Chapter 27 #2
I reach my arms around so that my hands are on his ass, pushing him even closer to my face. From this vantage point, I can see his hole, perfected and puckered and just begging to have my tongue against it.
“Can I?” My tone is wanting, and I hold my breath, hoping that he says yes.
“Are you sure?” he asks, pushing up on his elbows to look at me more closely.
We haven’t done this before, but it doesn’t mean that I’m not excited as all hell to try it.
I nod. Probably a little too enthusiastically, and he laughs.
Then, he holds himself up with a single elbow, and with his free hand, runs his fingertips along my face before sliding a finger into my mouth.
I suck it, watching as his pupils blow wide.
He’s not laughing anymore.
Now, he’s moaning and keening, his thighs squeezing against my shoulders.
“You like me sucking on your finger?” I ask at the same time he rubs the wetness across my lips.
“I do,” He bites his own lip. “And I also like getting you ready to eat me out.”
A thrill shoots through me, and for the first time, I’m aware of my own arousal and how hard my cock is straining against my underwear. It’s the one fatal flaw in this position–that he can’t touch me too. But there will be time for that soon enough, I hope.
I gently nip at the pad of his fingertip before taking a deep inhale and diving in.
My lips, just like he planned, are already wet.
I start slowly, my tongue exploring him.
He’s already making sounds again, and I get even more confident when I feel him start to work his shaft up and down.
I wish that I could be everywhere, touching him all at once, but every time his elbow brushes against my broad shoulder when he hits the base of his shaft, I moan, too.
“Asher. Fuck, baby,” he pants, his movements already growing uncoordinated.
This is so much better than I thought it was going to be, and I was already really damn excited. My tongue is working against his resistance, pushing in with progressively more force. I swirl around his rim before centering in, making tight, hard circles. His hand pumps harder.
I think he’s about to come when his whole body tenses, but then I register that his hands are tugging at my hair, pulling me upward. He drags me forward into a messy, uncoordinated kiss, both of our chests heaving.
“I don’t want to come like this. I want to come with your cock in my mouth. I’ve been thinking about it way too much.”
Heat skitters through me, like it does anytime he’s so overt with his attraction to me. He slides back, farther onto the bed, and I follow him. “Where do you want me,” I say eagerly.
“Flat on your back,” he says as a thrill shoots through me.
I follow his instructions quickly, and he wastes no time, shifting his body over mine, only he’s facing the opposite direction. He pulls my boxer briefs down, and his mouth is on me, hot and consuming.
“Fuck,” I moan, trying to remember to be quiet but probably failing miserably. He takes all of me deep into his throat, the vibrations making me ready to explode in his mouth.
I shake my head, trying to remember not to get lost in how good he feels. I want to make him feel good. And if this is what we’re both competitive about, I think that we could both end up very, very happy.
His knees are on either side of my head, and I reach up to pull his hips back toward me. I get back to the very important business of working my tongue into him until I hear those incredible sounds that he was making a minute ago.
Luckily, I don’t have to wait long. I keep my hands on his hips, pulling him against my mouth as I eat him like I’m a starving man who hasn’t had a meal in weeks. He groans, and the sounds are even better than before, now that they’re muffled with his lips wrapped around my cock.
Once I’m sure that he’s going to keep his ass exactly where I want it, I spit into my hand, lubing it up. I reach around and start stroking his thick length. His body jerks, and he loses the rhythm for a second.
“Yes,” he grunts, finding the motion of my mouth and my hand and his mouth, everything working together until I feel a prickle radiating outward from the base of my spine. Pressure is building and building and…
He swirls his tongue against the tip of my cock and I squirt into his mouth. He pulls me deep into the back of his throat, swallowing my come like he’s even needier than me.
“Wyatt,” I groan as waves of pleasure wrack through my body.
Maybe he was already close, or maybe it’s hearing me say his name with so much need, but he shudders and I feel the telltale stickiness of a job well-done coating my hand and fingers.
But I don’t stop working him. I keep my pace up, milking every last drop from his beautiful body.
He coats my stomach, too, and I only feel a flicker of disappointment that I didn’t get to swallow it.
Once he’s spent, I can see the little quivers radiating through his thighs, but he still shifts his position with a surprising amount of ease. I can barely sit up right now, so I’m not sure how he just accomplished that acrobatic feat.
He’s standing next to the bed, and I’m afraid that he’s going to ask me to leave until he bends down and gives me a quick, soft kiss that puts my flurry of apprehension to bed quickly. “I’ll get you a towel. Don’t go anywhere.”
I throw my arm over my heavy head, which has somehow found itself nested on top of a pillow. We’ve never come at the same time before, and it was even more intense than I expected. I felt like I was one half of a whole, my pleasure tied to his in a way that I can’t even begin to unpack.
