Chapter 14 #3
Emerson complied, scrambling to all fours.
Luca placed his own knees between Emerson’s legs as he climbed back onto the bed.
Resting one hand on Emerson’s hip for balance, he pushed his other palm, fingers splayed, down Emerson’s spine until he reached the base of his neck.
Gently, he pushed until Emerson’s head hit the pillow again.
“I want you to be comfortable,” Luca said. “Are you comfortable?”
Emerson breathed out. “Yeah.”
“And you’ll tell me to stop at any point, okay?”
Emerson nodded. “Okay.”
Luca stayed there a moment more, thumb circling on Emerson’s neck, watching his face as Emerson settled himself more fully. He knew Emerson could likely feel his own erection, pressed against his ass; Luca held back groans at every shift of Emerson’s body.
Only when he felt Emerson was truly comfortable did Luca lower his mouth to Emerson’s skin once more.
But this time, his lips focused on that glorious ass.
His hands ran up Emerson’s thighs, curved around his hips as he kissed and licked, trying to gauge Emerson’s comfort level with Luca being all up in here.
Emerson was relatively quiet at first, much quieter than he had been during the massage; the slight hitches of his breath were the only things Luca had to go on.
But those hitches deepened, lengthened with each of Luca’s experiments: stretching Emerson’s cheeks farther apart with his thumbs; bringing his mouth slowly closer; cupping his balls.
When he dared to run his tongue over Emerson’s perineum, Emerson’s body jolted in tandem with a sharp inhale.
“Okay?” Luca asked, lips skating over the peach fuzz at the bottom of Emerson’s ass.
“Yeah,” Emerson answered, followed by a barely audible fuck.
Luca decided to get to work then.
Letting go of Emerson’s balls, he used both hands to hold open Emerson’s cheeks, placing a sloppy kiss on his hole before darting out his tongue.
Emerson reacted then, one of those moans Luca had been missing.
Luca worked him in gentle circles, taking occasional breaks to kiss his ass cheeks before going back in, applying a bit more pressure with his tongue, more low moans to vibrate against him each time.
“Fuck,” Emerson breathed. “Fuck, that feels good.”
The praise glowed in Luca’s chest, renewed his determination to get Emerson off this way.
Emerson pushed his ass against Luca’s face; Luca could hear his hands scrambling against the sheets.
Could feel Emerson’s body softening, opening beneath his tongue.
Luca himself was often stimulated enough with just this, just a gentle rimming with his own hand on his cock, but he decided to see if Emerson might like more.
Maneuvering one hand back to Emerson’s balls, Luca rolled his tongue at Emerson’s entrance and pushed.
Emerson let him in.
Slowly at first, but Emerson’s reactions—more scrambling against his pillows, gasps, a steady muttering of fucks—were more than enough for Luca to keep going, until his tongue was truly fucking Emerson’s hole.
Emerson’s hand had moved to his dick, bumping into Luca’s fingers that still fondled his balls with every stroke.
Like all sexual acts, it was a weird, messy, chaotic coordination that made Luca equally worked up even if his own dick wasn’t being touched.
Emerson grew louder with each passing second; Luca wished he could see him better, that he could reach up and stick his thumb in Emerson’s open mouth.
“Fuck,” Emerson said. “I’m gonna—”
Luca stayed where he was, dick twitching as Emerson came.
“Oh my god,” Emerson breathed. “Fuck.” Luca smiled, cheeks curving against Emerson’s ass as he felt a few aftershocks shudder through Emerson’s body. His hands moved to rub Emerson’s thighs, his lower back, as his mouth peppered a few last kisses along his butt.
“Oh my god,” Emerson said. “Was that embarrassing?”
Luca laughed against his skin. “What?”
“I came so hard. I—” Emerson shoved his face into his pillow. “God, that was so good.”
Luca finally removed himself from Emerson’s ass, stretching upright with a wince. The way he’d had to bend to make that work without toppling off the bed hadn’t been great. Worth every second, though. His wince quickly turned into a laugh when Emerson collapsed beneath him, knees giving out.
“Oh, fuck.” Emerson was back to sounding drunk again. “Oh god that’s so gross. I just fell all over my own stuff. I’m gonna have to wash the comforter. I don’t fucking care.”
Luca laughed again. He leaned down, shoving his nose between Emerson’s shoulder blades.
“Your own stuff?”
“All the words are too gross. Feels gross, too, but. Don’t care.”
Luca settled himself at Emerson’s side. He kissed Emerson’s lightly freckled shoulder.
“It’s not gross, Emerson. That was hot.”
Emerson was quiet then. Luca settled against the pillow, one hand running lightly up and down Emerson’s back. The real world crept back into Luca’s senses: the murmuring sounds of the farm outside, the hums and creaks of the house. The steady cadence of their own breaths.
“Luca,” Emerson eventually said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this relaxed in my whole life.”
Luca’s smile stretched so wide that it almost felt weird. He buried another kiss in Emerson’s shoulder.
