14. Malcolm #2
I reposition so I’m looking at his face. I’m propped up on one elbow with my other hand on his chest. “The situation’s a little different now.”
His scowl deepens. “Say more.”
“Okay…I don’t know if she’s what I want. Sexually .”
“Is she experimenting too?”
“Fuck if I know. And please don’t use the word experimenting again. That’s not what this is.”
“Exploring, whatever?—”
“Maybe don’t try to define it unless you’re a hundred percent sure. Then you can tell me all about myself.”
Half his mouth tilts up in a smile. “Yeah, all right. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
I stare at him a long moment, hoping for something.
He threads his fingers through the hair on the back of my head and draws closer, pressing his mouth gently to mine in the briefest, softest kiss. My eyelids flutter shut, but just when I think he might do it again, he’s resting back on the pillow. “You don’t have to stop,” I say.
“Let’s pace ourselves.”
Yeah, no. Fuck that. “I can pace you,” I say. “I can make you go super slow.”
His eyes sparkle, the light from my lamp catching his irises just right. God, he’s fucking gorgeous. The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
I descend on his silent mouth, giving him a kiss that’s slow and tender and deliberate. I keep my eyes open and watch his fail to close. I smile against his mouth. “Trust me,” I tell him.
“It’s not you.”
I don’t believe that. “Sure it’s not…” I kiss him again, longer and taking slightly more lip between mine.
His eyes finally close, and I shut mine, too, focusing on the velvety feel of his mouth and desperately wanting in.
With my hand still on his chest, I feel his breath catch, and that makes mine do the same thing.
We sink deeper into the kiss, his fingers mapping my face, feeling my cheekbone and jawline, the corner of my eye, my brow.
Our legs, still interlocked, move, and our hips align.
I wish we could lose the pants. I want to feel him everywhere.
I’ve never craved the feel of someone’s skin as much as I crave Ryan’s tonight.
Pacing myself is fucking hard. But I’m not pacing myself—I’m pacing him.
I lick lightly into his mouth before sucking his lower lip.
He lets out a soft moan. I grind my erection into his hip and carefully nudge his with my knee, reminding him that I’m here to grind against, should he decide he needs it, too.
He grips my side and then lets go to rest his hand there.
I want to press it down again, make him touch me harder, but he’s treating me like I’m glass.
I know what I need to do, but last night when I thought about it, I hesitated.
I talked myself out of it, and then I had my freakout.
But today, after telling him as much as I told him, which, I admit wasn’t much, but it’s more than I’ve ever told anyone, I must have broken through whatever was holding me back, because it would take a bulldozer to stop me now.
I put my hands over the placket of his jeans and thumb the button. “Please?” I ask as I kiss his chin.
His hand covers mine.
“Please, Ry.”
He lifts his hand, and I unbutton his jeans, then unzip them. He lets out a shaky breath as I kiss my way down his throat and use my leg to make room for my body to rest between his thighs.
He’s got his hand in my hair, not letting go. He’s not forcing anything—just hanging onto me. “Take it out?” I ask.
“Mal…”
“Please.”
“You don’t have to,” he says.
The fuck I don’t. There’s so much strain in his voice, it’s like he’s trying to lift up a car. Besides, we’re not just gonna kiss and hug for the rest of the night. I took two showers, and he looks like a goddamn wet dream. “I really want to,” I tell him in case he needs me to spell it out.
“Are you sure?”
I must look sure enough because he reaches into his maroon underwear and pulls out his cock. This is my first time seeing it. The jeans last night hid a lot from my hand. A lot .
TikTok isn’t the right place for him. He belongs on Only Fans.
He’d make thousands of dollars showing this beautiful thing off.
It’s seriously an exquisite dick. I’m immediately jealous.
Mine’s fine—it’s whatever. It’s not embarrassing or anything, and requires the occasional position adjustment during sex, but his?
Fuck. I’ve seen dildos less perfect. As I’m staring at it, a drop of precum forms at the tip. That’s mine. He made that for me .
I take it with the flat of my tongue and taste, and oh Jesus, oh fuck yeah , I like that, too. I like all of this. This is good. It’s right . I mouth the crown of his cock, kissing it and getting it wet.
“Oh, God,” he groans, sounding only halfway okay with the fact that this is happening.
His free hand floats nearby my head, like he might steal his dick back any second.
I take more into my mouth before he can change his mind, letting him slide down the length of my tongue and settle just before I have to open my throat.
He lets go of my hair, and I glance up at him.
He’s staring at me with his lips parted and his chest rising and falling quickly.
His eyes look darker. Hooded. He’s fisting the comforter near his thigh.
I hold his gaze as I take him deeper, gagging slightly on my first attempt, but so fucking determined not to the second time, that I get way farther.
He grunts and curses while I choke him down.
His dick throbs in my mouth, and I draw back to take a gasping breath, eyes watering so hard, tears are pooling on my cheekbones.
“I’m close,” he whispers, looking concerned. He’s warning me. “Don’t make me come in your mouth.”
That’s just stupid. I shake my head and go down on him again, sucking harder and glaring at him like this is his punishment for underestimating me.
