m going to blow.”
“Not yet.” His head shakes, banning me from exploding.
I bite my lip and nod, ever compliant. Even if it kills me.
“I don’t want this to end yet.” He grins.
“We can do it again. Hell, it’s all we’re going to do.”
“Not all.” His laugh is sultry and as strained as I feel. “You have to continue to teach me Japanese.”
“Be prepared for an absolutely vile Japanese vocabulary.” I squeeze him tighter and pay extra attention to his tip.
“What dirty things will you teach me?”
I let loose a string of my native tongue that begins quite lurid but ends with a declaration of love and devotion I’m not ready to speak in English, mostly because he’s not ready to hear it.
By the time I’m done, I’m panting and holding on by a thread.
“Wow! That was quite a monologue.” Arlo’s hips pick up speed. Mine follow. “How do you say, ‘Come for me,’ in Japanese?”
“Watashi no tame ni kite.”
“Watashi no tame ni kite,” he demands with perfect inflection.
I thrust once, then twice into his hand and obey.
“Fuck, yes,” he praises. “I’m going to wear out that phrase.”
“Impossible.” I spurt into his hand and onto mine, and on his shirt too.
“That sounds like a challenge.”
The slickness of my cum coats Arlo’s dick. That’s all it takes. He follows, making a mess of the sheets and my chest.
“Yes.” I shiver as the last of my cum jets between his fingers.
Arlo gives himself over to the pleasure, arching his chin high and thrusting his hips into my hold. When he’s finished, he exhales and relaxes onto his side.
“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” I stare at him in awe.
“The hottest?” His brow hikes. “Aren’t you a porn guru?”
“Yes.” I laugh. “Still, it’s true.”
“What’s true is we made a mess.” He holds my slightly softening dick. I’m not embarrassed by it. I find I’d let him hold it forever, lead me around like a dog on a leash by it.
“Shower. Breakfast. Then I’ll teach you some more Japanese.” I wink.
“Can you imagine how fluent I’ll be by the end of this two-week holiday?” His thumb grazes the underside of my length.
Amazingly, I grow in his hand. “You are a quick study.” I groan and grin so wide my cheeks hurt.
“I’ll be the best student you’ve ever had.”
“You’ll be the only student I have.” Without making things awkward, I want him to know I won’t be messing with Nate anymore.
His smile says he understands and likes it.
“Will you teach me some Spanish?” I beg.
He holds up a cum-coated finger. “Are you ready for your first lesson, deviant?”
I stare at his finger covered in both our orgasms. My heart churns like it’s revving to jump out of my chest. “Yes.”
“Whenever I tell you to do something, you say, ‘Sí Papi.’”
“Sí Papi.” I lick my lips. I’m hard as a fucking rock already. My mind swims, imagining the things we can do in this room together. With most of the students gone home for the holidays, we don’t have to be quiet or too discreet.
“Abre la boca.”
Arlo’s gaze drops to my mouth. Plus, I remember the word for mouth is boca. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand what he wants from me. “Sí Papi.” I part my lips and loll out my tongue.
“Eres perfecto,” he purrs and then marks mi boca.