Chapter 13 - Darius
DARIUS
This is not what I expected after the last week with Harry.
He was just starting to let me in, the dinner and skating was so .
. . innocent. Sweet. Holding hands on the ice.
Kissing in my car in front of his building.
When he invited me over, I figured we’d eat some pizza and watch a smarty-pants movie that would fly over my head.
Nope. Instead, I’m in my jockstrap, squatting over his face, while we both finger bang each other into oblivion.
It’s fucking hot as hell. Harry, with those damn curls and innocent face bossing me around.
Smelling every inch of me, even though I’m a sweaty mess from practice.
People think coaching peewee means you’re just on the sides screaming at the kids the entire time.
It’s actually the opposite. I demonstrate every movement, making sure they understand the technique and feel confident before trying it themselves.
It’s my job to actively engage and guide them through each step, creating a learning environment where they can absorb and mimic the skills in real time.
Kinda like what Harry’s doing right now with my hole.
“Fuck, Harry, you’re, you’re . . .”
“You like that, Coach?”
He’s got at least two fingers inside me. But he’s not just pounding away like some straight dude in a porno. Harry’s got a technique, and he’s, well, coaching me.
His fingers are rotating as he moves them in and out.
And he’s not pulling them all the way out.
He leaves them in, simply gliding them back and forth.
The lube helps him go deeper, but every so often, he spits too.
Saliva on its own isn’t going to do the trick, but a saliva chaser on top of lube works surprisingly well.
He’s using his free hand to keep me spread, allowing the one inside me to go further, and while I’ve never experienced it before, I’m fairly certain he’s hitting my prostate, because my hips are shaking in a way that’s never happened before, and there’s precum leaking out of my cock like a dripping faucet.
“Harry, if you want me to fuck you, you need to stop.”
Without a word, he pulls out, slapping my ass cheek before leaning forward and kissing it. He lowers his legs, and my fingers slip out of him. All three of them. He’s more than ready to take me.
He pats my ass again, giving me a little nudge, and I move off him.
“I need a quick drink of water. Want some?”
I’m not really thirsty, but I also know it’s a good idea to hydrate during strenuous activities.
“Okay.”
I move to the couch and watch Harry push himself up. He heads to a cabinet in the kitchen, his boner bouncing as he walks.
He’s behind me now, but I can hear water from the sink, followed by him washing his hands and filling the glasses.
“You okay if I take this jock off?” I pull on the waistband, my dick eager for freedom.
He’s behind me, presenting a small glass of water over my shoulder. I take it, and he leans down, kissing my neck, making all sorts of new nerves come alive. “Wait. Let me do it.”
Harry sits next to me. Not on the other side of the couch, but right next to me. The entire side of his body is plastered against mine, like we’re connected by sticky tape. He’s out of breath—probably from being suffocated by my ass, and he gulps his water quickly.
“Before we . . . move on, let’s chat about sexual health.” He takes the last sip of his water, and sets his glass down on the coffee table he moved to the edge of the rug. “I haven’t had a boyfriend . . . in a long time.”
“Harry, you’re twenty-eight.”
“Since high school. But I’ve dated. Had some encounters. I’m tested regularly. Clear results across the board.”
A burning ignites in my core, thinking of Harry with other men. I take a sip of my water attempting to extinguish it and smile. I have no right being jealous.
“I haven’t been with anyone in three years,” I say. “I get tested at my yearly physical, which was last summer.”
Harry edges forward, reaches under the couch, and pulls out a strip of condoms. “Let’s use these. Just to be safe. If things . . . continue, we can talk more about it. Sound good?”
He holds the condoms up, and they fall. There’s four of them. I’m not sure what he’s expecting, but I nod. “Sure. Of course. Happy to suit up.”
“How about I put it on for you?”
“Um, sure. Okay.”
Harry takes my almost empty glass and puts it on the table next to his.
When he returns to the sofa, he pushes my legs apart and kneels before me.
My dick, still raging hard and desperate to escape the confines of the jockstrap, becomes even firmer as his fingers crawl under the waistband and brush against the tip.
With a quick glance and a smirk so delicious I could eat it for dinner, Harry pulls the fabric down, finally freeing my cock.
“There we go.” He runs his fingers over it, catching the precum on this thumb and rubbing it against the head. “You’re horny.”
“Yeah, how’d you figure that out?”
He pulls my entire shaft back, then lets it go. A loud slap echoes in the room. “Lucky guess.”
