11. Tyler
11
TYLER
"So, I did something in one of my classes this week. I hope it's okay."
My leg is bouncing excitedly. It's dumb. It’s just a class assignment, and it’s not like he's actually going to use it, but I'm ridiculously excited to show him. I'm like a kindergartener bringing home their first macaroni necklace.
If he hates it, that's okay. I’ll be bummed, but I won’t be upset. This project is going to make up a huge portion of my final grade for this class, and I'm proud of how it's turning out so far. I've worked on it most of the week and throughout the weekend, while Isaac installed flooring. He finished last night, so we're going to celebrate by going to Sunday brunch at The Nook later this morning.
"It's not done, but now seems like a good time."
I'm holding my laptop against my chest, nervous to show him because it's probably childish. He looks gorgeous all sleep rumpled, grinning at me like he's won some kind of prize other than getting to sleep in this morning. For someone who comes across so stoic and quiet, he really is one of the happiest people I've ever met. He never stops smiling at me, like everything I do is something special. Yesterday I punched the bag hard enough to make it move and he lifted me up and spun me around like I'd won a medal. I'd be wary and weirded out if it didn't feel so genuine coming from him. Then again, maybe I'm just starved for positive attention.
"Are you going to show me or not?" Isaac asks, laughing.
"It's okay if you think it's dumb."
"Come on, I wanna see," he says, making grabby hands at my laptop.
"Okay," I say, and take a breath to steady my nerves. Scooting closer to Isaac, I settle into his side, tucked into the crook of his arm. " Mmm , you're so warm."
"Tyler," he growls, but his warning is lighthearted, making me laugh.
"Fine. Here."
Instead of giving him a big speech about what he's looking at, I pass him the laptop so he can look for himself. I side-eye him while he looks it over, waiting to see any kind of reaction, but he just stares at the screen, using the directional pad to scroll up and down and around the 3D image. I've shown him this program before, because he seemed interested when I talked about 3D modeling, but I hope he recognizes what it is.
"This is my gym," he says thoughtfully. "You… this is… wow." He turns his head away from the screen to look down at me. "You really made this?"
"Yeah. I hope it's okay to use your gym as the subject for my final project. I thought, since I'm here all the time and I've gotten a good feel for the place, and I used your measurements, plus remember when I asked to see your equipment list?" He nods, watching me closely. "Well, I got all the specs from that list, or called the manufacturer if I didn't have enough information. Every piece of the design is true to size and function, so there's the correct recommended space behind each treadmill, for example. And—" I reach over and click to change the screen to another version. "You mentioned that the one thing you felt you were missing was a ring, but there's no room for it, right?"
He just stares at me, waiting for more. He's either going to laugh at me or throw me a parade when I'm done. He's definitely not upset, though, so that's what really counts.
”Anyway, I played around with the space, and took some more measurements, then researched the equipment you use.” Pause for dramatic effect . “If you cut your cardio equipment by twenty percent, specifically to one treadmill and one stationary bike in this brand and model, you could not only fit a small practice ring, but the space will feel more open. You’d even out the cost of the equipment, too.”
He's quiet for a few minutes, reading over my notes then moving the camera angle on the 3D image of his prospective gym setup.
"You're a fucking genius, Ty. You really… all of this is legit?"
"Yeah, every aspect is based on true data, just as if you were hiring a high-tech design firm."
"Shit. This is amazing!"
"Yeah? You like it? You don't mind me using your gym as a dummy build?"
"I don't just not mind. Can I—can we—use these plans for real?"
"Seriously?"
"Fuck yeah, seriously. You solved almost all my problems at once with this. I feel like I should be hiring you for real."
Even if he's just placating me to make me feel good, his excitement over my project makes me feel like I can do anything. He makes me feel like I can do anything.
"Oh shit, you even did the kitchen and office?"
I nod. "And once I can see and get measurements for the apartment upstairs, I can do that, too."
"You are exceptional, Tyler. I hope your teachers realize that. If not, send me their email addresses. I'll send them updates and photos of the real finished project."
"Thank you," I say, pushing my face into his neck.
