Epilogue #2
Sawyer snatched my wrists before I knew what was happening, lifting my arms high above my head and thunking my hands against the top of the door, trapping me in one swipe of his hand that clutched both my wrists.
His other hand traveled to my waist, where my hoodie had lifted to reveal an inch of my skin.
He slipped his hand under my hoodie and felt the side of my torso all the way from my hip, over my ribcage, and to my armpit.
I thrashed in an attempt to free myself, tickled by his fingertips on my armpit, but Sawyer had such a powerful grip on me that I couldn’t break out of it.
He was also merciful enough to stop tickling me.
Instead, his hand moved under my hoodie to the side of my left pec, following the curved line that attested to somewhat of a serious workout regiment I had introduced into my life.
He was very pleased about that, kissing me harder until his fingers found my nipple and pinched it so hard that I yelped.
Shivers ran down to my groin, making my cock throb painfully, and my hips thrust forward to clash with Sawyer’s.
My crotch rubbed against his, and I whimpered over his lips.
“You’re so horny,” Sawyer pointed out in his voice of absolute pleasure and pride. He was cocky, and I loved him just like that.
“A week is too long,” I whispered, my whole body too tense for conversation.
Sawyer’s eyes sparked with mischief. He pulled back from me, released my arms, and then did precisely what I needed him to do to me. I wouldn’t have been able to ask him so exactly to do this had he given me the chance.
Sawyer grabbed my hips and spun me around, pinning my front to the door and leaning against my back. His erection, trapped in his pants, pressed hard against my butt. I could feel the pulse of excitement course through him.
Sawyer leaned on me with all he had, squeezing me tightly against the door and moving his whole body in a dance-like flow.
His chest pressed against my upper back, his crotch on my ass, his legs firmly set between mine, feet shuffling further out to spread my legs even more.
His hands ran from my shoulders to my wrists and back, then over the middle of my torso and down, down, down.
When he reached my groin, he hooked his hands there.
The immense pressure turned unbearable when Sawyer tugged me gently up, lifting me to the tips of my toes and further.
For a skinny guy who played up his nimbleness and swiftness as his greatest strengths, Sawyer could lift me with surprising ease.
I bit down on my lower lip to stop the moans from dragging out of me. The door between me and the rest of the world was simple wood. It would let sounds travel if anyone passed down the hallway.
The strain of having my feet hang while Sawyer kissed my neck from behind built up the pressure in my chest. I held my breath and cried for pleasure until he let me fall back to my feet. Then, a grunt escaped me, and I thrust my butt back against his crotch.
Sawyer’s hands moved quickly around my waist, cupping my cheeks and squeezing firmly.
He moved his hands around, circling and massaging, appreciating me for all I was.
Then, in a swift move, his hands dragged back up and around to feel my flat stomach and rose higher.
He dragged my hoodie up and up and up until he was holding my chest and reaching for my neck, folds of fabric slowing him down.
I pushed myself back from the door, threw the hoodie up over my head, let it fall on the floor, and leaned against the door again.
Sawyer explored me as if this was our first time, feeling every inch of me.
He kissed the back of my neck, my shoulders, the length of my spine.
Each contact of his lips on my skin sent shivers in every direction.
And the lower he moved, the more tense I became until it felt like I was on the verge of tears with the sheer sensitivity of my body.
Every cell in me was alight. Every part of me was eager to feel his lips.
Sawyer lowered himself to his knees, kissing the small of my back with wet lips, letting the tip of his tongue reach out and meet my body here and there, and running his hands along the sides of my torso.
When his lips brushed against the edge of my denim pants, Sawyer moved his nimble fingers to the button in front, undid it, and pulled the zipper down. I was, by now, gone too far for words. A grunt of approval left my throat as he yanked my pants down my legs, leaving them tangled around my knees.
His right hand swiped over the bulge in my lucky, cucumber-covered underwear, lightly tickling the sensitive tip until I coiled and pushed my butt back.
His other hand caressed the inside of my right leg, ever-rising until he reached my packed balls and cupped them in his palm from behind.
