Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
H arry leaned back against the couch with a sigh as the credits rolled on the romcom. They’d eaten in front of the TV as they watched the rest of the film, sitting close, elbows clashing as they battled over the last spring roll, and he was aware of the heat of Jack’s thigh where it pressed against his own. That, combined with the warmth in his chest from being here together—in a nice hotel, because Jack thought he deserved it—ignited a buzzing under his skin. He itched to feel Jack’s arms around him, his hands on his bare skin in a way they hadn’t been since their fight. They hadn’t done much except cuddle in the last week, and Harry missed it. Which was ridiculous, since he’d managed perfectly well without sex before Jack had come along.
“I like that ending,” he said in an effort to distract himself, waving a hand at the screen before stretching his arms over his head and folding his hands behind his head, bare feet propped on the coffee table.
“Yeah,” Jack said, but something sounded off. It took Harry a second to realise that Jack was staring, his gaze fixed on the strip of belly skin that Harry’s stretch had exposed.
Oh .
Harry allowed himself to preen for a second at the way Jack’s eyes were dark with want. So he was still interested. Harry had never felt like this. Desirable . And he’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted Jack. Apparently, wanting Jack was going to be his new normal. He couldn’t say he minded.
He kind of wanted to take the lead, to drag Jack to bed by his shirt front and pin him down, but he knew himself well enough to admit that he was probably too new at this to pull a smooth move like that off. That didn’t mean he couldn’t try his hand at some kind of seduction, though. He licked a bit of sauce off his bottom lip and was gratified to see Jack’s gaze tracking the movement, his mouth falling slightly open, lips plush and inviting. Heat sizzled under Harry’s skin and his dick stirred. He wondered if he was meant to wait half an hour after eating to have sex. No, wait. That was swimming.
Jack was still watching him, so he got to his feet in what he hoped like hell was a seductive manner but probably just looked like standing. “I feel like we should go and lie down in that fancy hotel bed,” he said, and extended a hand. Jack’s eyebrows rose as he took Harry’s hand. Harry took a deep breath, tangled a hand in Jack’s hair in a way that he hoped made his intentions clear, and kissed him. Jack’s mouth opened under his and Harry slipped his tongue inside, probing gently as Jack kissed back. Then, in case he hadn’t been clear, Harry whispered in his ear, “I’m not actually sleepy, though.” He put his hands on Jack’s hips and rocked his body forward, his rapidly hardening dick a solid presence between them.
Jack’s breath caught, and he gave Harry a dazzling smile. “That sounds like a great idea.” He slid one hand under Harry’s shirt and splayed his palm against the skin of his back, and Harry couldn’t stop the soft sigh that slipped from him at the touch. Jack touching him felt like something that had been missing finally being returned, the last puzzle piece that held them together neatly slotting into place. Jack’s hand stilled at the sound like he thought he’d done something wrong, so Harry nuzzled the curve of his throat the way he knew Jack liked and said, “So, bed?”
The click of Jack swallowing was audible. “Yeah,” he said, slightly breathless, and steered Harry so they were stumbling backwards across the room towards the bed. The back of Harry’s knees hit the edge and he sat, pulling Jack with him. They ended up sprawled sideways, facing each other. Harry grinned at Jack, then rolled over and straddled him, knees sinking into the soft feather doona. He linked his fingers in Jack’s and leaned down to kiss him. The thrill of being in charge like this was powerful and sexy all at the same time.
Jack moaned into his mouth, and Harry could tell that Jack was hard in his jeans, his erection a solid line pressing against his zipper. He lowered himself so he was sprawled over Jack and rocked his hips, grinding them together, the fabric of his boxers slip-sliding against the head of his dick in a haphazard rhythm.
He pulled back and rolled to the side, then tugged at Jack’s shirt. Jack pulled his shirt off over his head and Harry did the same, only hesitating a moment before shimmying out of his cargo shorts and his boxers and dumping the whole lot on the floor. It was still new, being naked in front of someone, but Jack didn’t stare or make it weird. Instead, he shucked out of his own pants and underwear and pulled Harry back on top of him so he could kiss him some more. He made it seem like their bodies sliding against each other was almost an accident, except the way his hands were plastered on Harry’s arse holding him in place clearly proved it wasn’t .
A thrill ran through Harry at the full-body contact and he shuddered, heat prickling under his skin. Feeling bold, he reached between them and lined their dicks up before grinding down, and the slide of skin on skin, it was—fuck, it was incredible. Harry’s balls throbbed and his cock ached, and he had to hold himself still and take a long, slow breath. This was going to be over embarrassingly fast, and he didn’t even care.
