Chapter Nine #3
He’d always known Xander was good with his hands.
Damon had always watched them in the habit of regular tasks—chopping and whisking and mixing—but now he watched Xander’s hands with a whole different fascination as he tugged down his jeans partway and then his boxer briefs.
Then those hands, so capable and so beautiful, wrapped around his cock, thumb reaching up to give a teasing little swipe to the damp head.
“God,” Damon uttered in a gravelly voice, his eyelids slipping shut so he could enjoy the pleasure already spinning through him, “just like that.”
Except that Xander didn’t do it “just like that.” He stopped moving his hand and his fingers completely, trapping Damon’s length in his hot, wet palm.
“Look at me,” Xander demanded, voice strained.
Damon had imagined lots of times—more times than he should ever admit to—what Xander’s sex voice might sound like.
He’d imagined it in his ear, as Xander pleaded for Damon to give him more, to give him everything.
And every single time Damon had done it. At least in his mind.
“What?” Damon asked stupidly, opening his eyes.
Xander rewarded him with an experimental twist of his fingers. “That’s better,” he crooned. “I want you to watch me. I want you to watch me jerk you off.”
“Better. Yes. Now.” Damon felt like he was beyond words as he glanced down, and took in the full image of Xander’s hand wrapped around him. Then he glimpsed Xander’s face. Lips tight with concentration, eyes teasing and burning with the exact same desire Damon felt.
“Feels good, huh?” Xander said, giving another stroke, a tiny bit faster this time.
Damon didn’t even need to answer, the expression of bliss on his face probably gave him away. Or maybe his own hands, white-knuckled on the edge of the dryer.
Still, he’d learned his lesson. He kept his eyes open and watched as Xander slowly and inexorably pushed him toward the edge, one tantalizing stroke at a time.
“You like it like this?” Xander asked, even though it was probably very clear how much Damon liked it. “Or harder, and faster, like this?” He sped up, his hand motion making his bicep flex, and Damon bit back an oath.
“You keep that up,” Damon gritted out, “and it’s going to be over really soon.”
“That would really be a shame,” Xander crooned, glancing down at his hands. “You’ve got a beautiful cock.”
Xander’s words were fizzing in his veins, each syllable a tiny bubble of pleasure exploding.
“What?” Xander continued, expression going sly, his hand slowing down infinitesimally.
“You like it when I talk dirty? You want to hear how many ways I want this cock? I want you to hold me down and fuck me so hard I cry. I want my mouth on it. I want to suck you until you come, and then I want to keep you in my mouth until you can’t help but get hard again. ”
It was too much. Damon tried to hold on, but it had been a long, lonely time for him the last few years, and the visuals of Xander’s words and the rough edge of his voice as he told Damon all his fantasies was too much for him to handle.
He tensed, and then exploded, Xander stroking him through it with a very satisfied grin on his face. Just like he was the cat who’d finally gotten all the cream he wanted.
“Fuck,” Damon groaned as Xander lifted his hand and gave his finger an experimental lick. “You’re going to kill me.”
“Oh, but the trip is going to be fantastic,” Xander said with a sharp, feral grin. “Return the favor?”
Damon opened his mouth to agree, but to also remind Xander that he’d never done this before.
“It’s okay,” he soothed, edges softening as he guessed at Damon’s insecurity. “You’ve jerked yourself off before, right?”
Damon had practically worn off his skin jerking off thinking of Xander in the last few weeks. He nodded slowly.
“Then you’re fine,” Xander said. “Just do what you think you’d like.”
“What about what you like?” Damon asked.
“We’ll figure it out,” Xander promised. “Now please do something before I get tired of waiting and do it myself.”
That was something Damon really wanted to see—but someday. Not today. Today he wanted to give Xander at least a little taste of the pleasure he’d just received.
He cautiously reached down, loosening the tie on Xander’s shorts. He knew he wasn’t as graceful about it as Xander, and it was definitely more awkward than it looked to push down Xander’s wet, clingy shorts. He should be thankful he hadn’t been wearing jeans, like Damon was.
Xander was wearing tight black briefs with little chili peppers dotted all over them. Damon knew he must be staring, both at the cute underwear that totally personified him, but also at the pretty impressive hard-on.
Blushing, Xander gave a little aborted shrug as Damon reached out and stroked him once through the damp cotton. “I like fun underwear,” he admitted, and Damon thought this was a facet of Xander that he could get used to. Really, really fast.
“I like them,” Damon admitted. “They’re sexy as hell.”
“I hoped you might think so,” Xander said, and blushed again. Harder this time.
With minimum difficulty, Damon managed to push them down, letting them fall to the floor with Xander’s running shorts, his cock springing up fully hard and definitely ready to go.
Damon wrapped his hand around it gently, and it was him that swore, not Xander. It felt so different from touching himself—so much better than he’d imagined. He’d always been a giver, and he knew from the first feel of Xander’s cock that he was going to want to give all the time.
“Ahhh,” Xander exhaled as Damon began to pump him slowly. “Don’t have to be so gentle.”
Damon knew his smile grew wicked. “Like it rough, do you?”
Xander panted. “Maybe.”
Damon had already decided that he was down for giving Xander whatever he wanted. Both inside and outside the bedroom—or as this case might be, inside the laundry room. So he jerked him harder, sliding his thumb around the wet head, gathering pre-come to help ease his way a little better.
Xander was right; he did know what to do.
His other hand gripped Xander’s hip, and held him tight and fast as he gave him what he’d asked for.
A little rough, with no quarter. Xander came with Damon’s name on his breath and a wide-eyed incredulous look, like he’d just been smacked by a freight train.
“Wow,” he exhaled shakily. “Wow.”
“Good for a first time?” Damon asked self-consciously. He didn’t feel quite as confident as Xander about tasting the stripes of come on his fingers, but he wanted to. Maybe next time. Maybe next time he might even feel confident enough to offer a blowjob.
Licking his lips, Xander smiled bright. “Uh, yeah. Definitely no complaints.” He paused. “Did you know I wanted you for the first time in this room, a year ago?”
Damon laughed. “What if I told you that I wanted you before that?”
“Even looking like a drowned rat?”
Reaching up with his clean hand, Damon stroked Xander’s cheek. “Even in the pouring rain, standing in a mud pit, you had so much passion and fire in your eyes. I wanted some of that fight for myself. I wanted you to share it with me.” He hesitated. “And you did. You do, every day. Thank you.”
Xander’s laugh was shaky, unsure. Even more unsure than he’d been about to get Damon’s first hand job. “You’re welcome.”
Damon reached down, picked up his t-shirt, wiped his hand. Pulled Xander’s hand into his own, and wiped it too. He didn’t know the etiquette for these kinds of things—not yet anyway—but he knew he always wanted to do the right thing.
From Xander’s damp eyes that he guessed had nothing to do with the sprinkler fight they’d had, Damon hoped he’d managed it, despite the lack of experience.