Chapter 39 #2
He’s solid and warm. Sinewy and smooth against me.
I’m sensitive to the pressure. To the density, to the heat and weight of his cock against mine, in a way I wasn’t expecting.
It’s compelling. Captivating. Hypnotic. Electrons spin around atoms, generating an unstoppable pull.
A magnetic attraction so strong, the world goes away and all that’s left in existence is Connor’s body and mine.
I thrust against the hardness of him, and the ridge of his crown caressing mine sends dizzying pleasure up my shaft.
Up my spine. To the base of my brain. I’m mindless.
A mechanical bull. A screaming need that knows nothing but friction.
Nothing but heat. Nothing but Connor and his cock against mine.
The shift from brain-numbing pleasure to ecstasy is smooth. An elevator ride through the roof of a building without stopping. A dam wall breaking.
Connor struggles against me, a hand on my back, a leg curled around my waist, bucking frantically.
He’s like me. Mechanical and mindless. He’s right where I am, chasing a void.
Chasing a tidal wave of pleasure so strong we’re going to forget everything that isn’t the rush of our balls emptying and gushes of cum shooting from our cocks.
I look down, and he’s wild. Eyes closed, teeth clenched. Lips pulled into a grimace that lets a pained sound seep out of it.
He looks up, and the world stops turning. It’s him. The Spark. He’s here, and he’s beautiful and good. So beautiful and so good that my heart cracks open and my orgasm erupts out of me violently.
It’s the kind of pleasure that feels like strangulation. Like a life force suddenly suspended. Like death and dying.
Like drowning.
Like living.
Like forgiveness and righting old wrongs.
It feels like the beginning of something so new that my whole body shakes with relief as wave after wave hits me. Crashing into me and tossing me into the air.
I sink and float.
When I swim back to the surface, there’s a mess between us.
A hot, sticky mess that I reach into with no hesitation.
My hand finds Connor’s cock. It’s like mine, and not mine.
Thick and slippery, wet from what I spilled.
I hold myself up—not a lot because I crave being close to Connor more than I’ve ever craved anything—just enough that I’m able to move my hand between us and watch as his face transforms.
He moans through his teeth, low and long, and the sinews in his neck pull. His eyes are open, as blue as they are green, and they’re trained on me. He hisses and pants. His eyes are hungry and slowly becoming unfocused. On me one second, rolling back the next.
His orgasm rushes up his shaft. I feel it. I literally feel it in my hand. The pulse, the pleasure. The surge. He throbs in my hand. Once, twice, three times, and then his seed spurts out of him in thick jets as his cries of pleasure light up the room.
I catch what I can and rub it into his skin, thrusting my cock against his even though I’m so sensitive I could scream.
I have to.
I want to because I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want to make Connor feel good.
It’s a blurry, trancelike night. We clean up and go back to his bed, and then we make a mess all over again.
We use our hands the first few times, and by the time it’s so late that I’m lightheaded from Connor and coming and not eating dinner, he kneels between my legs with his hands on my thighs.
He’s stripped everything from me, and I don’t only mean shoes and clothes.
I mean heavy things I’ve been carrying. I mean walls I haven’t let people see behind.
He’s naked too, and he wears it well. He wears his nudity sweetly, almost kindly. He’s exactly the same naked as he is with his clothes on. Calm and comfortable. Personable in the extreme.
I can’t look at him without smiling.
He’s also so sexy I don’t know what to do with myself. I want what we’ve already done, but I also want more. I want unnamed things I don’t remember consciously wanting before. I want my hands on his body. My mouth on his mouth. My mouth on his neck. On his chest. On his belly. And more.
I want my cock pressed against his, and I also want it inside him.
That’s not all, though, because for the first time, I realize I want all those things from him too.
He runs his hands lightly down my inner thighs, looks up at me, and smiles. He looks so fucking happy between my legs that my cock strains on my stomach, a hard offer that’s easy to make. My heart beats in anticipation, and my breathing quickens as he leans down and runs his nose along my shaft.
“I like this,” he murmurs softly, following the vein that runs up it.
He makes this adorable little sound, and it kills me. It breaks me open and makes laughter peal out of me.
