Chapter 13 #2
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I asked, looking down at him.
His pupils dilated, then contracted. His throat bobbed with a swallow.
The corner of his mouth twitched once, twice.
I shifted my weight back slightly, creating space between us.
My hands hovered at my sides, palms open.
“You suggested this,” I said softly. “But we can always—”
He answered by hooking his fingers into my waistband, cool fingertips grazing the sensitive skin below my navel.
“Lift your hips,” he commanded, voice lower than before.
I lifted my hips, and he pulled my sweats and boxers down together, the fabric sliding past my knees.
I kicked them away, freeing my legs completely, making enough space for him to move freely and comfortably.
Beckett’s fingers wrapped around my cock, his thumb pressing lightly against the underside.
His touch was gentle, more of an exploration.
His shoulders dropped an inch, then another, as he exhaled.
He blinked twice, the space between his eyebrows smoothing out.
His lips fell open, just enough for the edge of his bottom teeth to catch the light.
When he leaned forward, the warmth of his breath raised goosebumps across my thighs.
His tongue traced hesitantly along the underside of my shaft before he took me into his mouth, those beautiful lips stretching around me.
I couldn’t help the sound that escaped my throat, my hips twitching with the effort to stay still as warmth and wetness surrounded me.
The sensation transported me back to my first time—that same overwhelming urgency, that same feeling of being seconds from coming undone.
Not because he knew what he was doing—he clearly didn’t—but because it was him, because of everything between us.
After all those years of longing, of wanting something deeper, now he knelt before me, his dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he hollowed them around me.
His enthusiasm betrayed his inexperience—he tried to take too much at once, his throat constricting in protest before he pulled back, gasping.
He pulled back, gasping for air, a string of saliva connecting his lips to my cock.
“Jesus, Theo,” he whispered, voice hoarse.
“You’re—I can’t—” He swallowed hard, his gaze traveling up to meet mine.
Something vulnerable flickered in those eyes, something that made my chest tighten.
His hands gripped my thighs as he caught his breath.
“I want to make this good for you, but I can’t deep-throat.
” The raw sincerity in his voice threatened to unravel me completely. “Shit. The camera. Get your phone out.”
We’d agreed to film and gone straight to the action. Did that mean our dynamic was changing? Until he mentioned it, the camera hadn’t even crossed my mind. It had faded into the background as if it didn’t matter at all.
Which meant he’d been willing to be with me without it… right?
I blinked a few times before my brain finally caught up. Then I grabbed my camera, turning on the video and angling my phone toward him.
Beckett was smiling. Bright. Easy. Like none of this was complicated at all.
I lifted my hand and cupped his cheek, brushing my thumb across his soft skin. Before Beckett went broke, he’d spent ridiculous amounts of money on skincare routines and facials, always chasing the best skin money could buy.
Now I’d gladly spend that money on him myself. I’d spoil him, give him everything he wanted. If he’d let me. He wouldn’t be easy to convince.
“No one says you have to deep throat, straight boy. That’s my job. Just put your hand where your mouth can’t reach, and focus on pleasuring the head. Choking and gagging is hot, but I don’t want to hurt you.”
Beckett’s eager response to my touch sent sparks through my body. The way he yielded so naturally made my breath catch—though watching Asher command that same surrender in him was even more intoxicating.
When he shifted his attention to my instructions, his inexperienced enthusiasm more than made up for any lack of technique.
His hand found a rhythm along my shaft while his mouth explored the sensitive head with curious dedication.
Each time his tongue traced the ridge or dipped into the slit, my thighs tensed involuntarily.
I steadied myself by threading fingers through his hair, my other hand maintaining a grip on my phone, angling for the perfect shot.
“So good for me, baby,” I cooed. Beckett’s throat tightened as he hummed, sending a current up my spine that made my toes curl against the hardwood floor.
Just as things were starting to pick up, Beckett’s mouth froze at the sound of the door.
The hinges creaked, and I glanced up to see Asher’s silhouette in the doorway.
My stomach clenched. Beckett’s fingers dug into my thighs, his breath hot against my skin.
His eyes darted to the door, then back to me, pupils blown wide.
Asher stood motionless, keys dangling from his fingers. His gaze traveled from my flushed face down to where Beckett knelt between my legs, and his throat worked as he swallowed.
“Holy shit,” Asher whispered, his voice rough. He dropped his bag with a thud. “Don’t stop on my account.” He took a step forward, licking his lips. “Room for one more?”
Beckett’s mouth curved upward, and the knot between my shoulder blades loosened.
“Of course,” I said. Asher’s pupils dilated as he stared at Beckett, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. “I can take care of you while he takes care of me.”
“No,” Beckett’s voice cracked. He swallowed hard, fingers fidgeting with his shirt hem.
“I want—with Asher. Please. And he could—with you?” The question hung in the air between us, his gaze darting between our faces, cheeks flushed pink.
He hadn’t even asked in complete sentences, but we both knew what he wanted.