Kendall #2
That couldn’t be right. This couldn’t really be happening. I’d had hundreds of fantasies eerily similar to this one. But when I took a moment to really register what was happening and take stock of my surroundings, it didn’t feel like a dream. Everything was too vivid.
I didn’t know what to say or if I was even allowed to respond.
He was being more vulnerable with me than I’d even known someone like Rhys could be.
And more than anything ever in my life, I wanted to help him.
I wanted all of his attention, all of his focus on me.
Not on his ex, not on the girl he’d just gone out with, and not on his uncertain future.
But I knew for absolute certain he’d never messed around with a guy before.
Would he freak out if I offered? Would he feel like I was preying on him or something, since I was gay and he wasn’t?
But if he didn’t want me, then why had he come to me?
There were tons of girls in this town that would have been thrilled with an impromptu late night visit from our record-setting former quarterback and prom king. But he hadn’t gone to any of them.
He’d come to me.
He looked so out of place splayed out on the pink couch I’d gotten on sale from IKEA.
It was soft and pretty, and he was so masculine with his sharp jawline, and the defined muscles in his arms showing through his rolled up sleeves.
My cock was hard, probably harder than his, but the aching need centered between my thighs was eclipsed by how much I wanted to make him come.
He’d been let down so badly, and neglected for so long. He needed me.
But I couldn’t be the one to offer anything. I couldn’t suggest it. It had to be him to say it. Keeping my voice as calm and level as I’d ever kept it in my entire life, I clamped down on the nerves buzzing through my body as I spoke.
“Is there something you want me to do for you, Rhys?”
My question had his eyes flitting back over to mine, finally. He looked cautious and embarrassed. But most of all, he looked needy. He swallowed so hard it sent out an audible crack into my otherwise silent apartment, before answering.
“Yeah.” The word came out strained.
“You can ask me for anything,” I told him, in the most soft and soothing voice I could muster. “I’d do anything for you.”
“I want you to do what you said, when we were talking at the cabin. When you said if you were with me… You’d never think about other guys.”
The conversation, which had already gone platinum in my head from how many times I’d replayed it since we’d had it, sped through my brain like a frenetic highlight reel.
If I had someone like you… I would be down on my knees every day, showing him how much I wasn’t thinking about other guys.
When I quickly closed the gap between us, sinking down between his spread knees, he looked shocked but deeply relieved that I hadn’t rejected him.
Like I would ever. His fingers started to fumble with the button of his jeans, clumsy and nervous, but I swatted his hand away so I could do it myself.
The second I had the button wrenched open and the zipper tugged down, I leaned forward to bury my face in the front of his boxer briefs and breathe in his light musk.
“Wait,” he said, the words coming out urgent and rough.
Fuck. Was he changing his mind already? Had he come to his senses and remembered that even though I was small and cute in a specific kind of way, I was still a guy?
I froze, staring up at him through my lashes as saliva pooled in my mouth from the way he smelled and the way the taut muscles in his thighs were bunching up against my hands.
“Do you think… I should get contacts?” He asked.
I didn’t think my brain could handle another short-circuit after the two he’d already caused in such a short period. But it wasn’t like I could ignore his question to pull his dick out.
“What?”
“Contacts. Instead of glasses, I mean. Do you think my glasses look bad on me?”
“No,” I said honestly. “They look really good. They make you look… distinguished. You’re so hot, like a sexy professor.”
I felt his muscles tense against me, and a tiny whimper sounded from his throat, like he hadn’t been expecting my praise and the compliment had somehow gained sentience and physical form and started sucking his dick before I even could.
I couldn’t tell if it was nerves because of who I was or because he hadn’t done anything in so long, or a combination of both.
The idea of Rhys Kensington having some kind of praise kink was…
Okay, really fucking hot because basically all I wanted to do was spend all day and night telling him how insanely attractive and cool and smart he was and how I’d always been completely obsessed with him.
But it was also kind of unbelievable. Nothing ever worked out that perfectly, right?
“Thanks,” he rasped out, his eyes darting back and forth between my lips and his crotch, where his cock was tenting out his underwear.
I took that to mean he didn’t have any other pressing questions and slipped my fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs, tugging them down to let his engorged cock spring out and smack up against his navel.
It was big, even bigger than I’d imagined in my fantasies, the thick head flaring out perfectly and already leaking droplets of precum.
I felt possessed by the need to lap them up, and the moment my tongue touched the tip of his cock, Rhys groaned through his gritted teeth, his head falling back to rest on my couch. He was that sensitive?
“Poor baby,” I murmured, wrapping my fingers around his shaft while I licked over his slit, practically moaning at the taste of him on my tongue.
I hadn’t exactly meant to say that part out loud, but as soon as I did, his hips jerked up from the couch like he couldn’t help himself, another moan spilling out from his lips.
“Fuck.” He panted the word out, his knuckles going pale as he gripped the edge of the couch cushions.
I wasn’t exactly new at this act, and I’d had guys be pretty vocal and reactive before, but nothing compared to this.
He was practically arching and begging and I’d barely even started touching him.
It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen and heard in my life.
Because I wanted more of those beautiful, desperate little noises before I took him to the back of my throat, I kept a loose grip around his thick cock, holding it in place as I pressed teasing kisses down his shaft.
I lingered at the base, laving my tongue over his full, heavy balls before moving back up to tease the notch on the underside of his cock.
His chest was heaving already, his panting becoming more breathy and labored. One of his hands whipped up from the couch to tangle in my hair, pulling me forward and even closer to him.
“Your cock is so big,” I purred, letting my lips graze against his swollen, burning hot cockhead as I spoke. His fingers tightened in my hair, his hips jerking up again as he pulsed in my hand.