Chapter Ten #3
I take a steadying breath, willing my senses to come back to me. "On your back," I finally say, not without mental resistance.
He does just that, his legs bent and spread slightly, and he's propped on his forearms, these huge brown eyes still peering right into mine. I drop to my knees before him, and it's not until I tear open the pocket of lube and squeeze its contents into my open palm that Xander seems to notice.
"I thought you—" his voice is raspy, sharp as sandpaper. He clears his throat, but that doesn't really make it better. "I thought you said you didn't carry lube on you?"
I toss the wrapper and warm the liquid between my palms. "You asked me to start, didn't you?"
"God." He closes his eyes and drops his head back, his long neck straining. I can't stop myself from leaning down and tracing my tongue along its side, the stubble that has already started to pepper it, giving my tongue an electric massage.
On purpose, I move to suck the spot right under his jaw at the exact same time I lower my hips, align our cocks once again and then wrap my slippery palm around both of them.
Xander's throat vibrates against my lips as he groans, the sound loud and deep echoing off the empty vastness of the stadium.
I give him a few strong, fast strokes, each drawing the same intense, deep-cutting sound out of his throat before I still my hand, squeezing our cocks to the point of pain and instead drag my entire body up.
"Oh, fuck." Xander's head shoots up, his hair brushing against my cheek before falling back again.
I give his neck one more nibble and lift up my upper body to look at him.
Our eyes meet, and I expect him to close his, or to look away, or maybe even kiss me just to avoid my gaze.
Instead, he stares at me intently, his parted lips shivering with every drag of my cock against his, before he deadpans, "Faster. Go faster, damn it."
What rips out of my throat is a roar as I tighten my grip and roll my hips with fresh ferocity, hoping the tiny amount of lube will save us from chafing tomorrow.
Not that the possibility of pain could change a damn thing right now, as the intense pleasure already rolls through me in waves, building up, rising higher and higher every time the head of my cock slides against his shaft, and the only thing that could stop me right now is if Xander asked me to stop.
But all that Xander seems to be asking for is more as he bends his legs further, giving himself leverage and bucks his hips up, building even more pressure within me.
I'm looking at his face without really seeing it, the pictures inside my mind more vivid than reality as I imagine I'm fucking him, giving it to him with everything I've got, making him squirm beneath me.
And Xander does squirm, here in the realm of reality, and although I can hardly see it, I can feel it against my body, his chest jerking up, meeting mine, sweaty skin brushing against sweaty skin.
I barely register when Xander's hands make their way to my ass, fingernails digging into my flesh as he pulls my hips down even more, and if I didn't have the physique I do, I would no longer be able to move.
"Yeah. Fuck yeah," Xander chants. "Go faster. I'm close."
Faster is not physically obtainable. Not with the way he's pulling me down. Not with the force I'm gripping our cocks with. So instead, I lean down and dive into his mouth, tongue first. His lips pull tight around mine and when he sucks on my tongue, I lose it.
I summon all the will I still possess, every scrap of restraint that's still in me and with an effort matching the one of squeezing that twelfth rep when you're only supposed to go eight, I delay my orgasm, my thigh muscles on fire as I drag my cock against his again, and again, and again, however many times he needs to get there.
Xander needs four.
Four rolls of my hips against his and he groans a curse, the sound coming deep from within him as he releases the brutal grip on my ass and his body convulses.
I lose track of his actions then, my orgasm hitting me stronger than my will to experience his.
A series of grunts shoot out of me and my body freezes, every single muscle spasming as I shoot my load, my cock jerking against Xander's inside my fist.
I'm fighting to blink him back to focus while the last of my pleasure still rolls through me.
There you are.
Xander's lying completely slack, chest expanding violently as he takes deep lungfuls of air, one hand resting on the grass above his head. His eyes are closed and there's this peculiar look of post-orgasm bliss on his face.
Once my brain registers the picture, I lose control of my limbs, my body falling heavily atop his, as though it was waiting for a confirmation of a job well done. Xander gasps when I crush him, then laughs.
"If I'm too heavy," I mumble into his neck between breaths, "you'll have to roll me off you somehow. I don't think I have the strength to move right now."
He laughs again this short, clipped but genuine laughter and drops his hand on my back without grace, the action indicating he doesn't have full control over his body either. "No worries. You're just heavy enough." Then, he adds, "You're the King of Cups."
"What?" I can't decide if it's him that's talking gibberish, or my brain that still lacks blood supply.
He puts his head on the back of my head and shakes his. "Nothing."
We lie like this for a few moments, and as soon as my muscles start cooperating again, I make the effort to lift up and sit on my knees, giving Xander's bones some much needed relief. Despite what he says, me lying down on anyone is a hazard.
"Mmm," I hum, taking in his naked body. "You're quite the sight."
Xander lazily opens his eyes and props himself up on his elbows, not without effort. He looks down at his stomach and winces. "I've nothing to wipe the cum off of me."
I try not to chuckle, but only partly succeed. "It'll dry out."
His eyes snap to mine and he grins, a row of straight white teeth showing. "You're gross. I like it."
I shake my head with a smile, move to haul my ass up, my body screaming like after a good workout and start gathering our clothes, discarded within a ten yard radius.