Luckily, I don’t have too much time to think about it because he returns seconds later.
He put on a pair of shorts that hang low on his hips, and I’m struck by how fucking sexy he is.
I cannot believe I’m in his bed right now.
Especially when he sits next to me and starts gently wiping my stomach with a warm, wet washcloth.
It’s tender, making the moment even more emotional for me.
“Thank god I’m not playing tomorrow or this could become a very necessary part of my pregame ritual,” I say lazily, shifting my arm enough so that I can see him better.
He laughs, and I catch sight of his perfect smile. My heart beats faster. “Have I created a monster?” he asks, lightness in his voice that I never want to leave.
For the first time, I think that maybe we can really do this. I don’t care if it has to be a secret. I just don’t want to be kept at arms’ length, never really knowing where his head’s at. And I want to know the good parts of him and the messy parts of him and all the parts in between.
I stretch my arm across the empty pillow next to my head, pushing my luck. “Lay with me?”
He pulls down the covers and crawls underneath the blankets. I do a less than impressive maneuver to join him, but it’s worth it. Our legs entangle, and he nestles against my chest.
I wonder if he can feel my heart beating a little too fast to be normal?
He starts running his fingers down my arm, tracing my tattoos. “You don’t exactly strike me as an inked kind of guy.”
My glower doesn’t have any intensity behind it. I’m too exhausted for that. “And why’s that?”
His hand rests on the frozen pond on my forearm. “You give things a lot of thought, and tattoos are… very permanent,” is what he settles on.
But I’m not offended. If anything, it’s crazy how well he knows me, even though we’ve only been in each other’s lives for a semester.
“Yeah, but it’s not like I have a donkey tattooed on my ass or something,” I defend, which makes him smile.
“You’re right. No ass on your ass.” He slides his hand under the covers and squeezes my butt. “I would have noticed that by now. And I would have been mad as hell if you ruined that perfect specimen.”
A pleased warmth settles in me. “You like my ass?”
He clocks me with a look. “That perfect bubble butt that’s just begging for me to sink my teeth into? Yeah, I like your ass, Asher. I didn’t really think you were the type to fish for compliments.”
I’m not, usually.
And I’d tell him that except the warmth has morphed into heat, licking through my veins. “You… haven’t mentioned that before.”
“We hadn’t discussed–specifically–what was on or off the table, but you’ve opened a whole new door for us tonight.
Don’t think that I won’t be repaying the favor soon.
” He moves his hand slowly, his fingers skimming along the curve of my ass.
He’s keeping a very respectable–and frustrating–amount of distance from where I want him to touch me.
I flex my hips so that one of my ass cheeks is entirely in the palm of his hand, and his index finger presses against my hole.
Suddenly, I’m not feeling exhausted anymore.
Even with the small amount of pressure that he’s applying, it feels incredible. My cock thinks so too, and I start to get hard again.
Chase can feel me swelling against him, and he looks down between us, smirking. He shifts his focus back to my face, which I’m sure is making all kinds of crazy expressions. He doesn’t take his eyes off of me as he begins to move his finger in intentional circles.
My mind blanks out. How can this feel so fucking good? He’s barely touching me.
“Fuck,” I groan. I’m trying to focus on my breathing. Inhale, then exhale. I feel like I could bust all over again, but I don’t want to finish too quickly.
I almost cry out when he shifts away from me and stands up quickly. His own arousal is straining through his shorts, too, and I can’t help but focus on the hard bulge through his shorts, even if I want to weep with frustration.
He walks toward his bag, placed neatly on a luggage rack across the room. “I think I have some lube in here.”
I should be excited at his words, but instead, my stupid mouth jealously says, “Planning on getting lucky this weekend?”
For as much as I want him to be mine, he isn’t. I just hope that the quiet words we say to one another behind closed doors are enough for both of us.
And I think that maybe they are when he gives me that smile again. “More like me, myself, and I,” he says, returning to the bed.
He slides under the covers, pulling them down so that we’re exposed to our hips. The room is cold, and goosebumps break out across my skin. I’m not sure if it’s because of the air conditioning or what’s about to happen.
After squeezing a small amount of lube on his hand, he rubs the wetness around, coating his fingers. “Warming it up,” he says matter-of-factly.
“That’s… smart,” I say, my excitement ratcheting up.
God, I fucking want this. I want him.
He could tease me. Make me beg for it. I’m sure that he knows it, too.
But instead, he slides his arm around me, pulling us together.
Our foreheads are almost pressed together, our breaths mingling.
He leans forward and kisses me. And when his fingers find their way back to me and he pushes against my hole with purpose, I finally understand what the phrase ‘dying a happy man,’ means.