Chapter Seven - 7. The Tears
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Tears
As soon as the words left me, I wished I could take them back. They had sounded a bit too revealing.
Taylor stood in front of the bed, just watching me.
I needed to cut the tension. “Look,” I said, gesturing at my room. “I was telling the truth. I moved around furniture with Matty.”
“Huh.” His gaze didn’t leave mine.
“You don’t sound impressed.”
“I don’t care about your bedroom layout, Archie.” He wet his lower lip.
“Um.” I felt weird. Probably because nothing was happening. I knew what I wanted to happen, and I didn’t have to look down to know my boner was obvious through my pants.
I waited for Taylor to take his clothes off, but he just stood there, watching me. I opened my mouth to ask him to, but I couldn’t.
Fuck. It hadn’t been awkward the last time we did this. But last time, I didn’t have a chance to feel awkward, because I was being forced — well, “forced”. I had to do all the things he said because that was playing by the rules, being a good sport.
It had been easier to do this when it was a game, a dare, a competition. Now, it felt impossible to say, I want you to have sex with me, and to know that he knew I meant it.
“D’you wanna play that thing again?” I blurted.
“…FIFA?”
“No!” I said. Quietly, I explained, “the competition.”
Emotions flashed over Taylor’s face, too fast to read. He crossed his arms, the corner of his lips tugging up. “Still bitter you lost last time?”
“Piss off. I won before that.”
“That didn’t count.”
“Yeah it did. It’s not my fault you’re a sore loser.”
“It didn’t count, you broke the rules —”
I sighed loudly over him. “Whatever. The point is, do you want a rematch?” My voice went a little high at the end. Maybe it was obvious I felt nervous.
He looked at me. “Sure,” he said, barely a breath. “The rules?”
“Same as last time,” I said, thinking of how we’d rolled around on the rug in the living room, our cocks rubbing up against each other. “First to cum loses.”
“And the prize?”
“Also the same. The loser is the winner’s slave for a single night.”
“Fine.” He nodded at me. “Take your clothes off.”
“Don’t boss me around. You haven’t won yet.”
“Take your clothes off Archie, please.”
“You take your clothes off.” I crossed my arms, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I was, just lying in front of him.
“I asked you first.”
“Don’t care —” I began, just as Taylor climbed onto the bed and started tugging at my shirt.
I shoved him away and started pulling at his, rolling us over so I was on top, my legs straddling him.
I grabbed the hem of his shirt and he raised his arms, letting me slide it off.
He had such nice shoulders. Just beneath his ribcage was the bruise I’d given him, now an ugly mustard colour.
I grazed my fingers over it. Then I leaned down and kissed it.
He made a noise.
I looked up at him. “Does it hurt?”
“No.” He combed his fingers through my hair, almost tentatively.
I kissed up the ridge in the centre of his abs, and then his pecs, and then his collarbone, and then his neck and the underside of his jaw which was ever so slightly prickly with stubble.
I’d never seen Taylor hairy. He probably shaved every morning without fail. Another one of his clean-freak habits.
He let out soft sighs as I kissed along his jaw, reaching the skin under his earlobe.
“This is kinda gay,” I murmured.
“Oh, is it?” he laughed. Then slid his hand down the band of my pants, cupping my ass, his hands squeezing tightly, but not so roughly that it hurt.
“Take these off,” he said, thumbs playing with the waistband. Then, as if he could read my mind, “please.”
I shucked my pants off, and Taylor pushed me so I was on my back, my head resting against the pillows. The outline of his erection was obvious. He didn’t take his pants off, though, but lowered himself so he was lying on his belly.
“Lube,” he ordered, sticking an expectant hand out.
Bossy, I thought, but dug the bottle out of my bedside table and handed it to him.
“I want to finger you again.”
“Okay.”
He slicked up his fingers and gently rubbed my entrance. The lube was cold at first, but it quickly warmed up against my skin.
My body tensed as he pushed a single finger in, but I forced myself to relax as he rubbed up against the wall. When he found my prostate, my legs jerked wider apart and I gritted my teeth to stop myself from making any embarrassing noises.
He pressed a kiss against my balls, and I propped myself up on my elbows so I could look at him. The sight of him lying there, between my legs, did things to my stomach.
“Can I blow you?” he asked.
“If you want.” I sounded like a blushing virgin again. “I mean, yeah. Fuck yeah.”
Taylor curled his other hand around the base of my dick, and pressed his pretty lips against the head.