"Already?" Xander whines when I drop his purple shirt on his chest.
I pull on my pants, remove my phone from my pocket, and look at the screen. "It's four AM."
He sighs, but starts dressing up. "Don't they have earlier shifts in the club?"
"It's a night club."
"Alright, alright," he says as he buttons up his shirt before tucking in the bottom part. Besides looking a bit wrinkly, he's as good as new. "Guess I can become nocturnal for a while."
He strolls up to me once we're both finished dressing and stops mere inches from me. I make sure to lift my chin in order to appear even taller and bite my lip to stop myself from smiling. I know he hates it.
Xander fists my t-shirt, pulls sharply, and I have to lean down to prevent him from tearing it. He doesn't stop pulling before my mouth is just an inch from his. "So, Citizen Boo. I've been thinking—"
A high-pitched, nasty sounding squeak cuts him off and our heads snap left simultaneously. Another squeak, as the second wing of a giant barred door opens, followed by a bright, blinding stream of light lasering directly onto our faces.
I squint, while Xander says, "Shit. The janitor," and before I can suggest it, Xander does it, clutching my wrist and pulling, as both of us start running.
"Who's there?" A voice calls behind us as we dash through the field, hand in hand. At first I'm surprised Xander's able to keep up, even leaving me behind every so often, but then I remember he's a football player, which is, coincidentally, the reason we're here in the first place.
The janitor must have flipped some switches, giant reflectors switching on one by one, and by the time we reach the half-open tunnel, the same one we passed on our way here, the whole field is fully illuminated, bathing us in a harsh artificial glow.
We rush through the tunnel, footsteps echoing off the cement again, this time accompanied by the echo of laughter, and then Xander leads the way through the maze of tiny alleys.
We're still running, even though whoever was or wasn't chasing us must have given up a long time ago until we finally jump over a narrow stripe of grass, indicating the spot where the University threshold ends and the public sidewalk begins.
We come to a halt, leaning down, propping our palms on our knees, taking a second to catch our breaths, as if the grass provides some sort of magical wall, making us invisible to whomever might lurk on the other side.
I allow myself three deep inhales before I straighten up, determined to come to before Xander does. He follows suit immediately.
"Damn," he says, his breathing almost back to normal. Almost. "Two workouts in one night. I think I'm good for the rest of the week."
"Two, huh?" I raise a brow. "I don't remember you putting much effort into the first one."
He mocks offense before schooling his features, his eyes darting through the magical wall. "Think he saw us? As in, our faces?"
I shake my head. "No shot. Not unless he— Wait.
" I straighten up even more, the rest of the excess air escaping me, deflating me like a balloon when the realization hits.
"Are you asking because you're worried he saw you there in the middle of the night?
Or because you're worried he saw you there in the middle of the night with a man? "
Xander opens his mouth, then closes it, taking a second to evaluate my question. Then, he says, "I— I don't know. Both, I guess?"
Well, at least he's not trying to lie. But that's not enough. Not for me, anyway.
I scoff. "Figures." I run my palm over my face, and then slide it to the back of my neck. "Look, Xander… I think we should end it here. I don't think this is gonna work."
"Umm… What? What the fuck, man? Where is this coming from all of a su—"
"It's not all of a sudden, okay? It's not," I say a little too sharply and take a deep breath to lower my voice. "You're still questioning things. I just don't want to be anyone's test drive. I can't."
"You're not my test—"
"Xander?" I cut him off and take a step, so that I'm standing directly in front of him. "Look me in the eye and tell me you actually believe that."
He does, taking a long moment to peer deep into my eyes, saying…nothing. Again, a part of me is grateful he doesn't try to lie. And then, "The truth? The truth is, I don't know. Not yet, anyway."
"Yeah, that's how questioning works."
"And what's so wrong about that?" he snaps back.
He does have a point. I take another long, deep breath. "Nothing. There's nothing wrong with that. I'm just not the one to do it with."
Xander crosses his arms on his chest and lifts his chin, his posture challenging. "Give me one good reason." I open my mouth to do just that, but he cuts me off. "No, scratch that. One can be bullshit. Give me five. And they better be good," he demands.
And even though I don't really feel cheerful right now, I burst out laughing at his combativeness, at that joyful eagerness he seems to go through life with. "Well. I don't think I have five."
"Great." He nods, agreeing with himself again. "That's settled then. DQ this weekend. Or the next, depending on their schedule."
I blink, confused by the change of cadence and the weird sentence he just produced. "Huh?"
He rolls his eyes. "I refuse to say the words Ducking Quacks. It's a ridiculous name."
I burst out laughing again and shake my head in disbelief. It's as if every single night we meet he both gives me reasons to walk away and then takes away my power to do just that.
"It's settled then," Xander agrees with himself. Again. "I'll do some googling and text you the deets. And now I'm going to walk back to my car, and you'll wait here a few minutes before you go, because walking together would spoil my dramatic exit. And you better pick up your phone."
He turns on his heel and walks away. I couldn't follow him if I tried, my mind foggy, body stunned.
I shove my hands in my pockets, sigh, and look up at the sky.
Light blue stripes tear across the navy fabric, and the first ray of sunshine peeks from behind the curtain, ready to emerge.
It's not nighttime anymore, yet I'm still without my power.