Chapter 15
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
SAWYER
Preston is murdering me. With every touch, every look, every goddamn word out of his mouth, I’m dying a little. When he started ripping at his clothes, I thought my head was going to explode. I’ve seen him naked a thousand times, but never like this, with him at a fever pitch.
When he asked whether it mattered if he liked guys, when he said he wanted to kiss me again, it took every ounce of self-control to not shove my tongue down his throat.
Because, yeah, the part of me that’s been in love with Preston for years is setting off fucking fireworks at this unexpected development.
But the part of me that’s best friends with Preston is waving red flags and sounding alarms.
Preston might want to get naked and make out tonight.
But will he still feel that way tomorrow?
Or the day after? What if this is merely an experiment and he decides he wants to go back to how things were before?
What if this fundamentally changes our friendship and we find we can’t go back anymore?
Is it worth risking what we have for whatever this might turn out to be?
If I’m honest with myself, if I let myself think too deeply about it, I’m pretty sure I’ll land on, “No.” It’s absolutely not worth it.
What I currently have with Preston is all that is precious and good.
It isn’t everything I want it to be, but I’d rather this than nothing at all.
Except Preston is splayed out before me, wearing nothing but his tight briefs, his cock hard and leaking under the cotton. His legs are spread around my thighs and he keeps thrusting his hips forward like he’s looking for something to grind up on.
I’m only a man. I have limits. When the guy I’ve been in love with since puberty starts tearing at our clothes, there’s only so much I can resist.
His hand is on my chest, over my heart. Can he feel how fast it’s beating? Does he know how long it’s beat for him?
I watch him as he touches me. The wonder on his face, the light in his eyes. Jesus Christ. It should be illegal for anyone to look like that, so pure and innocent and unblemished.
I lift his hand from my chest and plant a kiss on his palm.
He sucks in a shuddering breath. I lean down and cover his mouth with my lips as he exhales.
Breathing in the air that was just in his lungs, I hold it inside me for as long as I can, letting my body absorb as many of the microscopic, invisible molecules as possible.
It’s a tiny bit of Preston that’s now a part of me, something of him that I’ll carry with me forever.
Preston slides his arms over my shoulders, pulling me down on top of him. The skin-on-skin contact overloads my brain’s circuits and the sparks pop as the evolved portion of my mind shuts down and primal instincts take over.
I crush Preston into the couch. His knees come up on either side of my hips and he locks his ankles behind me. His cock is a hard length against my stomach and I line us up for a couple good thrusts.
Preston mewls and arches into me. His heels dig into my ass and his fingers scrabble against my back. His body couldn’t have shouted “more” any clearer.
I plunder his mouth, licking into it and searching out every dark recess. I pet his tongue with mine, suck on it, push it around in a dance that mimics the one our bodies are dancing.
The pleasure is indescribable. It’s better than anything I’ve ever experienced.
It’s so good, so perfect. The sounds Preston makes—god, they’re so obscene and yet so sweet.
The way he fits against me, all his sharp angles perfectly cushioned by the curves of my muscles.
I know Preston doesn’t have much experience with sex, but Jesus fucking Christ does he know how to turn on the sexy when he wants to.
The air is heated and thick, filled with the musky aroma of our mutual arousal and the sour scent of our sweat.
I kiss Preston’s jaw, press my lips on the beauty mark behind his ear, and lap at the saltiness on his neck.
Preston’s fingers find their way into my hair and he holds me to him, like he can’t get enough.
Pleasure shoots through me, racing down my spine and straight to my balls.
They’re pulled up, high and tight, primed to turn themselves inside out.
But I can’t come before Preston does. In no world, in no universe is that okay. Preston absolutely, without a doubt has to come first.
I take his mouth again and he whimpers into it.
I swallow it down as my hands wander, eating up all those acres of skin I’ve never let myself touch.
His sides, his hips, his thighs. His spine, the small of his back, his ass.
I palm one perfectly round globe and it fits in my hand like it was made to measure.
