Jett
“Fuck, were blow jobs always this good?” Wes groans, slinging his arm across his face, his chest heaving.
“No.” I kiss his stomach, my heart about to pound its way out of my chest. He tastes salty, a mixture of cum and sweat, and I could spend the rest of the night down here with zero complaints.
“Didn’t think so.” He pushes at my shoulder. “You alive down there?” I pinch the inside of his thigh, and he winces. His skin blooms pink, and I hope it leaves a mark. I like the idea of my mark on him, just like he’s already left his mark on me.
I roll onto my back, my entire body aching in the best way.
I don’t want to go, but I’ve pretty much spent all day with Wes.
It’s dark outside. As it always does when I’m with him, time just passes easily.
Today was exactly what I needed. If it weren’t for Wes, I would’ve never gone to the market and instead stayed holed up in my apartment.
Then, when we got back, one moment led to another, and before I knew it, we ended up in his bed, trading sloppy blow jobs.
“I should go,” I sigh.
“You don’t have to. You could stay.”
His hand finds my head, and he fingers my hair.
I close my eyes, savoring the feeling. He’s a lot more affectionate than I thought, very touchy-feely.
I used to be too, and Anthony would always complain that I was clingy whenever we went out.
I don’t think I was; I just loved touching him, feeling connected.
Like earlier, when Wes grabbed my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.
His seeking closeness felt good, but it also kept me grounded as we walked around the busy market.
Wes nudges my shoulder with his foot. “Come up here. Let’s snuggle.”
“I don’t snuggle.”
He scoffs. “Liar. You’ve got the snuggle vibe written all over you. You’re just playing hard to get.”
“You’re delusional. I can still taste your cum in my mouth. How the fuck is that playing hard to get?”
“Just get your ass up here.” He nudges me again, and I grab his foot, biting his ankle.
“Hey! Didn’t I feed you enough?”
I repeat his words from the other day. “Big boy, big appetite.”
“Yeah, my jaw can sure as shit vouch for that. I think I sprained a muscle before.” Shit, he’s so corny, but somehow it’s endearing.
“It’s not keeping you from yammering away.”
“I’m sucking up the pain because I know how much you love the sound of my voice.”
I rest my chin on his hip, looking up at him. “Aww, was I too rough on you?” His voice rings through my head. ‘Fuck my mouth, Jett. Fuck it like you fucking mean it.’ Maybe I did go a little overboard, but the way he begged for it… So damn bossy.
“I’ll live,” he sniffles.
I make my way up his body, pressing kisses along the way. Wes squirms underneath me, his abs clenching, his chest rippling. He’s ridiculously ripped. “Fuck, you’re hot,” I speak against his skin.
He gasps when I close my mouth around his nipple and suck it into my mouth. Arching his back, he pushes his chest into my face.
“Fuuuck,” he hisses. “That’s nice.”
“Yeah?” I lick across his chest, circling the other nipple with my tongue. It’s the first time I really get to explore his body like this.
“Uh-huh.” His hands find the back of my head, and he digs his fingers into my scalp.
His cock rubs against mine, all slick and solid.
I can’t believe I’m hard again. I just came.
I press harder against him, locking us together.
My scalp stings, but it feels amazing. It’s like I come alive under his touch, small fires igniting wherever he touches me.
“Shit, like that,” he moans, thrusting upwards, sliding his swollen cockhead against mine.
Something sparks in my brain, like an impulse to get him closer, for him to fill me, to own me.
I think I’d really want him to. He said he’s willing to explore it.
“Jett, I’m close.” He clings to me, his body shaking.
“You wanna come like this?” I ask, grinding against him, kneading his thighs with my hands. I’m fucking close, too.
He nods, his eyes slammed shut, sweat beading along his forehead. “Yeah.”
“Do it. Come for me.”
With a grunt, he explodes between us, his length pulsing. I follow him soon after, burying my face against him, my scream muffled against his chest. He wraps his arms around me, holding me tight. My mind is empty, deprived of any thoughts. I nuzzle his chest, the soft hair tickling my nose.
“That was so fucking hot,” Wes sighs.
I press a kiss against his sternum. “It was,” I murmur, as my limbs grow heavy. Sleep pulls at me, and my eyes drift shut. From some place far away, I hear Wes’ deep chuckle, “Not a snuggler, my ass.” Then I’m out.
I blink my eyes open as I take in my surroundings.