Besides, it wasn’t only him. Jack was squirming underneath him, his mouth hanging open as a moan escaped. Harry kissed him again and rocked their bodies together, the drag and pull of another cock against his maddeningly good, a tortuous tease. Every inch of his skin was sensitive to touch, and Jack’s hands on his arse were reassuring and solid, stopping him from flying away. He arched back into the touch, buried his face in the crook of Jack’s neck, and let his body set a rhythm, riding the waves of pleasure that washed over him.
They rocked together, sensation building, until Jack panted out, “Wanna—can I blow you?” in Harry’s ear.
Harry groaned and instead of answering, rolled over onto his back. His cock slapped against his belly, red and hard and slippery where he was leaking precum. Jack took it in hand and stroked it once, twice, before he gave Harry a wicked smile and slid down his body, his mouth engulfing the head of Harry’s dick in a warmth and wetness that was almost overwhelming.
Harry gripped at Jack’s shoulder, fingers digging into the ink of his tattoo, and his hips rolled upward without his permission as he sank deeper into that plush mouth, helpless to stop himself. Jack didn’t seem to mind though, humming and swallowing around the length, his tongue teasing at the slit, making Harry’s dick throb as his breaths came in shallow little pants. Jack ran a hand down the meat of Harry’s thigh, and it was the whisper of fingertips softly feathering through his leg hair, the gentleness of the touch a stark contrast to the way Jack was sucking his dick like he was born for it, that had Harry’s balls drawing up tight. He barely had time to tap Jack’s shoulder in warning before he was coming, an explosion of heat and pleasure rippling through him and leaving him panting and boneless, his chest heaving.
Jack didn’t pull off like he’d expected, instead swallowing around his dick. Through the haze of his orgasm Harry had a second to feel bad about that and wonder if he’d breached some secret rule of dick-sucking etiquette. But Jack didn’t seem in any hurry to move, and it was only when Harry squirmed in discomfort that he pulled off, tongue lapping at the traces of cum on his bottom lip, his pupils blown wide. “Fuck, Harry. That was fucking amazing.”
Okay then. No etiquette breaches here.
Jack crawled up the bed and flopped down next to him, and it was hard to miss the long thread of precum that drooled from the head of his cock as he moved, glistening like spider silk. Harry was hit by a sudden desire to taste it.
He propped himself up on his elbows, and pressed Jack back against the bed. “My turn. It might not be very good, though. Is that okay?”
Jack bit his lip, and Harry hoped he wouldn’t ask if Harry was sure, or tell him he didn’t have to, or any of the things that might imply Harry wasn’t Jack’s equal in bed. He might be new at this, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to try everything eventually. Well, maybe not everything—figging was out—but most things. And he definitely wanted to know what it felt like to make Jack shake apart with his mouth, the way Jack had done for him.
Relief washed over him when Jack gazed at him, all dark eyes and swollen, kissable mouth, and breathed out, “It’ll be good, because it’s you.”
Harry felt a rush of warmth from the praise, hard on the heels of his arousal. Which, wow, okay, that was back too, even though he’d just come. And maybe it was a really inappropriate time to think it—okay, it was definitely a really inappropriate time to think it—but Harry recalled the lecturer he’d had in his first year of uni, the one who would always enthusiastically proclaim, “We're doing something exciting today! We’re learning a new thing!”
He shuffled down the bed.
Harry was about to learn a new thing.
“Should I ask why you’re laughing when my dick is in your face?” Jack looked down at him with a dubious expression.
Harry snorted. “I want a sticker when I’m done.”
Whatever Jack was going to say next, and Harry had no idea, it was buried under the moan he made when Harry leaned in and pressed his tongue to the head of his cock. That feeling of being powerful and in charge ran through him, and he did it again, catching the tang of salt and sweat. It wasn’t terrible. It tasted pretty much like he’d thought a dick would taste—he’d given the subject some consideration in the past few weeks. But the best part was the way that Jack shuddered underneath him, all the muscles in his abdomen and thighs tensing as though Harry’s tongue was electric. A thrill ran through Harry, and he was seized by the determination to take Jack apart using nothing but his tongue. Okay, probably his hands too, as soon as he figured out the mechanics of how to do that without face-planting on Jack’s cock and choking himself to death.
Elbows. They were a thing. He just needed to get at least one of them under him .
“Okay?” Jack asked as Harry did some impromptu contortionist work.
“Uh huh.” Harry panted against his dick, and didn’t that make Jack writhe in new and interesting ways? He realised with a rush of elation that Jack was right—it would be good, because everything that Harry was doing, as clumsy as it was, was turning Jack on. Not that he wanted to rest on his laurels or anything. But right here? Right now? Harry was a blowjob god, and he hadn’t even put Jack’s dick in his mouth yet!
Which, once he attempted it, actually made things a bit trickier, and necessitated getting both his elbows under him, as well as beaching himself like a scrawny whale on Jack’s thighs.
