Chapter 7 #4
I smile up at him. There’s no humour in the grin, just a basic want that gnaws at my body and makes me set aside all of my concerns and worries. I have to have him. It’s as simple and profound as that—my whole existence narrowed down to just him.
“Give me your cock.”
He sucks in a harsh breath. “This is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispers fervently.
“Thank you,” I say gravely. “Nice to know I’m ahead of the competition.”
With the speed of youth, he unfastens his jeans and pushes them down alongside his briefs. His cock springs up, the head already sticky. My mouth waters. I need to taste him.
I lean in and take him into my mouth, the movement slow and inexorable until he hits the back of my throat.
I swallow deliberately, and he breathes out a choked moan.
I glance up at his face and discover he’s smashed his hand over his mouth.
My cock gives a little kick. My briefs are already wet with precome, but right now my whole attention is on making him come.
I pull back, licking along his cock before taking him back in.
We don’t have time to play. I’d love nothing more than to spread him out over my bed and trace every line of his gorgeous body with my tongue, but that’s not happening tonight.
It won’t ever happen I tell myself, but of course, nothing I say matters when I’m busy on my knees, my hands fastened tight on his hips as I suck and lick him until my chin is wet with spit.
Despite his attempts to be quiet, little moans and huffs of breath escape as he cants his hips helplessly, thrusting his cock into my mouth.
His face is slack with lust, and as our gazes hold, he rucks up his shirt and squeezes his nipple, pulling at the bar.
His head falls back against the wall, and he does it again, giving a soft groan.
His inhibited joy both touches me and turns me on, an honesty free of the posturing people often put on during sex.
I redouble the suction, lowering my hand and squeezing his balls gently. They’re soaked in spit and drawn up tight against his body.
The vein on his shaft’s underside hardens, and the taste of his seed is tart on my tongue.
He’s close. I raise one hand and twist his nipple cruelly.
He grabs my head, pushing me into his groin with no attempt at gentleness.
I go willingly, bobbing up and down. My own cock is throbbing, but I ignore it the same way I ignore the sound of slurps and heavy breathing that obviously reveal what we’re doing to anyone nearby.
“Yes,” he gasps. He’s too loud, but, God, I want him even louder. I want everyone to see us, to know how mad he is for me. I pull off, blowing a stream of cool air over his cock, and he grunts. “No. Take it, Reuben. Please. I want to come so bad.”
The petulant whine calls to something inside me, and, as I swallow him down again, I send my finger behind his balls and across the thin skin of his perineum and then to the little hole between his taut cheeks.
It’s hot and tight and I trace the wrinkled opening before pushing in my fingertip, all while sucking as if my life depends on it.
“Ungh. Oh yes.” His whole body tightens as he begins to pulse into my mouth. His come coats my throat, and I swallow eagerly, still pinching his nipple while he jerks and shudders, making little, breathy noises.
He slowly stills, and I pull off, licking my lips and leaning my head against his thigh for a welcome second. He runs his fingers through my hair, the movements gentle and far too tender.
For the rest of my life, I’ll remember this moment. The moment when I knelt at the feet of the most beautiful young man I’ve ever met. In years to come, I’ll remember the weight of his cock in my mouth, the taste of his come, and the heady scent of the lilac.
“Now you,” he whispers.
I shake my head, still resting against his thigh. “No, just you,” I say hoarsely, my throat protesting what I’ve just done.
“That’s not fair,” he predictably protests.
I hide my smile in the crease where his leg meets his groin. “Life isn’t fair.”
His breaths are gradually slowing, and he’s still stroking my hair. I inhale the dark scent of his pubes mingling with come until it’s impossible to think of anything but him.
My phone rings, the harsh sound intruding into the moment like a thunderclap in a blue sky. “Shit.” I wrench away from Xavier, my arm jerking as I fumble for my phone, trying to make the awful noise stop.
I stare down at the contact photo in horror as my brain abruptly comes back online. What have I done? “It’s Jez.”
Xavier stirs. “Is he ringing to see if you’ve tucked me in for the night?” He laughs as I smack his thigh. “Ouch. Harsh, Reuben.”
“Be quiet.” I rise to my feet quickly. After I tuck in his cock and zip him, he remains leaning against the wall, his shirt rucked up, and his torso flexing forwards in invitation.
I glare at him, and he rolls his eyes, grumbling under his breath as he rights himself. I point at him. “I mean it. Keep your mouth shut.”
“I swear by the Explorer Scouts’ pledge to do as you say.”
“Were you ever a member?”
He shrugs. “My grandmother made me join last year. It was supposed to give me healthy outlets for my energy. I lasted thirty-two hours and then I was thrown out for giving Bobby Chalmers a BJ behind the scout hut.” He huffs.
“They didn’t even give out badges for that.
How unfair is that? They should have been catering to all talents.
Not every scout’s path in life is joining in things and climbing mountains. ”
My laughter cuts off when the phone stops ringing. Before I can breathe a sigh of relief, it starts again. I suck in a deep, steadying breath and click to connect. “Jez?”
“Hey, mate, I rang to say sorry.”
“For what?”
“For snapping at you.”
“And?”
There’s a short silence. “For being rude about Xavier. You’re right. I need to try harder. I’m so glad you’re with me, because I wouldn’t know the right thing to do otherwise.”
Guilt sears through me, leaving a taste of bile on my tongue.
Xavier draws me closer, and our bodies slide against each other.
My cock is still hard, and I grit my teeth until the urge to grind on him leaves me.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not true,” I mutter, closing my eyes and gently pushing away Xavier.
If I block him out, I could surely remove the temptation of him.
“Well, thanks again. Anyway, I’ve pulled a bird, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
I click to end the call and slide my phone into my pocket. “We can’t do this again.”
Xavier’s eyes are wicked and knowing. “I’m pretty sure that’s a naughty lie.”
“I’m telling the truth,” I protest, but I already know I’m lying, and by his expression, he knows the same.
“Shit, I’m cursed,” I groan.
He chuckles. “Most men would be ecstatic about taking a young man to bed. A young man who is charming, charismatic, and clever.”
“Are we talking about someone else?”
“You’re very much a cup half empty, aren’t you?”
“Xavier, I think we kicked that cup over and trampled on the fucking contents.”
“No reason not to do it again. What?” he says as I raise my eyebrow. “We’ve already done something wrong, so let’s just keep doing it. It’ll get easier then.”
“You are actually Satan. This is like The Omen if Damien had been excessively snarky.”
“It’s probably a good job that Cynthia wouldn’t let me have a dog, then.”
I laugh and before I can step away from him, I somehow end up pulling him close and kissing him again. I’m doomed.