Chapter Thirteen
Oliver
Lane’s house was absolutely gorgeous, and it was easy to see he’d put a lot of care and effort into it. But I wasn’t really focused on the details. I was just trying not to trip up the stairs in my hurry to get to Lane’s room.
It was easy to tell which room I was aiming for since the only other open door led to the bathroom. I wheeled my suitcase along the wooden floor and through the door, taking a moment to look around the space.
It was a large room at the back of the house with a hardwood floor and inky blue walls that would have made it feel small if it wasn’t for the enormous amount of natural light pouring in from the white framed windows on the far wall.
I walked over to them and realised that because the house was on one of the angled roads that wound their way out of the bay, the windows had a perfect view over the town and the beach, but nobody could see through them.
The tantalising idea of Lane fucking me against one of the windows slipped into my mind, and I filed it away for later. It wasn’t what I wanted that night, but it was something I wanted to explore in the future. It would tick my vaguely exhibitionist box while ensuring we wouldn’t actually be seen.
I turned back into the room, letting my eyes roam across the rest of the details. There were some soft, line-art prints above the bed of naked bodies and two industrial-style lights on the wall on either side of the bed like Lane had designed the room for two.
The bed itself had a dark, solid wooden frame with a tall headboard.
It was quite high off the ground, and I casually wondered whether that made it the perfect hip hight for Lane.
It was made up with dark blue and white sheets that looked suspiciously fresh, and I saw a bottle of lube on one of the bedside tables along with a box of condoms and a random assortment of books and charging cables.
I smirked to myself. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one who had ideas about this evening. Then again, I’d practically had a flashing, neon Fuck Me sign over my head this afternoon when Lane had invited me to stay.
I still wasn’t sure how I felt about the whole thing.
If I really thought about it, the pace of things between us was absurd.
It was one thing to reconnect and rekindle our friendship; it was another to start banging each other’s brains out in less than a week.
And while fast hook-ups happened all the time, the history between us should probably have meant we proceeded with more caution.
But even thinking about slowing down made something ache in my chest. I didn’t want to put the brakes on. If anything, I wanted to speed up despite knowing how strange this whole situation was.
Lane had acknowledged it was weird, and I was glad he had. But at the same time, it didn’t feel as weird to me as it probably should have. It felt like we were picking up where we’d left off, just with a little more baggage than before.
The floor creaked, and my heart skipped as I saw Lane stroll through the door, a playful smile on his lips. I’d told Lane I’d time him, but I’d forgotten all about that as soon as I’d left the kitchen.
“You’re still dressed,” Lane said teasingly as he closed the door behind him.
“Were you expecting me naked on all fours?” I asked. “Or maybe kneeling?”
Lane smirked. “You’d look good waiting for me on your knees.”
I added that to my mental sex to-do list and closed the gap between us.
The need that had been thrumming through me when we’d kissed in the kitchen had returned with full force, and I was desperate to get my mouth on him.
Our last hook-up had been all about me, and this time I wanted to repay the favour.
“I can’t do the waiting part today, but I can get on my knees for you,” I said as I sank down in front of him, my hands reaching for the button on his work trousers.
I popped the button and began to tug the trousers over his hips, making sure I took his underwear with them. I didn’t have the patience to draw this out. It had been too long since I’d tasted his cock, and that had been the focus of my fantasies ever since Saturday.
I groaned as Lane’s thick shaft sprang free. He was already starting to get hard. I looked up at Lane, and our eyes met as I leant forward and wrapped my lips around the soft head of his cock.
“Fuck,” Lane said. His hand came down to rest on my head, his fingers stroking my hair.
I didn’t take my eyes off him as I took more of him into my mouth.
His cock filled on my tongue, stretching my lips around him, and it made my own dick throb in anticipation.
I wrapped my hand around the bottom of his shaft and slowly began to pump his cock, using my fingers and my mouth to draw out every drop of pleasure.
Lane groaned, his eyes burning with desire as he watched me. His mouth hung open, his lips red and slick where he kept licking them. I thought about them around my dick and how good they’d feel.
“That’s it, baby. Just like that,” Lane said, his fingers petting my hair. “Fuck, you look so pretty on your knees for me. So fucking good for me.”
I hummed around his cock, taking him deeper and trying not to gag around him.
I’d always had a sensitive gag reflex, and I’d been embarrassed about it at first until I discovered most guys found it hot.
Using my hand helped, though, because hot as it might be, I was always worried that one day I’d go too far and end up vomiting.
And the last thing I wanted was to throw up on Lane’s dick.
Saliva dripped down his shaft, slicking the smooth, warm skin under my fingers. My senses were filled with the smell and taste of him, and I couldn’t get enough. I worked his cock faster and faster as more of Lane’s deep moans flooded my ears.
“Shit, Oliver… your mouth is… so fucking perfect.” Lane’s words were broken, and I knew he was getting close.
His fingers tightened in my hair as if he had the urge to take over and fuck my face.
I was so tempted to let him. But tonight, I wanted to make him come.
I wanted to feel him break down and fill my mouth with his load, knowing that I’d done that to him.
My free hand pressed against the bulge in my jeans, trying desperately to get some friction on my own cock. I tried to thrust my hips into my hand, but it wasn’t enough.
“It’s okay, baby,” Lane said. I realised I’d closed my eyes, and when I opened them, he was looking down at me with a fond smile. “I’ll make sure you get to come. Just focus on me first, then I’ll reward you.”