“Mission accomplished then.”
Emerson turned his head. He’d been faced away toward the other side of the bed, but now his eyes found Luca’s, mere inches apart.
The blue-green of his irises seemed especially bright in the lamplight.
They were steady. Calm. Happy. All the wrinkles of Emerson’s face that surrounded them were so handsome.
Luca’s blood pressure had been normalizing, but his heart thumped against his chest now.
He was just about to excuse himself from the bed, from the room, from whatever was happening here when Emerson finally spoke.
“Your turn.”
He rolled onto his side so they were facing each other, chest to chest. His voice was still unmistakably sleepy, though.
“You don’t have to,” Luca said, honestly. He was tired, too, and the way Emerson had just been looking at him had been—he didn’t know. He didn’t know how his own face had looked, looking back.
“I want to,” Emerson said. “At least I want to try. I don’t know if I’ll be very good at it, but—please.”
Luca released a slow breath. Emerson had sounded so fucking earnest. “Okay.”
“I think I only have the energy to use my hands. Is that okay?”
A small laugh escaped Luca’s lips. His dick hadn’t necessarily gone to sleep, but it was certainly waking the fuck back up now. “Yeah, Emerson. Of course that’s okay.”
“Can you—I’m sorry. My body still isn’t quite working. Can you get the lube? It’s in the drawer next to you.”
Smiling, Luca retrieved the lube. When he turned back, Emerson had shuffled an inch closer to him.
“Thanks.” Emerson smiled. Luca’s heart thudded some more. He’d just had his face shoved in Emerson’s ass for a not insignificant amount of time, but this felt much more intimate. They were so close, it was impossible to look away. To see anything but every single line of Emerson’s face.
But when Emerson’s warm, lubed-up hand gripped the base of Luca’s dick, he couldn’t handle it anymore, and his eyes fluttered closed. His pelvis tilted into Emerson’s hand, his left leg lifting and hooking over Emerson’s right.
“Yeah,” Emerson encouraged, voice soft but alert now. “That’s good. Is it comfortable for you, like this?”
Luca only nodded. Emerson’s palm swirled up, hold gentle, until his thumb swiped against Luca’s slit. It was all almost too gentle; he wanted Emerson to jerk him off hard and fast so he could get the hell out of here.
And then Emerson leaned forward and kissed him.
Luca kissed him back; of course he did, was helpless not to.
Distantly, he wished he’d been able to use some mouthwash first, but Emerson didn’t seem to mind.
Emerson’s hand sped up, his grip finally tightening as their tongues tangled, and god.
God, it was perfect. Luca wished sex didn’t feel so fucking good. He wished—
“This okay?” Emerson broke off the kiss to say, and Luca almost laughed, it was such a ridiculous thing to ask.
“Yeah, Emerson,” he managed, and if Emerson needed reassurance, the fact that Luca’s voice sounded so fucking wrecked within, like, two minutes of Emerson touching him should have been proof enough. “This is perfect.”
His eyes had cracked open despite himself, and so he was able to see the smile that Emerson gave him in response, so happy that he looked years younger, decades lighter than Luca had ever seen him.
Luca forced his eyes closed again, found Emerson’s mouth again.
His hands fumbled into action, grabbing at Emerson’s side, his jaw, as he pushed into Emerson’s hand.
Emerson’s fingers—fuck, they were exactly as Luca had imagined.
Even through the slipperiness of the lube, it was like Luca could feel every single detail of the calloused, rough perfection of them.
He would’ve told Emerson to slow down, if he could, if he had even an inch of self-control.
Because even if it was what he’d just told himself he wanted, he was going to come too fast, any minute, and he didn’t possess the ability to stop.
He was making sounds, he knew, that were too loud, that were embarrassing; their kiss had turned sloppy around them, but Luca couldn’t stop kissing Emerson anyway.
He was still kissing him, still gripping the side of Emerson’s face when he came seconds later, all over both of them, all over Emerson’s already-wrecked comforter.
Luca should have put a towel down, should have gotten under the covers, should have never made this sex agreement with Emerson in the first place, should have never approached him at that bar.
Emerson was still kissing him, Luca slowly realized, even if Luca had been frozen for who knew how long. It wasn’t sloppy anymore; there were no tongues or teeth involved, just Emerson’s soft lips, gently caressing Luca’s mouth, his nose, his chin.
“I should get cleaned up,” Luca said. “You should, too.”
Emerson, finally, put a breath of space between them, a small, crooked smile on his face.
“No kidding.”
With heroic effort, Luca got himself off Emerson’s bed. He didn’t know if Emerson expected them to get cleaned up together; he didn’t know what Emerson was thinking at all. All Luca knew was that he had to ride the aftereffects of his orgasm into a deep, dreamless sleep as soon as fucking possible.
He gathered his jeans, walked to the door with them crumpled in his hands.
“Sleep well, Emerson,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”
He closed the door without waiting for a response.