My breath caught in my throat as I watched him take the length into his mouth, and for a second, something inside me twinged, because he did it so smoothly, so confidently, I thought, shit. He’s done this before.
Then, as his lips met his hand around the base, he choked, a full body spasm, and took his mouth off.
“Sorry,” he said, wiping the spit off his chin with the back of his hand.
“You’re right,” I said, voice unsteady.
He tried again, this time focusing on the sensitive tip. He looked down, black eyelashes fanning and looking ridiculously delicate. Then he curled his finger inside me, and I twitched, almost crushing his head with my thighs.
He looked up at me. Good? he asked with his eyes.
Shut up, I replied noiselessly, and slumped against the pillows when he curled his fingers inside me again.
He pushed another finger in, and that was good, and it was better when his tongue swirled against my frenulum, making my abs grow tight. Suddenly, I noticed all the wet noises he was making, and when he began to shallow thrust his fingers into me, I gasped.
“I— I’ll come if you don’t stop.”
Part of me thought he’d continue, just to spite me, or to embarrass me, or — and it was just occurring to me now — to win that stupid competition I’d suggested and completely forgotten about. But he took his mouth off me and pulled his fingers out, leaving me stretched and empty.
“Was that good?” he asked, sounding raw.
“Was that your first time?” I asked.
“Did it seem like it?”
“No,” I said, because it was the truth, and also, because (for once) I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
“It was. My first time sucking dick, that is. Obviously I’ve fingered you before.”
“You were good,” I said. I stared up at the ceiling, feeling the pleasure that had built up in me start to recede.
When I felt like I’d properly recovered, I scooched up a bit and reached for him.
With my hands on both of his hips, I pulled him over, until he was hovering above my chest, one knee on either side of me, his erection just inches from my chin. “Want me to return the favour?”
His cock twitched. “I…”
I wrapped a hand around the root of him, pointing the head towards my mouth, letting my hot exhale gust over him.
He groaned, falling forward, and catching himself with one hand on the headboard. “I…no.”
I froze, my hand letting go of him. “No?”
“If you do,” he gritted out, “I’ll come immediately.” With a composing sigh, he let go of the headboard and gripped the base of his erection, hard. “I don’t want to finish yet,” he said. Something flickered in his eyes. “And I don’t want to lose.”
Right. The competition.
“Let’s just fuck already,” he said.
I didn’t argue. I didn’t want to argue. So I manoeuvred him out of the way and turned over, so I was on my hands and knees.
“What are you doing?”
“This position is more comfortable,” I said to the pillow in front of me.
“You know that from practising with your toy?” He shuffled behind me.
“Mm-hmm.” Actually, I’d only used the dildo a little bit this way, but I didn’t want to look in Taylor’s eyes. It’d be too much.
I was better prepared now. The first time, everything had been new and confusing, but this was strictly about fucking — and, well, winning.
Something cold drizzled down my crack, and I bit back a hiss. Taylor rubbed the lube into slow circles around my entrance. “Condom?” he asked.
“Same drawer.”
He placed a hand on the centre of my back, keeping me put, and leaned over to reach for the drawer. I don’t know why he did that. To make sure I wouldn’t escape? To make me feel helpless?
I kept my eyes on the bedsheets underneath me, then folded my arms and rested my forehead against them, closing my eyes. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
The head of Taylor’s cock nudged my ass.
He moved closer, one hand spreading a cheek, and I concentrated on relaxing as he pushed against my entrance.
Slowly, he eased inside, pausing every few moments to let me adjust. I pressed my lips together, not wanting to make a sound, but when he pressed up against my prostate, my entire body shuddered.
“Does it feel good?” He sounded breathless.
I turned my head to the side. “What do you think?” I bit out.
He laughed, which annoyed me, because this really wasn’t the time. Slowly, he drew out then thrust in, and it felt good, and it was considerate of him to be gentle, but I soon realised that he was going at such a glacial pace, he was probably trying to drive me insane.
I backed up on him, trying to communicate what I wanted without actually having to speak.
He stifled another laugh, then thrust in so hard, my entire body shoved forward on the mattress.
“Was that too h—”
“Shut up,” I said, “and do it again.”
He kept up the pace and I dug my fingers into the sheet underneath me, feeling the sweat gather at the nape of my neck and down my back. With every thrust, my brain went momentarily blank, like my mind was being whited out. Between my legs, my cock was heavy and leaking pre-cum.
“Fuck,” he said, voice low. “I almost forgot how good this was.”
I whimpered in response.