“What are you—?” Jack sat up, which complicated things again. “Just—hang on a second.” He shifted, and space opened up between his thighs. Harry remembered that he had knees as well, and that it was okay to use them to get some leverage. Honestly, he was starting to see why one guy standing and one guy kneeling was such a popular configuration. Much simpler.
But it worked in the end, and at last Harry found a way to position himself that wasn’t a pretzel impersonation. He even had a hand spare, so he curled his fingers around Jack’s shaft—Jack moaned and gave a full-body shiver—and finally closed his lips around the head of his cock. It throbbed in response, and Jack groaned like he’d been punched. Harry took more in his mouth, and found he liked the weight and the silky-smooth texture of it against his tongue. He sucked lightly, unsure if he should treat it like an Icy Pole or a thermometer, but erring on the side of caution. When Jack’s thighs shuddered in response though, he sucked harder.
“ Fuuuck,” Jack groaned. He tugged at the hair on top of Harry’s head, the sweet sting of it sparking and fizzing under Harry’s skin. He’d wondered how, exactly, it was meant to be sexy having someone else’s junk in his mouth, but it was all becoming crystal clear as Jack squirmed and panted and fell to pieces. Harry’s dick drooled in response and his balls pulled up tight. Being a sex god was one hell of an aphrodisiac, apparently.
Jack gave a sharp hiss, hips rolling furiously as Harry tried to keep pace, and Jack’s hand tightened and pulled Harry back off his cock. Harry stared up at him, uncomprehending, but then Jack said, “I’m gonna?—”
And he did.
Holy shit! Harry’s mouth wasn’t even on him at the time, though his fingers were still curled around his shaft. By the time he’d registered what Jack was telling him, it had already happened. Spurts of cum hit Harry’s chin and throat, and it was gross and messy and hilarious and hot as hell all at the same time.
Harry stared, wide-eyed, as Jack’s cock twitched and pulsed under his hand, like it had a mind of its own. Now he thought about it, it probably did if it was anything like his own, which was currently hard and aching, curved up against his belly and threatening to blow without any input from Harry at all.
“Get up here,” Jack murmured, and Harry squirmed his way up Jack’s naked, sweaty, body. Jack met him with a kiss, and slid his hand between them, unerringly finding Harry’s dick. “Want me to jerk you off?”
“Nggh,” Harry said, and came all over Jack’s hand. He blinked down at the mess between them. He laughed, breathless. “Apparently you didn’t have to do much at all.”
Jack laughed right along with him and wiped his hand on the corner of the sheet before flopping back against the mattress, pulling Harry with him so he ended up curled against Jack’s side. After a minute he said, “So, I guess you didn’t hate that?”
Harry snuggled in closer, his entire body boneless from his unexpected second orgasm. “I really didn’t hate it. I liked watching you be all overwhelmed by my sexual prowess.”
Jack pressed a kiss to his temple. “You were amazing,” he said, and warmth flooded Harry at the words. It wasn’t that he needed to be told, exactly, but more that Jack had thought to reassure him. He sighed and let his eyes close, only for them to snap open a moment later when his phone started ringing.
He groaned and reached out for the bedside table, frowning when he saw Amanda flashing on the screen. That was next week’s client. He was almost tempted to let it go to message bank, but in the end, he answered it. “Amanda?”
“Harry? Thank God.”
That didn’t sound good. “What’s up?”
“Okay, so you know dinner next Sunday? My parents have moved it to tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? Shit. Amanda was desperate for her parents to accept her girlfriend, and Harry was being well paid to be the awful straight-boy alternative. He couldn’t let her down.
Except, Harry was in Goulburn. “I can’t,” he said. “I’m out of town meeting my boyfriend’s family.” The irony of that wasn’t lost on him.
“Shit,” Amanda said, a slightly desperate note to her voice. “I need someone really awful. Is there anyone else?”
Harry ran a hand through his hair and tried to think. He was pretty sure Ambrose was out of town as well this weekend—something to do with the vineyard. And Harry didn’t think he had many friends he could both explain the concept of Bad Boyfriending to and get them to agree to it without them hardcore judging him forever, which really only left …
Oh no.
“Amanda, let me call you back in five, okay?” He ended the call and took a deep breath.
Jack looked at him worriedly. “Everything okay?”
Harry slumped against the headboard as the last of his afterglow dissolved. “It’s a Bad Boyfriend date. She wants to move it to tomorrow. And I don’t want to let Amanda down, because I really like her, but obviously Mia’s wedding is much more important. And meeting your parents. Properly, I mean.”
Jack nodded, brow creased in confusion.
“There’s only one thing to do. Wish me luck,” Harry said glumly, and drew another deep breath as he went through his contacts.
It took a moment for an answer. Then he heard, “Hello?”
“Tris,” Harry said, while Jack’s eyes widened, and he collapsed in silent laughter on the bed. “I need a huge favour.”