"I don't know what you're thanking me for. I'm the one that should be thanking you. Or paying you." The subtle way his jaw tightens, and the slight flash of something in his eyes is the only sign that his excitement has dimmed.
Something I've learned about Isaac over the last week is that he's stubborn and hyper-independent. He'll go out of his way to do a two or three person job on his own, and he not only won't ask for help, but he's not likely to accept it when or if it's offered. He seems to think requiring any sort of support or assistance is a personal failing. I have no doubt he's beating himself up over using my plans and not paying me. It's the same reaction he has if I pay for dinner, or if I order something he needs. I had to pretend the fan rentals were because the smell of paint bothers me so he would even accept the delivery, and then he felt bad for not finding a way to get the fans on his own.
It's ridiculous. I've been taking up his space, time, and attention for over a week and he's likely behind schedule because of it. Whatever pressure he puts on himself is never applied to other people. In fact, he has the opposite reaction to anyone else needing help. He takes on other people's needs as his personal responsibility. It's that self-sacrificing nature that encouraged him to take in a stranger in the first place, and then to let me stay.
He thinks I don't know what he's doing, but I see the way he's taken on my abysmal self-confidence as a personal pet project. He pulls out all the stops to build me up about anything he perceives to be a win, no matter how small the accomplishment is, as if everything I do is magic. I won't lie and say it isn't working. The way he flirts has an especially potent effect on me, to the point that I sometimes forget he's only doing this stuff to help me.
"You’re basically paying me by letting me use you as a guinea pig for my class, but if you like, you can pay me in kisses and orgasms," I say, nudging him playfully.
There has been a lot of playful teasing the past few days since we had our talk about pumping the brakes, but he's stayed true to his word. We spend a lot of time kissing and touching, but largely above the belt. It's driving me insane, and I know he knows what he's doing to me. It's worse than puberty. I'm hard all the time, and he's yet to do anything about it. I haven't pressed, because even though he agreed to help teach me about sex, I don't want to guilt him into touching me again. He was right that what happened in the shower. It wasn't healthy. It wasn't something I'd intended, but I can see now how my behavior and emotional outburst made him feel like he had to comfort me. Desperation aside, I don't want to guilt or coerce him.
He's good at making me feel like he actually wants me. Every time I turn around, he's watching me. If I put my glasses on to work on my schoolwork, he acts like he's drooling and adjusts himself. Even when he's pulling away from me, when the kissing and petting becomes too heavy, he groans like it's the hardest thing he's ever had to do.
"Oh yeah?" Closing my laptop, he stretches himself over my body to set it on the upturned crate next to the bed. I half expect him to tease me again, by laying his body over mine and ghosting his lips over my ear to say something that sounds dirty but isn't. It's his favorite way to tease me, especially if I can feel or see how hard he is.
I hum, hips bucking into him involuntarily. Freezing, I say a silent prayer that he won't stop. Isaac doesn't move away this time. He meets my lips in a slow, passionate kiss that sends a wave of goosebumps over my entire body. Flat on my back, his tongue searches for my soul while I fight to not give it over. I’m warily waiting for the moment he climbs off and smirks that way he does, but he only presses into me, pushing one knee between my legs, and then the other, forcing my legs open in a way that will live rent-free in my head forever. His body settles between my legs, the weight of him pressing me into the mattress, and I lose the fight, going pliant in his arms. The noises I make are needy and desperate, short, gasping breaths and a barely contained whine for him not to stop.
"How do your ribs feel?" he murmurs against my lips, then trails kisses down my jaw to my neck.
I want to lie and say I feel nothing, that they're one hundred percent healed, and he can carry on with the lesson. But he watches me too closely, and if I hurt myself in my desperation for him to do dirty things to me, he'll pull away again.
"Sore but okay," I say, hoping my honesty will encourage him to let me make the decision to keep going rather than make him back off. He's hard between my legs, our sleep pants doing nothing to contain our mutual raging erections.
"Please don't stop," I rasp. He moans and holds me against him, rolling us so I'm on top of him. The absence of his weight on me is disappointing, but I can definitely breathe easier and there's no pressure on my ribs this way.