I groaned, his words pressing more of those buttons inside me I hadn’t realised were there. Or maybe I had, but they were more prevalent now… more easily activated. Like Lane instinctively knew what was there and how to hit it.
I tightened my lips and my fist, creating the perfect tunnel of tight, wet heat for his cock. Lane cursed and groaned, his hips giving an aborted, needy thrust, and I moaned. I teased his shaft with my tongue and let it flick over the head, the taste of his precum bursting on my tongue.
“Ol… Oliver… I’m, fuck, I’m going to come!
” Lane growled, the sound racing through me as his cock sank deep into my mouth.
I felt it fill and pulse as he emptied himself into my throat.
I looked up at him as I swallowed his load, letting him see just how much I loved it.
His eyes were wide and almost feral. The look alone sent another rush of heat through me.
Slowly, Lane pulled out leaving my mouth slick and slightly sore. It was worth it, though, especially when he sank to his knees in front of me and began peppering me with gentle kisses and punctuating each with soft words.
“You were so good for me,” he said. “So hot. So tight. So perfect.”
“Thank you,” I said quietly, knowing I was turning red and hoping I could pass it off as exertion. Apparently, I liked being praised. “It was okay, then?”
“More than okay. Trust me.” Lane raised an eyebrow as if he was surprised I needed the reassurance. I didn’t know why I did. Maybe it was because I needed it to be good for him. After everything he’d given me last time, I didn’t want to disappoint him.
That might have been too heavy an emotion for a summer hook-up, but I wasn’t going to think about it.
“Now it’s my turn,” Lane said, giving me a devious smile followed by a long, drawn-out kiss that practically had me melting into the floor. “Take off your jeans and lie on the bed with your feet flat on the mattress and your legs bent.”
It was my turn to raise an eyebrow, but I still stood and began to undo my jeans and pull them down. Lane smirked.
“I see you’re wearing underwear this time. You should take them off too.”
“Trust you to have caught me the one time I wasn’t,” I said as I tugged my jeans and boxers off, leaving them in a heap on the floor. I pulled off my t-shirt too because I didn’t feel like Donald Ducking it across the room.
“I didn’t mind, though. You should go without them more often.”
“Maybe I will.” I added another note to my mental sex file and walked over to the bed.
Lane had risen to his feet and was stripping off, and I watched him as I climbed onto the mattress.
It was the first time I’d seen him naked in a very long time, and I was enjoying every second.
Lane was lean and toned in a way that suggested hours of manual labour rather than hours at the gym.
I propped myself up on some pillows so I could keep watching him as he walked around to the side of the bed I’d earmarked as his and reached for the lube.
“Can I play with your ass again?” he asked, holding up the bottle. “I want to finger fuck you while I suck your cock.” My dick visibly twitched, and Lane chuckled. “Is that a yes, then?”
“That’s a fuck yes,” I said. “Please do that.”
“Good.” The bed dipped as he climbed on next to me, and suddenly, I was surrounded in heat as he blanketed me with his body, leaning down to kiss me with his arms on either side of my head. I almost wished I hadn’t made him come so he could’ve fucked me.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered as he trailed kisses down my neck. “I’ll fuck you later. I promise.”
I nodded, my proposed words coming out as a gasp as his tongue swiped over my nipple as he began to move down my body.
“Oh shit!” I moaned as Lane’s tongue brushed over the sensitive, swollen head of my cock before his lips wrapped around me.
I heard the click of the bottle of lube and instinctively spread my legs a little wider.
The lube was cool against my ass, but I was more focused on the feel of his finger as it pressed inside me.
The dual sensation of his mouth around my dick and his finger in my hole was sheer perfection, and I knew it was only going to get better.
“Lane, please,” I said as he slowly began to fuck me with that single digit, his mouth teasingly sliding up and down my shaft. I wondered if he’d want me to beg again. I would. Happily.
“I know, baby. I know,” he said, briefly pulling off my cock.
He pushed another finger into me, stretching me a little wider as his mouth returned to my aching erection.
His fingers curled over that sweet spot inside me as he began to fuck me with more purpose.
His lips tightened, and he took me deeper, and I groaned as pleasure spread through me like a wildfire.
When he slid a third finger into me, it added a note of sweet burn, sending me higher.
My legs were trembling, and I already felt pressure sliding down my spine.
My balls began to tighten, and everything else melted away.
All I could focus on was the perfect storm of sensation that was engulfing me, and when Lane swallowed around my cock and swept over my prostate, I came with a sharp cry.
My whole body felt like it was burning, and my legs were shaking as I tried to draw breath.
Lane was saying something, but I couldn’t focus.
All I knew was his tone was soft and warm, and I felt his hand brushing soothingly along my inner thighs.
He slipped his other fingers out of my hole, leaving me feeling empty and almost bereft.
We’d only done this twice, and already I craved him.
“There we go,” Lane said as I looked down at him. “Are you with me?”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding my head shakily. “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Lane grinned and pressed a kiss to my inner thigh before slowly pressing my legs down. “You never need to be sorry for enjoying yourself.”
“Thanks.”
“Plus, it was hot as fuck to watch.” He moved up the bed, blanketing me again so he could give me another kiss. I could taste myself on his tongue.
We made out slowly with no purpose or destination other than the lazy enjoyment of each other. If this was what living with Lane was going to be like, I didn’t think I’d ever want to leave.
“By the way,” I said eventually, suddenly remembering something I’d been meaning to ask him all afternoon. “What are you doing on Wednesday night?”
Lane frowned at me. “Nothing. Why?”
“How do you fancy doing a pub quiz?”