21. PARKER
TWENTY-ONE
PARKER
Connor goes for my mouth as soon as we reach my bedroom, and I have to duck out of the way before he’s successful. If he gets his mouth on mine, I’ll forget everything. Including washing my hands.
“One moment.”
He gapes at me as I duck into my bathroom. There’s no wall between the bedroom and here, so I can see the exact way he watches me as I flick on the water and scrub animal from my hands. Conishkin might be considered clean, but he’s still an animal, and there’s no way I’m going to be able to do what I want to do with rat germies on my fingers.
Connor drops to sit on the edge of my bed. “This is a cool setup. Think after getting each other off, you can take a shower, and I’ll lie in bed and watch?”
That tickle of nerves gets me again. I can’t imagine how life would be to go through it with the confidence Connor has. Even though my sexuality has never been a secret to me, I still had a minor freak-out in the first break during college when I finally downloaded an app and acted on it.
I came out to my parents, and it was a minor shock to them, but they recovered quickly. I never once doubted that they loved and supported me. Yet, it still took me a lot of emotional labor to get to the point where I’m comfortable in my own skin.
Then here’s Connor, always assumed he was straight, in an industry known for its toxic masculinity, and he’s … taking off his shirt.
Oh my.
There’re those abs again.
I dry my hands, turning to watch while I grip the basin behind me. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and when his eyes hook mine, he lifts his hand and beckons me closer with two fingers.
There’s no hesitation over a round two for me, and he seems completely into this, but I need to make sure. Maybe, if this happens again—and I’m trying not to get excited that it seemed to be what he was hinting at—I’d be able to believe it’s actually happening. If I was confident about this whole situation, I’d already be kneeling between his thighs.
Connor casually reaches forward and pops his button.
I swallow thickly. “Umm … what are you okay with?”
“You moving closer would be a start.”
I catch a laugh and finally push away from the basin. My dick is already getting hard, and even trapped in my briefs, I know Connor would be able to see it. These sweats don’t do much to hide anything.
My pulse is drumming faster as I step back into my bedroom and approach him.
“That’s better.” His voice is comforting. Soothing.
When I’m close enough, he reaches for my hand and tugs me in. His hands rest on my hips as I stand in the place I’d hoped I’d end up.
“What are you comfortable with?” he asks.
He treats me like I’m breakable, but when it comes to gay sex, I have more experience than him at this. “I was once spit- roasted by random guys I met on an app. I think I can handle just about anything.”
Pure shock crosses his face. “You … I’m sorry. What?”
My lips pull at a smile. Then I sink to my knees. “I want to suck your cock.”
“Parker …” Connor groans. “Stop this.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop confusing all my opinions of you. It’s too …”
“Confusing?” I smirk.
“ Hot .”
I curl my fingers into his waistband and slowly pull his pants and briefs down. He lifts his hips to help me, and his dick springs out, hard, ready, tip swollen and red. My mouth waters at the sight. “I can act all innocent if you like?”
He quickly shakes his head. “Nah. Virgins aren’t my kink. This is …” I swipe my tongue over his tip, and he chokes on his words. “Just keep going. Damn. You’ve got such a sweet face I want to see it deep-throat me.”
Green light on the blowjob, then. I’m not going to make it easy on him, not when this is something I’ve hated wanting for so long. I used to hate touching myself to the thought of him. Used to beat myself up for not having an ounce of self-respect.
As I lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft and Connor lets out the most deliciously shaky exhale, I come to a very rational conclusion: self-respect is overrated.
If he wants to go all caveman over the first man he’s ever been with, so be it. If he needs to explore this side of himself with me, he can go off.
At the end of the day, I get sex with my dream man, and that’s a perfectly fucking fair trade-off to me.
I bury my nose in the crease between his thigh and his balls. His scent, sucking his balls into my mouth, running my cheek over his shaft … it gets me so horny I can’t concentrate on anything but him.
The more of his skin that I feel, the more I want .
I wrap my lips around his tip and suck gently while I run my tongue over the smooth round head. He’s a decent size, perfectly in proportion with the rest of him, and not obscenely big that if I ever end up bottoming for him, it won’t be as uncomfortable as a colonoscopy. It’s still a good stretch for my jaw though, and it’s been too long since I enjoyed feeling this way. Since I let myself enjoy having a cock in my mouth. Since I teased and took my time. No hurry to get him ready and get us both off.
My entire focus is on making Connor feel good, for as long as possible, and I’m hopeful I’ll get the same.
Maybe not a blowjob. I’m kidding myself to assume his confidence makes him an expert and ready to jump in on it all, but if I get to rub up against him again, I’ll sleep happily tonight.