Straddling his lap, I recapture his mouth and take control of the kiss. Isaac's answering moan reverberates in my bones. His hands grip my hips, move up to my waist, and back down, like he doesn't know where to touch me first. With one hand steadied against his chest, I use the other to move his hand to my ass, pressing down at the same time I roll my hips into him.
"Jesus. Fuck," he curses as I slowly roll my hips into him, guided by the pressure of his hands encouraging me to rock back and forth. The bulge in my pants lines up perfectly with his, and a shiver takes over my body at the prolonged friction. Isaac watches me with heavy-lidded eyes, and I wonder what it would be like to really ride him. To have him inside me while I move on top of him like this. His gaze sets me on fire, and I grind harder, chasing that invisible peak.
"You're so fucking sexy, Tyler. God damn. I can't–"
Bending down, I swallow whatever words he was about to say in a deep kiss, my tongue rolling into his mouth with the same rhythm that my hips are moving. His fingers dig into my ass, and he presses up into me, guiding me to rock against him. I'm panting into his mouth, moaning and whimpering and begging for that last push over the edge. I never want to stop.
His arms come around my body, crossing behind my back and holding me almost too tight while he pushes his hips up. Again, I'm struck with the imagery of him being inside me, holding me like this and using me to get himself off.
"Isaac–"
"Fuck, kitten. You're going to make me–" He stills, and I pull back to watch his face. His mouth parts and he groans the sexiest sound I've ever heard in my life.
Every muscle in my body clenches, and I shudder, gasping as the orgasm shoots through me. All the while, Isaac keeps us moving in the same rhythm, riding out the climax and kissing me through my breathless cries. Even when we stop moving, our kissing continues, until I'm ready to collapse. When I've fully relaxed in his hold, Isaac rolls us again. He moves down my body, kissing and licking a path down my neck and chest. I tremble when his teeth lightly graze over my nipples, and I make a mental note to see what his feel like in my mouth, to see if he's sensitive there, too.
His exploration continues, finding the ticklish spots on my sides, and a major erogenous zone on my hip bones that I didn't know about. I think I could come from him just sucking the flesh there.
From between my legs, Isaac looks up at me, watching my face for a reaction when his fingers tease over the waistband of my sleep pants. I'm hypnotized by the sight of his tattooed hands peeling the front of my pants down until the tip of my cock is exposed. His impossibly dark eyes are locked on mine as his tongue dips to lick some of the cum coating my skin. I suck in a breath, not sure whether the sight or the touch of his warm, wet tongue on my skin is what does it for me more. He does it again, showing me his tongue coated in my sticky mess, before pulling it back into his mouth and closing his eyes like he's just tasted his favorite dessert and wants to savor it.
In response, my cock twitches, already trying to rally. Isaac gives me a knowing smirk, nuzzling my half hard dick as he pulls my pants down lower, fully exposing my cock and balls. Frozen, I watch in wonder as he licks me like a melting popsicle, cleaning every drop of cum that didn't soak into the front of my sleep pants.
"You taste good," he remarks. "So sweet. And so fucking big ."
I let out a strangled cry, my cock going ramrod hard in an instant when Isaac sucks me fully into his mouth.
"Ohmygod," I pant, looking down at him in disbelief. His mouth moves slowly up and down my shaft, eyes looking up as if to make sure I'm watching. But there's no possible way I could look away from the single most erotic thing I've ever seen or experienced. Even the shower can't compare to this.
"Really fucking big," he whispers, maybe to himself. He wraps his tattooed fingers around the base of my cock, squeezing gently and stroking my shaft while he sucks on the head.
"Fucking hell, Isaac. If you keep doing that, I'm gonna–"
" Mmm , come again for me, kitten. I want to taste you some more."
Fireworks go off behind my eyes as my brain malfunctions. My hips move without direction, trying to thrust in the air. My cock hits the back of his throat and I cry out, wanting to apologize, but he keeps bobbing up and down. Saliva drips down in rushing rivulets that wet his fist, making his strokes squelch. My legs tremble violently. My lungs seize up. My vision goes dark. And I shoot into Isaac's waiting mouth. He swallows every drop, using his tongue and lips to slurp up the remnants of my orgasm.