Chapter 16 #3
I didn’t give it any thought before, but something inside me thinks that if I had, I would have had that little moment of stomach-twisting anxiety about what it might mean to taste another man’s cum, what it would say or prove about me.
But right now, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about any of that.
There’s no question. I earned Callan’s cum and I fucking want it.
I moan around his shaft and use my free hand to grab his ass cheek and pull him towards me, hoping he gets the message.
I guess body language translates just fine between gay and kind-of-straight-ish, because he lets out another low, horny sound and his cock starts to pulse.
The first rope of his cum splatters onto my tongue and my hips arch off the bed again, my balls clenching instantly and my cock spasming right along with his.
I suck and lap and moan, coaxing burst after burst of his release to flood my mouth while mine paints my stomach and runs down my knuckles. His thighs flex and his moans echo through my bedroom while mine are all muffled but just as satisfied.
I stroke myself until my balls are drained and my cock starts to get oversensitive, still sucking and lapping at his until it softens and slips out from between my lips. Callan groans again and climbs off of me, flopping onto the bed.
I tug the sheets loose and pull some towards my face to wipe the saliva off my chin, then use them to mop the cum off of my belly.
I laugh, waiting for him to make some kind of joke about how straight guys don’t usually suck dick that well, but he doesn’t say anything like that.
We just lie there and catch our breath for a few minutes before he sits up and gives me a charming, crooked smile.
“Do you want me to get out of here or do you still want to watch the movie?”
Does he want to leave? Will I seem like I’m being clingy or something if I tell him to stay? I frown, trying to work out if there’s any kind of hidden meaning to the question, and he chuckles.
“It’s not a trick question, man. I’ll stay and hang out. I just wanted to make sure you wanted me sticking around.”
“Uh, yeah.” I clear my throat and sit up, scooting back to the edge of the bed and looking around for my clothes.
They’re scattered across the floor, mixed with Callan’s in a way that almost makes it hard to tell them apart.
That does something weird to my chest that getting naked and sucking his dick didn’t.
“You alright?” He stands up and tugs his jock and shorts back on, then his shirt.
I shake my head to snap myself out of it. “I’m cool.”
I stand up too, grabbing my shorts without bothering to pick up my briefs and pulling them back on. I can’t be bothered with my shirt either, so I just leave it at the shorts and follow him back out into the living room.
The movie is still playing and Slapshot is snoring on the floor with a bit of orange glaze on his snout and two suspiciously clean plates on the coffee table.
My phone is still lying where I dropped it, and, oh yeah, there’s my shirt too.
I don’t bother to pick either one up. Callan’s is on the coffee table, and he checks it while I reset the movie to where it was when we stopped watching, right around where Daniel meets Miagi.
“Ugh,” Callan groans, pocketing his phone after looking at it.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing. The guys are just trying to rope me into going to Crossing Swords again tomorrow night.” He waves a hand dismissively.
With the taste of his cum lingering on my tongue and whatever weird feeling I had looking at our clothes still aching in my chest, a strange, possessive heat flares up inside me.
“Can I come?”
He arches an eyebrow at me and smirks. “It’s a gay club, Fergie.”
“So? Are they going to check at the door and turn me away if I don’t have my official rainbow membership card? Would a detailed description of how I just sucked your dick get me a one-night pass, at least?” I deadpan, and he snorts a laugh.
“No, I just meant why would you want to go?”
Because I don’t want you hooking up with anyone else.
I’m not about to admit that out loud though.
I don’t even know why I care. It’s not like he’s my boyfriend.
I’m not even gay. I don’t think. I don’t know, jury is still out, I guess.
But either way, the thought of some stranger in a club with his hands all over Callan makes me want to start swinging.
Instead of saying any of that, I shrug. “Just want to see what it’s like, I guess. Is that okay? Do you not want me there?”
An amused smile flickers on his face and he shrugs. “No, it’s cool. You should come.”
“Okay, cool,” I say before he can take it back, and then I hit play on the movie and settle onto the couch.
If I end up sitting closer to Callan than usual, letting his arm rest along the back, almost like he’s putting it around my shoulders, the heat of his body radiating against me, well it’s only because the middle cushion of the couch is the most comfortable.
“It’s whatever, Fergie. Don’t stress about it.
” His words from earlier echo in my head, but for some reason I can’t figure out, they don’t sit quite right.
But I take his advice anyway and try not to worry about it.
What’s to worry about anyway? We’ve got 80s nostalgia movies and no-strings hookups, life doesn’t get much better than that, right?