I squeeze and pull him tighter to me. His movements grow more frantic, more desperate as he bucks against me.
I sink my weight into him, a hard, solid surface for him to chase his orgasm on.
His sex sounds grower higher and higher, louder and louder, and his whole body is shaking like he’s right on the edge.
“Come for me, Preston,” I murmur against his lips, and like magic, he does.
He throws his head back, screaming, and liquid warmth gushes between our bodies.
He’s so fucking beautiful. The sounds he makes are music to my ears. His cum has soaked through not only his own underwear but mine too. His cum is on my skin, on my cock. I did this to him. I made him come. I love him so fucking much.
My own orgasm explodes, harder and stronger than any I’ve ever had. It tears through me, ripping me open from the inside out. I roar as I keep frotting against Preston, like I can somehow work our combined cum into our bodies so we don’t lose a single drop.
I come so hard, I think I black out for a second. Aftershocks are still rumbling through me as I cover Preston’s body, my face buried in the crook of his neck. His arms and legs are still wrapped around me. He’s still trembling too.
I want to stay here forever. I never want to move. I don’t want to deal with whatever comes next, whatever consequences are waiting for us on the other side of this moment.
Here. Right now. This is paradise.
“That was good,” Preston says. His voice is quiet and lazy, but there’s a distinct note of surprise in it.
“Yeah?”
“Better than I anticipated.”
I push myself onto my elbows and gaze down at Preston.
“We’re going to have to do this again,” he says with a soft, sleepy smile. His eyes are heavy-lidded, but the blue of his irises is clear and sharp. He might still be riding high off his orgasm, but he almost looks like he’s thinking about his research. “Make sure we get a good sample size.”
He’s lost me. “Sample size?”
“To ensure this wasn’t a fluke.”
Fuck me.
This was supposed to be just kissing. Some simple making out to test the waters and see if Preston’s comfortable with guy-on-guy action.
We weren’t supposed to get naked and sweaty and introduce our dicks to each other—albeit between two layers of cotton.
We weren’t supposed to have mutual orgasms. We weren’t supposed to have sex.
And now he wants to do it a bunch more times to confirm that yes, he might actually be gay?
Fear and want battle inside me—I want more too. I want everything with Preston. It would be so easy to take anything and everything he’s willing to give, consequences be damned.
Would we survive all that? Our friendship is the most important thing in my life. If I lost it or it changed for the worse, I don’t know what I would do. I don’t know if I could go on.
But when Preston gazes adoringly at me, what real choice do I have? I smile back and slowly lift myself off him. Preston doesn’t let me get far, following me up and tucking himself into my side like he can’t bear to lose the skin-on-skin contact.
Without a word, we head to my bathroom. “How about you take a shower?” I say, trying to untangle myself from Preston.
He just clings to me harder. “With you?” He peers at me with those beautiful blue eyes, rimmed with long, dark lashes.
How can I say no to him? I love him. I’ll never say no. Even if it means testing the very limits of my sanity. Hot shower, soapy, naked. Despite having just come, my dick twitches in interest.
All I can do is nod.
He releases me then, and I turn on the water, waiting for it to heat up before pushing my boxers off. I don’t look behind me to see what Preston’s doing. I don’t dare. Instead, I step in under the spray and brace my hands on the wall, letting the water pour over my head.
My only reaction when Preston sets his hands on my hips is a hitch in my breath. Then he slides his hands to my stomach as he presses himself flush against my back. His lips land on the nape of my neck. His soft dick is nestled in my ass.
My stomach clenches with the urge to spin around and haul him into my arms, to rub myself on him until he smells like me, until he wears burns from my stubble and bruises from my hands. I want to sink into him, fill him up, flood him with my cum, so he’s covered in me inside and out.
The desire is staggering. It knocks me over and makes it difficult to breathe.