Sunlight spills through the windows, casting the white walls in a golden glow.
It takes me a moment to register where I am, then yesterday comes back to me in glimpses.
The market, Wes cooking me dinner, then falling asleep all sated and spent in his arms.
Last night is a blur of groping, impatient fingers, clothes flying everywhere, hands on skin, his lips against mine. I’ve never been this physically into a guy before. If he were next to me right now, I’d go for another round in a heartbeat.
I roll onto my back and stretch my arms above my head.
I can smell myself, the mixture of sweat and dried cum.
I wince as I take in my stomach, the proof of last night clinging to my skin and stuck in my happy trail.
Fuck, I look as debauched as I feel. I sit up, scanning Wes’ bedroom. Where the hell are my clothes?
I get out of bed and find them in a pile on the floor.
I pick up my shirt and sniff it, smelling like last night’s dinner.
I throw it on the bed, then grab my jeans instead, pulling them on.
I have no fucking clue where my briefs and socks are.
Lost in action, I guess. I notice a light blue hoodie hanging over a chair and grab it.
It smells and looks clean, so I tug it over my head.
It’s a little on the smaller side, but it’ll have to do.
In the bathroom, I relieve myself, then splash some water on my face and rinse out my mouth. I wet some toilet paper and scrub off the worst of the dried cum from my stomach, but it just crumbles into a mess.
I roam through the cabinet to find some deodorant and quickly roll some under my arms.
I take in myself in the mirror, looking strangely rested, having slept through the entire night for once.
Wes is in the kitchen, bowls and pans everywhere, cooking in full swing.
He doesn’t notice me, bobbing his head along to some chill beat, his body swaying.
He’s in a simple white tee, a pair of gray sweats hanging low on his hips.
Whenever he moves, his T-shirt rides up, showing a glimpse of tanned skin.
I clear my throat, and his face lights up the second he sees me.
“Hey there, sleepyhead! You’re just in time.” He stirs a whisk around a pot of boiling water to create a whirlpool, then cracks an egg against the side and drops it into the pot.
As the eggs cook, he moves toward me, reaching for the strings on his hoodie. “Is that mine?” he smiles. I swallow, my gaze zeroing in on his lips.
“Yeah. I, uhm…” I scratch the back of my head. “I hope you don’t mind. Mine was a little… used.”
“Don’t mind at all. You look fiiine.” He waggles his eyebrows.
I groan, tipping my head back. “God, you’re one of those morning people, aren’t you?” He shrugs and leans in to kiss me. When I pull away, he frowns. “I haven’t brushed my teeth,” I explain.
“Dude, I swallowed your cum last night.” He fists the hoodie and pulls me in, slamming his mouth against mine. I melt against him, my legs buckling, and when we break away, I’m all dazed. “You’re cute,” he muses. “And you smell like me.” Busted. “I kinda like it. Shit, did that sound vain?”
He turns back to the pot and picks up a skimming ladle.
“What are you making?”
“Eggs Benedict.” He lifts the egg out of the steaming water and places it carefully on a paper towel.
“You’re making Eggs Benedict? Seriously?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, why not? I was gonna make my famous chorizo and green pepper omelet, but they didn’t have the sweet chorizo at the store, and I didn’t know if you liked spicy food, so I got salmon instead. It’s smoked. I hope you like smoked stuff.”
I gape at him. “You went to the store?”
“Yeah.” He picks up another egg and cracks it against the pot. “Will you get the salmon out of the fridge? Bottom shelf. There are some grapes, too.”
“Uh-huh.” I move to the fridge, feeling like I just landed in the middle of a cooking show. “What time is it?”
“A little after eleven, I think.”
I freeze. “Eleven?! It’s eleven?!”
He picks up his phone from the counter. “Eleven fifteen, actually.”
“Why didn’t you wake me? What if I had plans today?” The loss of control hits me out of nowhere.
“Do you?”
“What?” I snap, carding my fingers through my hair.
Wes’ smile is patient. “Do you have plans today, Jett?”
“No.” My heart hammers away in my chest. I don’t even know why I’m panicking. It’s dumb, really.
Wes puts the phone down, then moves toward me and pulls me against him.
I fight him at first, my instincts telling me I need to go, that I should have left last night.
He doesn’t budge, holding me tight, his strong arms locking around my back.
I close my eyes and breathe him in, my lungs struggling for air at first.
