Chapter 14 #2
Callan’s nose bumps against mine and I realize just how close we are. Is he going to kiss me? Do I want him to? I can’t think clearly enough right now to figure out the answer to that, so I focus on what’s easy instead.
“Touch me,” I murmur, canting my hips and making my first attempt to actually move my hand on his dick.
I’ve never paid much attention to the way the skin moves over the hard core of my erection when I jerk myself off, or the pulse in the veins that line my shaft, but with Callan’s cock in my hand, it’s impossible not to notice all the surprising details.
When I jerk off, it’s business, just taking care of a need. But this… this is kind of sexy.
It takes me a few awkward strokes to find a rhythm that drags another moan from deep in his chest. Fuck, that’s hot.
A dribble of sticky precum oozes onto my palm when I reach his tip again, and I try a trick a woman drove me wild with once, giving a little twist of my wrist in a corkscrew motion around his crown before sliding my hand down his length again.
“Fuck,” he grunts, our noses bumping again as his lips move a fraction of an inch closer to mine. My whole body feels like a live wire, jumpy and exhilarated and ready to fucking go off. “That’s good, Fergie.”
Goddamn. It’s such simple praise, but it makes my knees tremble and a needy feeling pulse low in my gut.
“Touch my cock, Callan. Please. Please, touch my cock,” I beg breathlessly, jerking my hips forward again, bumping the tip of his cock against mine through the tight fabric of my pants and gasping quietly at the unexpected thrill of the brief contact.
“I’ve got you.” The low, gravelly tone of his voice makes goose bumps pebble on my overheated skin.
He lets his body sag against mine, chest to chest, thighs to thighs, belly to belly as he shoves his hand down the front of my pants and wraps his fingers around my cock with all the confidence and finesse my handjob is still lacking.
Pressed together like this, it’s harder for me to stroke him, but that doesn’t stop me.
We fall into a primal, desperate rhythm, grinding and stroking and not quite kissing, but fuck, his lips are so close.
Without me consciously thinking about it, my free hand starts pawing at Callan’s broad, sturdy chest, slipping down to grab a handful of his hard, full ass, dancing lower for a curious feel of his hairy thighs.
Our grunts and moans mingle in the air between us, filling the same space as our humid, panting breaths. That half an inch expanse between our lips might as well be a mile for how impossible it feels for me to cross it.
My cock throbs in his fist, my balls tightening with every expert stroke. I match his rhythm, his precum running over my hand in wet drips now.
“I’m right there, Fergie. Fuck, I’m so close,” he growls, his hips snapping faster.
Just hearing those words in his deep, throaty voice pushes me closer to the edge.
My cock swells stiffer in his hand and I grab a fistful of his too-tight jersey as I stroke him furiously, filled with the desperate, aching need to be the reason for his next moan, for his next gasp, for the way his body is bound to tremble and quake when he finally lets go.
Callan groans my name between clenched teeth, and his thick, hard cock starts to pulse in my grasp.
Oh fuck, it’s really happening. The euphoria that washes through my body is so intense that it takes me a few extra seconds to realize my balls are tightening and my toes are curling not just because I’m so damn excited that I’m getting him off, but because I’m coming too.
“Fuck,” I roar, fucking feverishly into the tight tunnel of his fingers as I stroke him through every hard, throbbing pulse of his orgasm.
Thick ropes of his cum splatter my pants and my belly before they slow and start to run down my knuckles.
My eyes roll back and I sag against his sturdy body, breathless and still whining under my heavy, uneven breathing as I chase every last aftershock of the endless pleasure still coursing through me.
Eventually both our hands still and the moment snaps into crystal clarity. I’m covered in his cum and my own, he’s still half-dressed, and we’re both breathless and sweaty in a locker room that’s technically public and that anyone could walk into at any time.
I wheeze out a laugh and Callan pushes himself upright so he’s no longer leaning against me.
“Not sure laughter was the reaction I was hoping for.” He pulls his hands out of my pants, and the sight of his cum-drenched fingers and palm sends me into an even wilder fit of laughter. I double over, trying to catch my breath.
“Sorry. I’m not laughing at you, this is just fucking insane,” I manage to say once I get ahold of myself.
“Did you like it though?”
All the amusement melts away, and I’m left with an aching, confused feeling in my chest. I nod.
“I don’t know what any of this means, but yeah, I fucking liked it.”
“Don’t overthink it,” he advises. “I need a shower and some food.”
The easy transition to something normal and tangible makes not overthinking it feel a hell of a lot easier, so I nod again.
“I think I’ve earned a cheat meal for getting out on the ice today,” I say.
“Hell yeah, you do. What’s your favorite cheat meal?
” he asks, and while we both change out of our ruined clothes, I tell him about this burger place near Andersonville that’s fucking incredible.
I don’t know how I can have my hand on his dick one minute and be talking about burgers the next, but it’s nice. Like, really fucking nice.
And I’m definitely going to try not to overthink it.