His lips still feathered kisses over the small of my back, but he soon bit the waistband of my boxer-briefs and peeled them over my round, firm butt.
The strap dragged the rest until it folded under my cheeks, Sawyer’s thumb hooking the fabric in place.
Sawyer released my cock and moved both hands to my butt, pulling my cheeks to the side and leaning in.
His hot breath was a welcome sensation on my tender skin.
And when his lips met the core of me, I felt prickles rise all the way to the back of my head.
The left side of my face pressed hard against the door, the smoothed wood caressing my skin whenever the intensity of Sawyer’s movement rocked me.
Sawyer buried his face between my cheeks, his lips and tongue working my tight hole mercilessly.
He wet and licked me, both hands on my cheeks now, massaging and spreading them to give him space to move.
He was careless and messy, his saliva pouring plentifully and his tongue reaching from my taint all over my hole and up, slicking me for his cock.
The pressure of his hands on my cheeks was such that I shuddered all over and reached back, clasping his head and pushing it harder against myself. He rimmed me sloppily, ravaging me with his face and spit and breath.
“Fuck, please,” I whimpered, not entirely sure what I was pleading for.
I wanted him. I wanted more of him. I wanted everything he offered, just like I had wanted it a week ago and a month ago and when we’d first crossed paths.
He was the focus of all my desires. He was the fulfillment of my greatest hopes.
And I wanted our souls to collide and merge when our bodies connected.
I wanted that pure, unfiltered, unrestrained joy of immersion, the blinding lust, and the unity and companionship only a passionate relationship like this could provide.
Sawyer yanked my underwear down, making me yelp in surprise, and my cock sprang free of the tangled waistband. He gripped it in his right hand, stroking me firmly and steadily, all the while pushing his wicked tongue hard against my rim.
“Sawyer,” I pleaded again, and my need seemed more urgent. “…want you…”
Sawyer ignored my pleas and continued to hold me, teetering on the verge of climax and despair.
The two lived so close to one another, and the line separating them was simply Sawyer’s mercy, his willingness to let me throw myself over the edge and take comfort in flying high.
Sawyer was anything but merciful. He tightened his hold on my cock, each thrust of his hand a tease that made me throb and itch deep within, but none of his thrusts came close to helping me orgasm.
My mouth gaped open as air flowed in and out of my lungs. My eyes rolled back, and I rose on my toes. When my soul returned to my body after the brief extra-dimensional trip Sawyer’s naughty tongue had sent it on, I heard myself moaning out loud.
Sawyer pulled back from me, and I shivered.
My cock throbbed dryly in the absence of his hand and cool air met the wetness between my cheeks.
And when Sawyer’s hands fell onto my cheeks, the slapping sound startled me more than the warm, buzzing sensation.
“I could do this all day,” Sawyer rasped, catching his breath.
I fucking couldn’t. Suspended in this torment that tickled my pleasure with grand promises, I could only appreciate the journey after reaching its end. And my love knew it.
As I heard shuffling and movement, I kicked my sneakers off and stepped out of my pants and underwear. In the meantime, Sawyer had taken off most of his clothes, standing in his boxer-briefs, looking at me expectantly.
I was more than glad to make his wishes come true.
As I turned to face him, I descended to my knees, my eyes locked onto his.
His inked torso, arms, and neck were like a canvas to contemporary line art and broody, bad-boy statements, none of which he took too seriously.
He was a growly one when someone looked my way, but so was I when they lusted after my keeper.
I scanned his wiry torso, the definition of his pecs and abs, and the rising and falling of his chest as he breathed deeply.
And I crawled a little closer until my face rested against the hard bulge that stretched his underwear thin.
My eyes darted back to his just as he narrowed them, one of his hands settling on the back of my head and the other swiping his underwear down, but not over his cock.
His thickness remained hidden even as I opened my mouth wide and closed my lips over his covered tip.
The soft scent of soap he’d used in the locker room shower overpowered the faint scent of his musk.