Chapter 12 #2
Lawson draws his leg upwards as I settle behind him, opening himself up for me.
The first touch of my fingers has him sighing in relief.
I run dry knuckles featherlight across his skin, waking up nerve endings before I trail oil-wet fingers over and around his hole.
One slips inside of him easily, the man still relaxed from earlier and eager, apparently, for more.
“You like this?” I ask, knowing he never had another’s hand inside him before today.
“I do. You don’t mind it?”
“I like it quite a lot,” I tell him truthfully, adding another finger and working him open. “Knowing I’m making someone feel good? I could keep at it all day.”
“Really,” Lawson says, sounding almost contemplative. “Well, I won’t stop you.”
I huff a laugh, leaning down to scrape my stubble across Lawson’s ass cheek. He jolts beneath me before sagging again.
“I think I get it now,” he says somewhat breathily.
“What’s that?”
“The, uh…beard burn thing.”
A smile quirks my lips. “Mhm.”
“Another finger?”
I oblige, slipping three in, the accommodation of Lawson’s body captivating to see. His cock is plumping now, the base of it visible at this angle. It’s strangely heady to know that, for Lawson, arousal is more a choice than anything. And he chose me.
“Oak. Your cock.”
“Demanding, aren’t you?” I mutter, playing with his prostate for a moment just to see him sink into the bedding.
“You can… spend an hour fucking me if you… feel like taking your time. But enough… of the teasing.”
I slip away from Lawson to grab a condom, the man watching me pass by. His eyes home in on my dick, and Christ. That look in his eye. Like he’s desperate for it.
The mattress depresses as I climb back on, settling between his legs.
I roll on the condom, my cock rock-hard, lube wetting the surface as I run a fist over myself to spread the moisture.
I sink lower and line up, a single second stretching into a lifetime as I catch Lawson’s eye.
He doesn’t hold my gaze, instead turning his face into the comforter, but the noise he lets out as I press inside of him is one I’m not sure I’ll ever forget.
“This better?” I ask him, sinking deep, meeting his ass with my hips and holding there.
My friend of forty-three years huffs a breath and says, “You want a gold star? Earn it.”
Jesus goddamn Christ.
“You might regret saying that.”
“I don’t think I will,” he murmurs, shifting his hips enough to grind back on me. “C’mon. Fuck me.”
“All right, princess. Hold on to something.”
“Princess?” he asks, looking back at me. His cheeks are red, and my heart stutters at the sight.
“Yeah,” I say roughly. “You want me to pamper you, isn’t that right? You wanna feel good? Grab that pillow right there and settle in. I’m just getting started.”
Lawson blinks owl-round eyes at me, his mouth parted, the want clear on his face. Ever so slowly, he reaches up to grab a pillow from the top of the bed. The moment he’s comfortable, arms wrapped around it and cheek resting on top, I pull my hips back and thrust in deep.
We groan in tandem, and I don’t hold back.
I fuck into him hard for long minutes, my body bowed over his, Lawson panting against the pillow as I find spots on his skin to abrade.
His shoulders, his neck, the tender spot behind his ear.
I drag my lips everywhere I can over warm skin and muscle, the urge to latch on to this man and never let go hard to resist.
When Lawson gets close, I ease him back down, fucking him slowly, grinding against him with my hand holding tight to his thigh. I half expect him to demand I make him come already, but he doesn’t. He lies there, blissed out, looking so damn content I can feel myself slipping.
It’ll be a long way to fall if I do.
So I don’t.
I remind myself of what this is and pick up the pace again.
Every time Lawson sounds a hair’s breadth away from orgasm, I slow back down.
Sweat starts to gleam on his skin. My own, too.
I run my hand and lips over his body wherever I can reach, holding his leg wide open.
Leaving pink patches over the sun-tanned skin of his shoulders.
Looping my arm under his chest for better purchase and grinding, grinding, grinding until he starts clamping down on my dick.
I don’t want it to end. And it takes me a while to realize why that is.
Because there wasn’t supposed to be a second time. And there may not ever be a third.
It takes near an hour for Lawson to break. “Oak,” he croaks out, the pleading in his voice unmistakable.
“Needa come, princess?”
In answer, he grabs my hand off his leg and shoves it down between him and the bed. I take the blatant hint and wrap my fingers around his cock. It doesn’t take any time at all after being edged for so long. Lawson starts clamping down on my dick, I stroke him once, twice, and he flies.
I tuck my face against Lawson’s shoulder as I join him in the clouds. His cries of pleasure burrow somewhere deep inside of me, the ecstasy in the sound, the relief and aching joy, a confirmation to those suspicions I boxed up and buried so long ago.
The sun is low in the sky now, slanting through the window in streaks of dimly lit gold. It brings to mind summers long past and two kids chasing pixie dust under the shade of a willow.
Except this, right here, isn’t pretend. It’s not make-believe.
No, my feelings for my friend are starkly, painfully real.