He laughs too. A soft, spluttery sound that fades when he licks me. It fades more when he takes me into his mouth. His lips are puffy, bruised from my kisses, and they suck me with exactly the amount of pressure required to snap my laughter into uneven pieces and replace it with broken moans.
He uses his mouth and his hands. Then his mouth only. He pushes himself down on me slowly, steadily. Taking so much of me that my fingers and toes curl. His mouth is a planet. A galaxy. A soft, wet world I didn’t know existed.
He bobs his head and flicks his eyes up at me as he does it. His mouth is full. Lips stretched tightly around my cock, cheeks hollowed. Our gazes meet and sizzle.
There’s something completely disarming about the way he looks at me. There’s no pretense about it. No attempt to be seductive or sexy.
The result is one of the most seductive things I’ve ever seen.
He does it again. And again. Slowly. Leisurely. There’s no rush. No end. No destination. Only his mouth, his tongue, and the ragged sounds he ekes out of me.
I watch him the whole time. His mouth, of course, but also his eyes. Also his cheeks, bulging and dipping.
“Do you like it?” I ask.
“Mm,” he hums around my head, nodding and sucking at the same time.
It takes me a second to recover, but I manage. “As much as getting it?”
He looks up and blitzes me with a sea-green city. A peaceful place thrumming with electricity.
“More,” he replies thickly. He licks my tip, his tongue haphazardly bathing the line of my slit.
Reason comes a little more unstuck each time he does it.
He swallows my head, holding it for a few beats before releasing it with a soft pop.
“I like giving it more than I like getting it…and I like getting it a whole fucking lot.”
Oh great.
Now I know Connor likes having his cock sucked.
I mean, it’s not really groundbreaking information.
Most guys like it. It feels fucking good, so of course, most guys like it.
It’s just that knowing he likes it, when he’s someone I’m with, someone I’m kissing and getting naked with, makes the information hit different.
Because he is who he is, he gets in my head and reads my mind. “No pressure,” he says quietly. “No pressure ever. Okay? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, and you definitely don’t have to do anything because I’ve done it to you, or because I’ve told you I like it.”
“It’s not that.” As I hear the words, the truth they deliver becomes conscious. Real. Known thoughts and feelings rather than abstract ones. “I want to do it. To you. I want to do all the things with you, Con… I just don’t want to be shitty at it.”
Connor starts giggling, dropping my cock onto my belly and looking up at me.
“Dude, Imma level with you,” he says, shrugging broadly.
“I have the biggest crush ever on you. Seriously, I’m down bad.
There’s literally not a thing you could do to me naked that I wouldn’t love. I can guaran-goddamn-tee it.”
He dips his head again, closing his eyes as he goes back to work. This time, I card my fingers in his hair and let my own eyes slide shut too. I don’t watch. I don’t think. All I do is feel.
The pleasure, when it lands, is eyewatering. Shattering. Absolutely shattering. Sharp shards of sensation that plunge into me and flow straight to my heart. It wrecks me. Rocks me. Leaving me hoarse and legless beneath him.
Psychedelic colors swirl around the room, faster and faster, and faster still.
I open my eyes and breathe in, and everything goes black.
I’ve never come like that before. So hard my psyche has been reset. So hard, I don’t know who or where I am.
Connor knows what he did to me. He must because afterward, he tends to me like I’m wounded. Like I’m broken and need to be put back together.
He scrapes up all the splintered pieces of me and puts them back into place.
I lie there and let him.
When I’m semiconscious and back in my body, I find myself on my side, facing him. He looks calm and serene. Eyes drooping slightly. Lips, as always, curled into a smile.
I reach up and trace his smile lines. The ones near his eyes first, and then the ones at the corners of his mouth.
They deepen as I do it.
I trace the seam of his lips next. His top lip rests lightly on the bottom.
They’re darker than usual. Kissed, bitten, and fucked.
Despite the fact that he just broke me, and despite the fact that I don’t even know how many times I’ve come tonight, seeing his lips and thinking of them like that turns me on.
My dick twitches helplessly as I watch my thumb press his bottom lip down. There’s a hint of enamel. A slick sheen. A wetness that’s his and mine.
He raises a curious brow but doesn’t move a muscle except to part his lips slightly and show me his tongue. That turns me on too.
I lean forward tentatively, my own tongue extended, and groan loudly as I taste what I gave him.