“Mal… Mal …”
As his copious precum coats my tongue, I force my way to his base, taking a deep breath through my nose before burying my face in his pubic hair. I figure this proves I’m not straight. Deep throating first time out of the gate? Looks like I’ve finally found something I’m passionate about.
I gulp around him until he comes with a shout, and I keep swallowing until I’m lightheaded and breathless and I’ve memorized the clean, salty taste of him.
I pull back, but I don’t stop sucking or licking, I keep kissing his cock until I’m sure I’ve got every drop of what he made for me.
When I’m satisfied I’m done, and he’s a jerky, quivering mess, I push myself up and press a kiss to his lower abs, right between the cum gutters. He tastes good here, too.
He grabs my arm and pulls me up. “Come in my mouth,” he tells me.
I don’t question him or hesitate because finally . Fuck. I’ve been focused on taking him—proving something, but I’m edged so bad, this could be messy. Still, I need it like I need him in my bed right now. I shove my hand into my sweatpants, bring out my cock, and straddle his chest.
He grabs my ass, working the pants down in the back to grasp my bare skin, which feels so fucking perfect, I’m that much closer.
He parts his lips, and I slide my dick between them.
The sight of that is phenomenal, but the feel of his tongue on my sensitive flesh sends a jolt up my spine and puts a clench in my legs.
Once again, I come nearly the instant I’m inside him.
He shuts his eyes and drinks me down, his hands kneading my ass cheeks as I catch my overloaded body on the headboard and gasp my way through the mind-blowing release.
“Oh fuck, oh shit…” I pant as powerful bursts shoot into his perfect mouth.
He looks drugged, rapturous, and lewd with his lips stretched around my less than perfect but still decently fat dick. I pull out before I overload and put myself at risk for a seizure or something. I’m literally that fried. He licks his lips and swallows before he opens his eyes to look up at me.
There—I paced us both. No need to freak out.
We’re on the same page. I sit back on his thighs and pull up my sweatpants so he doesn’t have to watch my dick slowly deflate.
It’s much better looking when it’s hard.
His probably looks good all the time. I’ll take a peek in a minute to prove my theory, but right now, I’m more interested in his sexy as fuck face. “Okay?” I ask evenly.
He nods, swallowing again. He’s got his hands on top of my thighs, and I like them there, too.
“Need anything?” I ask. “Water?”
“I’m good. You?”
“I’m good. Wanna watch the show?”
Bewildered, he blinks a few times. “Sure.”
“Want some sweatpants?”
“No, I’m all right. ”
“They’re more comfortable. You’re not planning to go, are you?” Yeah, I get it’s a leading and slightly manipulative question, but it’s safe to say I’ve lost all sense of shame when it comes to him.
“I can stay a little longer, and these pants are fine.”
“You’re making this harder than it has to be.” I lie down and snuggle up to him again. I get a glimpse of his cock before he tucks it back into his underwear, and yep. It’s a motherfucking work of art.
That better not be the last time I ever get to see it. I’ll be so pissed. He only thought I was an asshole in high school. Wait until he sees what I’m like when I actually know what I want and can’t have it.
At least this time, when I tangle our legs, he turns in bed to face me, which I take as permission to kiss him again.
He’s way more chill about it this time, leisurely kissing me back as I explore the taste of myself mixed with him. What a fucking turn on. How did I ever manage to delude myself for any length of time—much less years —that this wasn’t for me. “This is so good,” I accidentally say out loud.
I get a peck on the cheek and the loss of his tongue in my mouth for that.
He’s looking at me like I’m a puzzle he can’t figure out. I let him, content enough to be in his arms, close to him. Not alone.
“Anyway,” I say, “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I can’t stay the night. We have work tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“If you ever wanna get out of here, though…you can spend the night at my place. It’s closer to work.”
My stomach does something wild when he says that. Flutters of something—excitement, pleasure, promise? It’s the most generous thing he’s said to me since…well… before . I want more of it. Unfortunately, he looks like he’s about to take it back .
“I just mean?—”
I interrupt him, just in case. “That’d be great. I can sleep on that beanbag.”
He laughs, and that, beyond everything, makes my night. “You really need a better place.”
“I know. It was slim pickings when I moved here. Every place I liked and could afford was taken by the time I said I wanted to fill out an application.”
“Well, it sucks.”
“I know. Thanks for coming anyway.”
“You’re welcome. We still have a lot of money to make.”
“Yeah. Right.”
An explosion on screen catches both of our attention, and it’s a great episode.
We maneuver ourselves so we can both watch, and after that one ends, he stays for one more.
But then I’m walking him out. At the door, he doesn’t give me another hug, which I totally understand.
Really. We’ve been holding each other for three hours.
But he does give my forearm a squeeze and says, “I’ll text you when I get home. In case you’re freaking out again.”
“I won’t.”
“We still used to be stepbrothers, Mal.”
“But we aren’t anymore. I got over that like two hours ago.”
He gives his head a disbelieving shake. “All right. Well, if you do freak out after I go, just don’t be a dick tomorrow.”
“You know what would put me in a good mood?” I ask.
“What?”
“If you asked me back to your place after work. To film content or whatever.”
“I go to the gym after work,” he says. “But yeah. Maybe after that.”
“Maybe doesn’t guarantee a good mood.”
He smirks. “I’ll take my chances.”