“More,” he begs, setting a possessive hand on my head.
A sharp thrill races to my cock, and I give him what he needs. I sink down his shaft, slowly taking him all the way into the back of my throat, and he moans as I hold him there for so long I’m threatening my oxygen supply. I pull back when it gets too much and then finally give in to the urge to get him off.
I bob up and down, hand cradling his balls, sucking and licking so much that saliva dribbles out of the corner of my mouth. Instead of gripping my own needy cock, I run my hand over his meaty thigh, getting harder over the feel of the soft hairs under my hands.
He rocks into my mouth, cock nudging deeper, fingers twisting in my hair to grip tighter. The harsh breaths, small hums, and every other noise that falls from his lips torture my trapped dick, but I still refuse to touch. To give in.
“Take … take this off …” He roughly tugs at the collar of my jacket, and I quickly unzip the front and shove it off my arms. Then he pulls from my mouth and hauls me to my feet.
“What are you?—”
Connor shoves my shirt up and tugs my sweats and briefs down so fast my dick flings out and hits my lower stomach. “Get on the bed.”
I’m not about to question whatever he has in mind, so I kick everything off, then lie back, and Connor climbs over the top of me, straddling my waist. His balls rest over my cock as he jerks off fast. He looks close, breathing sharp and shallow, eyes raking over my less-than-impressive torso.
“Touch your nipples,” he grits out. “You have such pretty nipples.”
I reach up to flick my thumb over one, and Connor’s thighs clench.
A second later, his hand stops moving, and he aims his cock at my midsection, emptying his cum onto my skin.
He takes a deep, steadying breath, then leans forward, lips by my ear, and rasps, “It’s your turn to smell like us.”
Then his hand closes over my dick.
The sudden contact has my eyes rolling back. His palm rolls over my leaking tip and smears precum down my cock, and I’m way too sensitive to take this. I’m glad our first time together proved I can last an acceptable length of time because he’s barely touched me, and I’m scared I’m going to burst.
One of the things I’ve always noticed about Connor is his big hands. Unlike him, my dick, thankfully, isn’t in proportion with the rest of me, and I’m a good size, but his hand makes me feel small. Swamped by his warmth. Completely surrounded by the rough skin and firm grip, and fuck. How is anyone supposed to survive this? Let alone me, who’s been picturing this happening against all my better judgment for years and years and?—
“Listen to you,” he teases.
Shit. I hadn’t even noticed the grunts leaving me as I thrust into his hold.
“No, no, don’t stop.” He kisses the hinge of my jaw, forearm holding his weight and resting above my head. “I want to hear you. ”
His words almost make me sob. I’m a self-conscious overthinker, with possibly the sexiest man alive hovering over me. I know I said I was experienced, but maybe I’m not so experienced with this. Sex where it actually means more than an orgasm. Sex with someone I’ve ached to have respect me. See me. Decide I’m worthy of him.
“That’s it …” he encourages, and once again, the sounds I’m making are completely unintentional. But I force myself not to clam up. I try to switch off that shut up cell in my brain and remind myself that I deserve to enjoy this. Whether Connor’s wanting something regular or casual or maybe just this once more, I’m going to get everything I can out of it while I can.
“I’m so close,” I tell him. “Keep doing exactly that.” He squeezes tighter on the upstroke, and I’m panting hard. Desperately ready.
His lips slip from my jaw, down my throat, lightly sucking the spot right above my collar bone. I’m painfully hard, almost delirious with need.
And just as I think I can’t take it anymore, my orgasm crashes into me. My balls throb with every wave of bliss that takes over, and Connor keeps stroking me through the high.
My limbs go slack. My harsh breathing breaks through my consciousness, and then Connor presses a kiss to my temple.
“I’ve decided I love watching you come.”
My lazy smile takes over, and words slip out before I can question them. “Feel free to make it happen as often as you like.”
“Is that an open offer?”
I hum my agreement, still not entirely checked in to what I’m saying.
Connor’s fingers skim my stomach, rubbing our releases into my skin with soothing circles. “I think I’ve changed my mind about that shower. ”
It takes me a second to remember what he’s talking about. “You don’t want me to have one?”
“Nope. What I really want is to take you somewhere. Knowing you smell like me.”
“You really are a possessive fucker.”
“Yeah, but you said you liked it.”
“I did.” And I do. I really, really do.
The problem is I think I like it too much. Connor might look at me and think mine when he’s horny, but we both know it’s not reality.
Role-play is fun.
Until it isn’t.
And I’m worried I might get too used to it too quickly because even the sticky tightness across my skin isn’t enough for me to push the shower thing. I hate being dirty.
But for him, I already can’t get enough.