10. Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
Hugo
A xel Freaking Townsend was sitting in my tent next to me. In the top ten of never going to happen in my life , this would’ve been the number one. Actually, meeting Beyoncé would’ve been at the very top. Being alone with Axel was pretty high on my hypothetical list.
Until tonight. Well, if I was honest, yesterday while we’d talked, I’d imagined more time alone with him. When we’d kissed, I’d imagined more…of everything.
Renee’s snores carried into our tent.
Axel met my gaze.
“She’ll go like that all night. Both of them wear industrial earplugs.”
“I can see why. You must as well. I mean, I get you were worried…but I think there’s very little chance we’re going to wake your friends.” He leaned toward me. “I can be very quiet. Like a church mouse.”
That made me smile. Only the lantern illuminated the tent. Axel sat across from me, hunched and adorably too big and lanky for the space. But he was clearly trying to be natural. Which also made me grin.
“Okay…do we just…” He indicated my crotch.
I handed him one of the two bottles of water I’d snagged from the cooler before we’d come in here.
“But if I drink, I might have to piss, and that would be…”
“Unfortunate?”
He glared.
I laughed. “A sip, Axel, to relax.”
“This isn’t booze.”
“No, it most definitely isn’t. I’d never offer you any alcohol we have with us. I take your sobriety as seriously as you do.” I took a sip of water.
He followed suit.
“You know…” I played with the neck of the bottle.
“Yes…” He cocked his head. “You want to ask me something.”
“Well… You don’t happen to remember those songs you used to write.”
“Songs that I used to…” The moment he remembered was very clear. “You recall that? After all this time?”
“You were one of my most talented students, Axel. Of course I remember.”
“But why bring it up now?”
Hugo considered. “Because, I suppose, it’s a way of showing you that I never forgot you—in a student/teacher way. Those songs had an impact on me.”
“Okay, that’s been a nice reminiscence down memory lane. Let’s forget this entire conversation.” He scooted closer to me. “Because there are definitely other things I’d rather be doing.”
For just an instant, I wished I’d brushed my teeth. Except I hadn’t known I was going to see Axel. Like, at all. He’d just had the biggest night of his career…how was I supposed to know he’d come and haunt the food trucks? “Did you seek me out tonight?”
He laughed. “Did I hang around great-smelling delicacies in the hopes of being fed? You better believe it.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Hell no. I ate my ice cream before and then I ate your ice cream just now. So I’m not hungry. For food.” He scooted even closer.
Okay, no mistaking what he meant. Shelve the discussion—you always did have a lousy sense of timing.
Arguing with that would’ve been pointless because the words were the absolute truth.
Axel drew his fingers along my forehead, down my cheek—taking time to run his nails through my beard—and then he cupped my jaw. He drew me forward, so I leaned toward him.
Our lips touched. Very gentle. Just a light brushing. No pressure. No angst. No needing to violently come together. Shouldn’t there be? Shouldn’t we be ripping our clothes off? Except he’d had years to consider this possibility, if his words were to be believed. I’d had just over twenty-four hours.
He snagged the hem of my T-shirt. We broke apart long enough for him to yank it over my head.
Figuring reciprocity was in order, I did the same for him. In the lamplight, his chest shone. He had only a smattering of chest hair. I had a bit more, but I wasn’t as hairy as, for example, Copeland. The guy gave Bigfoot a run for his money.
Axel tentatively reached out to place his hand over my heart. “It’s racing.”
“It’s…been a long time.”
Slowly, he traced his fingers down my chest, lower to my not-so-chiseled abs, and then over my jeans to cup my rather-interested cock. “You haven’t forgotten everything.”
“Uh…no.” I could’ve argued that my erection was merely a physiological reaction to being touched, but that wasn’t the case—and I knew it. This hardness was a reaction to being touched by him. Again…not something I’d contemplated, but something my body was completely onboard with. My mind struggled to catch up, though. This was Axel. My former student. Former being the operative word, but still a hurdle I struggled to climb over.
He held my gaze as he unbuttoned my jeans and slid the zipper down. Then he slid his hand under my briefs to grasp me intimately.
I nearly moaned in pleasure. Renee and Cope might be wearing industrial-grade earplugs, but that didn’t mean people walking by wouldn’t hear. And why should you fucking care? No one knows it’s Axel in here.
“Can I blow you?” He licked his lips. “I’ve never…”
“I was pretty clear on your definition of virgin . I was planning to give you a blow job.”
He closed one eye as if considering. “I would say learning technique is important, but this isn’t my first rodeo. Dumb expression that. Anyway, I’ve had blow jobs before.” He maneuvered so he was on his knees. “You lie down and I’ll straddle you.”
I hadn’t thought I could get harder. I was wrong.