“Don’t panic,” he says, his voice soft and low.
Don’t panic. If it were anyone else telling me that, I would’ve ripped their head clean off their body.
It makes no sense that Wes gets a hall pass.
What is it about him? He strokes his fingers up and down my back in soothing movements, and I relax against him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you,” he whispers. “You just looked so peaceful.”
My eyes sting, and I squeeze them tight. Peaceful. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, fisting his shirt. “I don’t know why I freaked out.”
“It’s okay.” He eases me away from him, and I blink my eyes open.
“It’s not. I’m sorry I exploded like that.” Shame courses through me. Here’s Wes, cooking me breakfast, and I flip out over nothing.
“You just panicked,” he says, still holding me.
“My uhm… My mom panics sometimes, too. When things get too overwhelming. You don’t have to apologize.
” I nod, at a loss for what to say. The way he sees me and acknowledges my feelings is reassuring, yet frightening at the same time.
He leans in and rests his forehead against mine. “You hungry?”
“Famished, actually.”
“Good, ’cause I bought tons of goodies!”
“I feel like I should start chipping in if you’re gonna make a habit out of feeding me.”
He waves me off. “Pft, I love cooking. You can pay me back in…” He bites his bottom lip, his eyes roaming my body.
“You’re ridiculous,” I say, but I love his eyes on me, the appraisal and evident hunger.
“So you keep saying, and yet you’re still here. Now, grab the salmon and let’s eat.”
Eggs Benedict à la Wes turn out to be amazing, not that I had any doubts. The salmon melts on my tongue, and the eggs are cooked to perfection. I wipe my plate clean with a piece of bread, then lean back on the couch and pat my stomach. Wes laughs, setting his fork down.
“What?” I ask, leaning my head against the backrest.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head, licking his fingers clean, and suddenly I’m jealous of fingers. He scoots closer and leans in, smiling. “Better now?”
I nod. “Much better. I’ll feel even better if you kiss me.”
“Yeah?” His smile turns seductive. “Where?”
I push at his shoulder. “Jeeez, on my fucking lips!”
“Okay, okay, relax,” he laughs. “Enough with the battering. It was a legit question. You have more than one head, and they’re both obsessed with my tongue.” He demonstratively licks his lips.
“My head is obsessed with your tongue?”
“Your mouth. Whatever. You know what I mean.”
I close the gap between us and kiss him, and he hums against my lips.
It’s less urgent than yesterday, like he’s kissing me with intent.
His hand comes to my chin, tilting my head as he deepens the kiss.
He tastes like smoked salmon and coffee, and I think it’s become my new favorite flavor.
He nibbles on my bottom lip, coaxing my mouth to open further, then slides his tongue in.
I’m loose and pliant in his arms, moving me whichever way he wants.
I’m starting to trust Wes. The way he reacted earlier to my budding panic attack, the way he shares parts of himself with me so easily when I give so little back in return.
Without breaking the kiss, he pushes me back on the couch. His body is heavy, and he smells so fucking good from the soap he bought yesterday. I haven’t even showered, but somehow I can’t be bothered. It feels so nice, lying here underneath him, pressed into the couch.
Eventually, he lifts himself onto his hands, looking down at me. “You in a hurry to go home?”
I brush his hair out of his eyes. “Nah.”
“You wanna hang out some more? Maybe watch something? There’s this show on HBO I’ve been wanting to watch. Task with Mark Ruffalo.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
His eyebrows shoot to his hair. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
I laugh. “Well, duh.”
“Shit, I’m rubbing off on you.”
“Maybe later. Can I shower first?”
He smirks. “You can do whatever you want, babe.” Babe. I wait for the panic to return, but nothing happens. Wes gets up and pulls me with him. “Everything you need is in the bathroom. Just help yourself. Unless you wanna shower at your place?”
“No, here’s fine.” I don’t want to go to my place because I’ll just find a reason not to come back. Like I’ve outstayed my welcome, and I’m crowding his space. But Wes has given me no reason to believe he doesn’t want me to stay. “Do you… never mind.”
“What?”
“Do you wanna join me? In the shower?” It’s a stupid question, since he’s already showered.
He smiles, and it lights up his face in that way I’ve come to miss when he’s not around. “I’d love to.”
“Yeah?” I’m getting too attached; I know I am. It’s dangerous territory, and it’ll probably backfire, but I just like him too damn much.
“Of course.”