Epilogue One Year Later #2
He’s slathering lube up and down my shaft, running over the tip, and then, because Harry is always thorough, he even rubs some on my balls for good measure.
“C’mere.” I curl my finger toward my face and he bends over, kissing me. “How did I get so lucky?”
“Fortune favors the bold.” He keeps his face near mine, the warmth of his sweet breath making my body hum in anticipation as he applies lube to himself. “You were brave that night in the hotel.” He straddles me, and I grab onto his ass, spreading him wide. “And that’s your reward.”
“Peaches and pucks,” I say, pulling his cheeks apart even further. “Two of my favorite things.”
Harry smiles, and I adjust myself until my cock finds its target and he slowly lets me in. No matter how much time passes, I will never take for granted the privilege and experience of being inside Harry Peterson.
Lying back while he settles, I stare up at his face. His chest. His beautiful pits when he places his hands behind his head and takes in a deep breath. Harry has become my salve for this thing called life.
After a minute, he moves up, pauses, then lowers himself. All the way, as my cock slots into place like a perfect shot.
He leans forward on my chest, pulses his ass up and down, fucking my dick. My eyes want to close, to take in the extreme bliss, but I don’t want to stop watching him.
“Everything good?” I ask.
“Amazing. Your cock feels like heaven.” His right hand moves behind and grazes my balls.
He’s massaging them, but soon moves south, spreading my hole with his fingers, patting the perimeter, all while he continues riding me.
“Fantastic coordination, Peterson.” Craving more contact, I run my hands up and down his thighs. “Ever think about playing hockey?”
“Not interested.” A finger slowly enters me, awaking every nerve in my ass. “But I hear the coach is hot. Maybe I could bang him?”
Laughter spills out of me, and Harry brings his hand up to his mouth, spits, and returns to his work. The saliva adds more slickness to the lube, and, noticing the precum dripping from his flopping erection, I grab it and give it a few strokes.
“I heard he has a thing for adorable English teachers.” I thrust up, giving him a jolt that widens his eyes.
“Fuck, yes.”
He’s abandoned our banter, too lost in the sex, and I move both hands to his waist, grabbing tight while I fuck up. Staring up at him. His face. Body. The way his hard cock bounces as he rides me. It doesn’t take long for my orgasm to emerge from the recesses of my soul, and I need to tell him.
“I’m close.”
“Okay, hold on,” He pauses, shifts off me, and then moves beside me on all fours.
This is why I warned him. Harry always has another idea.
“How about from behind?” He’s arching his back, and I’m already behind him, taking in the view.
His glorious hole, wet with lube and precum, open and ready—the mere thought of railing him this way, filling him up, makes my dick pulse, but there’s something else I want.
“Do you mind lying on your back?”
Harry glances back, a soft smile on his lips. He flops over, hoists his legs up, and I’m over him.
“I want to see your face. Kiss you.” I bite my lower lip, but Harry just pulls me close, grabbing my ass as I enter him from this position.
“I love you, Coach,” he says.
“Harry, I love you so much it hurts sometimes.” I’m inside him, but I haven’t resumed fucking.
He reaches up, cups my face, and smiles. And this feeling—studying his face, being inside him, our bodies stacked—I’d like to freeze this moment like a puck in the crease.
“I’m close.” He lifts his pelvis, bucking against me, and I remember why I’m here.
I lift my torso, holding onto his ankles, and pound away. With each slam, Harry’s smile widens. His eyes open, but they’ve rolled back. He’s close, too.
Letting go of one leg, I grab his cock and stroke. Between fucking and jerking him, I’m working up a sweat, but damn if he isn’t worth it.
“Keep doing that,” he pleads. “Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck me, Darius. Harder. Please. Fuck the cum out of me.”
His body shakes, but I don’t stop. I can feel his hole contracting around me as thick ropes coat his chest, stomach, and my fingers, and his face, flush and glowing, lights up. This is another way Harry has let his guard down. Lets me in.
As his body relaxes, witnessing him come undone summons my orgasm.
“Harry, I’m close. Do you want me to . . .”
“Keep going, Coach. Bury it in the net.”
I laugh at his turn of phrase, pull his legs up, and lean down to kiss him while I complete the play. Harry nips at my lower lip, his tongue skating across my mouth, and I can feel his hole opening up as I plunge deeper, shooting blast after blast inside him.
My moans mix with his, and his hands wrap around the back of my neck. His mouth peppers my face, ear, even my fucking hair.
I roll next to him and bury my face in his chest. We’re a mess and need to clean up, but not yet. I need to hold him for a moment. Be held. Be us.
I breathe in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, grounding myself in his warmth and the safety we’ve built together. It’s been a journey, but damn if every step hasn’t been worth it. No words are necessary. We’ll have to move eventually, but for now, this—us—is everything. The rest can wait.
Taking my shot on Harry was the best decision I ever made. Because somewhere between the mess and the magic, I stopped just surviving and started living.
And love—real love—was right here, waiting for me to be brave enough to choose it.
Thank you for reading!