“Oh, and take your jeans off. I know you’ll be cold—”
I grabbed his cheeks and yanked him toward me. I kissed him with all the pent-up passion and need that thrummed through my veins. “I’m already overheated.”
He rocked back on his heels while I inelegantly shuffled out of my jeans and underwear. The cold air pebbled my nipples, but my erection never flagged. I wanted this. Needed this. Would take whatever I could get and, hopefully, return the favor.
By the time I was lying on my back, he had his jeans off as well. “So I don’t scratch you.” His explanation made sense as he straddled me.
In the dim light, the outline of his erection in his boxer briefs—with a telltale wet spot at the tip—excited me ever more. I could get over the former student thing. I could get over the rockstar thing. What I couldn’t get over was Axel himself. So stunningly beautiful. And yet with depth I’d recognized the first day he walked into my music class.
First, he grasped me again. With just the right amount of pressure. Then, he ran his thumb around my tip, catching a drop of precum. He brought it to his mouth and sucked.
I grew even harder. “Axel.”
He grinned. “Yeah, I get it.” Then he positioned himself so he could take me in his mouth.
I wasn’t a virgin in this department. Although Gavin hadn’t enjoyed oral at all—too messy—he’d been willing to give on occasion. I’d exchanged a couple with guys after the end of my marriage. But all those memories faded as Axel swirled his tongue around my crown. He did very creative things that would’ve had me surging up if not for the last ounce of restraint I possessed. I wasn’t going to choke a guy performing his first blow job. That…was a step too far.
As he drew me in deeper, I struggled with the need to touch him versus the unwavering desire to come. His talented mouth was truly spectacular, and as he sucked—I bucked.
I didn’t mean to. But holding out was not going to be an option if he kept up his diligent work to bring me to a climax. “I’m coming, Axel. You should pull off, and—”
He sucked harder, scraping his teeth gently along my length.
In one epic moment, I moaned as my balls drew up and I emptied into his mouth. Pleasure crashed through me, seizing my body and overwhelming my senses. Time had no meaning as he continued to suck. I felt bruised and battered—but in a good way. In a way that only a truly awesome climax could make me feel. I pressed a hand over my mouth to stifle the harsh breaths.
He crawled up my body, removed my hand, and kissed me deeply.
I tasted myself on him, of course. But this was so much more. The carnality had me reaching my hand between our bodies, into his boxer briefs, and grabbing him.
He pulled back long enough to shove the briefs down before he guided my hand to his shaft. “Do it.” He said the words through gritted teeth—encouraging me where no encouragement was necessary.
He wanted this.
I needed this.
To bring him as much ecstasy as he’d just given me. I swiped precum from his tip, but it wasn’t enough.
“I’m going to hurt you.”
“Friction is my friend.” He snickered. “You think I haven’t been jerked off dozens of times with no lube? I don’t mind if it’s rough.” He grasped my hand and encouraged me to pick up the pace.
I replicated the motion—twisting, squeezing, and working to bring him to the brink as quickly as I could. Speed wasn’t always a thing. Nothing wrong with savoring and enjoying the moment. Here, though, I knew what he needed.
“I need to—”
“I know.”
“I’m going to…”
“Yes, please.” I tugged harder—worried about hurting him, but also knowing how badly he needed this. In essence, how much I did as well.
Moments later, he erupted, spurting cum all over my hand. His labored breaths tickled my neck as he quietly groaned. “Jesus, Hugo, best orgasm ever.”
Hearing my name on his lips did something to my insides. I’d only ever been Mr. Threadgold. Having something so intimate pass between us breached some kind of barrier. Knocked down a wall that had been erected fourteen years ago when he’d walked in…all gangly teenager with way too much angst and burden to be carried on his thin shoulders. The man he’d grown into was so very different. He tried to portray himself as not having a care in the world.
I knew differently. Probably always had.
After removing my hand, I drew it to my mouth and sucked.
“I’m going to get hard all over again.” He rubbed his soft cock against mine.
“Speak for yourself. Refractory periods are a thing for us old people.”
He smacked me—gently—upside the head. “You’re not old.”
“I’m older than you.”
After holding my gaze for a long moment, he reached over to snag a couple of tissues. “Too bad you don’t have the wet ones.”
I did…but outside and no way was I going outside to get them. I wiped my hands and tossed the used tissue on the corner. Then I shivered. “Older, but clearly not wiser.”
He chuckled. “You turn out the light, and I’ll get the sleeping bag. I like how you set it up like a bed. Almost like you were expecting me.”
This time, I chuckled. “Well, I don’t like being confined. I’m a restless sleeper.”
“Yeah. That reminds me…” He rifled through the clothes until he came up with his phone.
“What are you doing?” I wasn’t worried…more curious.
“Setting an alarm. Thornton likes to get up early. I’m hoping he’ll be exhausted after his extended sex session in the shower.”