Preston’s hands roam over my front, his fingers seeking out all the bumps and dips of my muscles. He moves up to my pecs, palming them and squeezing them until my nipples are so hard they ache. Then he flicks his thumbs over them and I let out a deep, guttural groan.
“Does that feel good?” Preston asks.
I nod jerkily.
He does it again and I let go of the wall to grab his hands. It’s too much. It’s not enough. He’s killing me and it’s the sweetest death.
“Sawyer?” Preston’s lips move on the back of my neck and he squeezes my pecs again. He stretches, rubbing his body across my back, his cock starting to grow against my ass.
I can’t stand it anymore. I turn to find Preston gloriously wet. His black hair is slicked away from his face. Water droplets hang from his clumped lashes, from the tip of his nose. His normally pale cheeks have taken on a rosy hue and his lips are swollen and bruised from my kisses.
I growl and grab him. I can’t help it. This is my every dream come true, my wildest fantasies. How can I walk away from this? How can I set boundaries when Preston presents himself so unassumingly?
Preston makes a soft, moaning sound when I capture his lips. My arms wind around him, bending him backward to mold him to me. He hugs me tight around the neck and hikes one leg up my hip. We’re both hard again, this time without the barrier of underwear between us.
His cock is caught between our stomachs and he keeps rutting against me like he can’t stop himself.
There’s something incredibly erotic about Preston using me to get off.
Like I’m nothing more than a convenient surface, a toy he happens to have on hand.
He’s seeking his own pleasure, laser-focused on it, determined to chase the climax and I’m just a tool he uses to get there.
My hands move to his ass and I’ve never been so thankful for all the weight lifting I’ve done over the years. I widen my stance on the slippery tile floor, bend my knees for stability, and hoist Preston off his feet.
He squeals at being airborne, but his legs automatically go around my waist and he clings to me like a koala to a tree. I shuffle to the side and pin him to the wall with my weight.
Shower kisses with Preston might be better than normal, non-shower kisses with Preston.
It’s slippery and messy and wet and somehow, we both end up smiling and giggling as we nip and lick at each other.
I follow the rivulets of water as they sluice down his neck, lap at the hollow of his collarbone, and take his pulse with my lips.
He has a smattering of dark hair in the middle of his chest and it narrows to a thin trail like an arrow pointing the way to his cock. His beautiful, flawless specimen of a cock. He’s not super long or super thick, but when I curl my fingers around it, it’s a perfect fit.
I hold it for a moment, savoring the feeling. The weight of it, the heat of it, the veins running along its length. The bulbous mushroom head is swollen and smooth, just begging for me to wrap my lips around it.
I give it an experimental stroke and Preston drops his head back against the wall with a strangled cry. His lashes flutter and his mouth hangs open.
I pump my hand again, squeezing a little tighter this time. He cries louder and digs his fingers into my shoulders.
I swipe my thumb over the head, circling around and around the slit.
“Sawyer!”
Fuck, I love the sound of my name when he says it like that. Pleading. Desperate. Wild and untamed.
I jerk and tug on his cock, watching the expressions flitting across Preston’s face to find just the right pressure, rhythm, angle. My own cock throbs where it pokes Preston’s ass, so close to his hole, so close to being inside him.
Preston’s voice is frighteningly high, and his body grows taut as he nears his climax. I don’t stop, don’t let up, pushing him hard and fast toward the finish line. When he comes, his cum spills from his cock and covers my hand.
I bring my hand up to my mouth, licking up the salty, bitter goodness before the shower can wash it down the drain. Preston watches me with half-lidded eyes, and when my hand is clean, he pulls me to him.
I don’t realize what he’s doing until he thrusts his tongue between my lips, licking and searching. Fuck. He’s trying to eat his own cum from my mouth. It’s so unexpected, so unlike Preston, so fucking hot, that it tips me over my own finish line.
I reach under Preston’s ass as I hit the peak and I jerk myself the rest of the way. I spray the wall while Preston sucks up every last, lingering drop of his cum.
I love this man. I love him so fucking much. I’m so fucked.