With a quick rip, Harry removes the condom, holds my erection up, and places it at the tip. It slides down easily, a snug fit, but there will be no complaints from me. He squirts some lube on me then nods, and I take over, spreading the lube over my cock, while he adds more to his ass.
“How did you want to . . .” My dick pulses in my hand, so ready to be inside him.
“Let’s start like this.” He pushes me against the back cushions of the sofa. “I’ll ride you.”
He raises his eyebrows, and I nod. Perhaps a little too eagerly.
Harry climbs on my lap, his knees near my waist straddling me, reaches back, and grasps my cock. He places it at his hole then rests his palms on my chest.
“Easy now,” he says.
I take hold of his waist. Peering up at him like this, with the light from the kitchen shrouding him, he looks like a fucking angel. I’m not religious, but right now, I feel like I should pray and thank someone.
“I’m in no rush, Harry.”
My thumb coasts over his hip bone, trying to take in every ounce of him.
After all these years, it’s happening. Well, it sort of happened at the semi-finals, but this is something different.
Not because of the fucking. Because we’re in his place.
We’ve been on a real date. Dinner. Skating.
He asked me over. We had pizza and salad. This is more.
As he guides me in, he bites at his lower lip.
He’s slow at first, taking some deep breaths, waiting, then accepting more.
I had three of my fingers inside him, no problem, but my cock is fatter.
Longer. Harder. I do my best to focus on Harry’s beautiful face.
His body connecting with mine. But really, being inside him this way, my dick feels like it’s marching in a damn ticker-tape parade.
“There we go,” he says. He’s lowered himself down. I’m completely inside him. “You okay?”
“Me?” I ask, trying to ignore the fluttering in my belly. “Better than okay. I’m fantastic. Harry, this is . . .”
“Awesome.” He pushes a long breath out of pursed lips.
“Yeah, awesome. Does it feel good?” My eyes scan his face, his mouth so fucking beautiful I want to take a picture and make it my phone’s background.
He nods, eyes focused on mine. “Darius, you feel amazing.”
There’s a smile on his face when he says it, and I can feel him relaxing, letting my cock settle inside him.
“Harry. You . . . you . . .” My mind zooms, searching for the right words to convey how he feels.
Not just the sex, but him. Being in his place.
So close. Connected to him in a way I only dreamed about.
“You really have to know how sorry I am. About being a jerk. About teasing you. I was crushing on you so bad, and, and . . .”
“Coach.” He places a finger over my lips. “No more apologizing. You’ve already made it up to me.”
I kiss the tip of his finger then take it in my mouth, gently sucking as he picks up the pace, his hard-on bobbing like a buoy while he bounces on my dick.
I’m focused on the feeling, the pleasure, being inside him, and then Harry starts making these noises.
It sounds like a whimper but then kind of morphs into a moan.
He’s thrown his head back, clearly enjoying himself—which only makes me harder.
“Peterson. I’ve wanted you since you walked into the teacher’s lounge talking about wanting to fuck Wolverine.”
I lift my hips, plunging into him as he massages my chest, eyes rolling back.
“Wolverine?” This seems to bring him out of his sex stupor. “Huh?”
“Nothing. I was just saying I’ve wanted you for a long time. Since that first day you were talking about Wolverine.”
“Are you trying to turn me on more by talking about Hugh Jackman?”
Without letting go of Harry’s hips, my thrusting pauses. “Are you really talking about how hot you think Wolverine is while I’m literally inside you?”
He shrugs, leans over and plants a sloppy kiss on my mouth.
When he pulls back I say, “I’m not jealous of Wolverine. He may have giant claws, but I’ve got this.”
I move my hands down, spreading his ass wide, and ram my dick deep. The moan that comes out of Harry’s mouth sends shivers down my spine, and he bends to reward me with another kiss.
“How about a new position, Coach?”
“What did you have in mind?”
Harry carefully dismounts me, gives my cock a quick stroke, grabs my half full glass from the coffee table, and gulps it down.
“Between your fingers and riding you, you’ve opened me right up.” He wipes his mouth, returns the glass, then bends over the couch.
He crosses his arms over the cushions on the back, pulls his knees on the sofa, and juts his ass out. With a glance over his shoulder, he says, “C’mere, Coach. Ready to hammer me home?”
“Fuck, Harry.”
I stand and move behind him, taking in the view before resuming.
“What’s wrong? Do we need more lube?” He grabs the tube from the sofa and hands it back.