“Extended?”
“Well, he and Ed used up about all the hot water.” He chuckled. “I had fun teasing them because that’s what a best friend’s for.”
Which came as a bit of a relief. I hoped fervently that whatever fallout there had been from the video, they’d moved past it. I wanted to ask what that meant for his relationship with his best friend, but I also didn’t want to open that wound if it was already healed.
He cuddled in against me. “Do we…you know…?”
“You know what?” I could play dense when I wanted to.
“Like…sleep…?”
“You set an alarm.”
“For buttfuck early in the morning. Like crack-of-dawn shit.”
“Because of Thornton.”
“And sometimes Ed. I might be able to pass off that I went for an early morning walk or some shit…but I’d be wearing the same clothes. I’m far too clean-obsessed for that.” He snorted.
“What?”
“Ed would laugh his ass off if he heard me say that. My room is always such a mess. But we have a cleaning service, right? Pauletta insists on that. Well, they should have something to clean…”
This time, I snorted. “That’s one approach, for sure. So disorganized or dirty?” Right, because this was the most important part of our postcoital discussion.
“Disorganized. Messy. Ed says…”
“Says,” I prompted.
“That I can’t smell my own funk?”
No missing the wince in his voice.
“You smell just fine to me. And I’m not like that. Human smells don’t bother me. Unless, like, you don’t bathe for months on end. Remember, I teach high school. Some kids don’t know to use deodorant. Some just can’t afford it. I work with what they bring into the classroom.” Speaking of…
“Tactful.” He snuggled into me as I still lay on my back.
Speaking of…
“So…” I stretched then secured my arm around his shoulder.
“Yeah?” He tucked his head into the crook of my arm. With his hand, he started to play with my chest hair. He’d yet to see it in full light. The hair was much darker than on my head. Nearly light brown. When I was younger, I’d wished my hair was that color instead of the brilliant auburn. That might’ve also been because Gavin once made a comment about wishing I didn’t stand out so much.
Douchebag.
I cleared my throat. “I wanted to talk to you about those songs you wrote.”
“Seriously? I thought we went over this.” He let out a breath of air that ghosted over my nipples.
I angled the open sleeping bag so it covered the shoulder he wasn’t resting his head on. The night air had grown colder, especially against my rapidly cooling skin. “We did…just…” I swallowed. “They were really good songs. Do you remember how you used to bring lyrics, and we’d compose together? And how sometimes you’d bring a melody already in your mind?”
“Ed was there too.”
“I know…but his stuff had a much harder edge. I’m talking about the ballads you used to bring.” I shrugged. “A lot of teenage angst. So good.”
“They were lovesick teenage garbage.” He shivered.
Assuming he was getting cold, I pulled the sleeping bag over him. I couldn’t tolerate having something over my face when I slept. Gavin preferred burrowing under the covers and not having any cold air touch his nose.
Seriously? That’s what you’re obsessing about? Get back on track! “I…still have all those songs.”
His breath caught. “You’re fucking kidding me. Tell me you’re fucking kidding me. Fuck no, Hugo. Hell fucking no.”
“Uh…” I was leaving many sentences unfinished tonight. I hadn’t been certain how he’d react. If his newly rigid body posture was any indication, I’d have to say not happy.
“Well, burn them. Burn the whole lot of them. You have a house, right? With a fire pit? Or you can go out to Buntzen Lake and find a fire pit. Oh, or you could shred them. You’re a teacher. You must have access to an industrial shredder. Down to confetti-sized pieces.”
I waited patiently until he appeared to have run out of steam. “Axel, they’re lovely songs. You were so talented—even back then. Why do you think I kept them?”
“Because you always were too sentimental for your own good.”
That might’ve hurt…except those songs had been entirely sentimental, so probably some of the insults were projection.
“You know…” He cleared his throat. “My rep would take a dive if people saw them and thought I wrote them.”
“Pauletta?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, she seems like a very practical woman. She must’ve seen your potential, even back almost ten years ago. Those songs were in you at the time—”
“Why’d you keep them? Seriously. You can’t possibly have kept all the songs from all your kids. Your house would be full of paper. A fucking fire hazard.
He wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t kept ninety-nine percent of my students’ work. Axel had been different. If you’d only known how much. “Because you were one of the most talented kids I ever taught. I kept them around to remind myself of what I could nurture. That I could bring that out of you.” And because my fucking ex thought they were trash. More fool him. “I watched you rise—”
“Okay, now you’re just embarrassing me. Please stop.”
At his request, I did stop. If only to regroup and reconsider my words. “No. Don’t be embarrassed. I love those songs. I mess with them sometimes. Writing more composition into them.
He groaned. “Oh God, I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
“Do you remember “You Saved Me”?”