George
He turned up almost three hours later, the traffic having held him prisoner for what he described as ages.
I didn’t mind. Because he’d been talking to me almost the entire way, enough that my phone battery had died, and now I was confined to the kitchen floor, which was where the charger was. I didn’t dare move it in case the connection dropped.
I really needed to stretch my legs.
“I knew, earlier, that you had finally done it,” he said, like it wasn’t monumental. It still felt like it.
“How?” I questioned, allowing myself to wipe the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve. I was still in my work gear, and this horrible flat was sticky and hot. I needed to open some windows.
“Because you looked happy. Your whole face had changed, from being so very, very stressed and low to being…back to you. The way you should be.”
“I know,” I said carefully.
“And when I get to you, I’m going to give you everything. Everything you want and need.”
“And what is that?” I grinned.
“I’ll give you me. All of me. We both need it. We need to make this proper. Good and proper.”
His choice of words still made me gasp. Perhaps in fake mockery of him.
Of everything that he was. This posh schoolboy who’d turned up at college and made me blush before he’d even opened his mouth.
Just sunshine and smiles. Quiet peace. How he had been the constant.
Always silent and steady to my frazzled nerves, from that very first day when he’d taken a seat next to me.
“I like your glasses,” he’d said. “Cute.”
Everything a terrified gay boy needed to hear. Then he’d filled me with years of laughter. Of angsty feelings. Of knowing he would let me…just be me, however that looked on the day.
He’d loved me. Fiercely and protectively even when I hadn’t had the sense to love him back.
I hadn’t dared to. I was so over that version of me. The one who’d taken this adulthood thing far too seriously.
“I’m never going to do this again,” I promised him, like he could read my thoughts.
“I know you won’t. I won’t let you. You need to be happy.”
“You make me happy.”
He might as well have gifted me the universe the way those words felt on the inside. The way tiny sparkles of happiness trickled down my fingers.
“Go have a shower,” he said, letting his eyes twinkle the way he did.
Mine, my chest shouted.
He was.
“I’m half an hour away. And you need to unlock the door and get yourself ready on the bed because I’ve been all wound up since I left and I really…”
“You need a wee?” I joked.
“I’m hanging up now.” He blew me a kiss. And then he was gone.
Leaving the door downstairs on the latch? Probably not safe or reasonable, but I was running around with a towel around my waist, and finding fault with everything. Were my pillows fluffed up enough? The sheets? Clean, but should I have ironed them? Was my body…
Crap.
I could hear him walking up the stairs. I knew the way he took two steps at a time, his rhythm. The way his arms flailed as he pushed my front door open with his bum.
Which made sense since he was once again carrying a ridiculous amount of roses.
“Babe,” I said. I wanted to roll my eyes, but I couldn’t make myself do it. Because he was leaning over the prickly little fuckers and kissing me breathless.
All him.
All too much.
“I love you,” he said, like this was absolutely normal. “I’m so proud of you. Of everything you’ve done. You’re so brilliant. So brave. So very, very much…” He was holding me at arm’s length, because what else could he do?
The scent of the roses was overwhelming, the prickly stems wounding my skin, but then?
Who didn’t want a ridiculous amount of roses thrust at them?
On a random Thursday afternoon? Evening?
I had lost track of time. Of space and of wonder, because now he was lifting the flowers from my arms and gently placing them on the floor.
Kicking the front door shut behind him with his foot as his trainers flew back out into the hallway.
Who didn’t want all of this? Their world being engulfed in all that he was.
A sleeveless tank top. Athletic shorts. His bronzed skin glowing under that too-long fringe.
He liked to hide behind it. Hide right there with all my secrets.
“I love you.” I said it back because it was all my truths rolled into those three small words.
“Please let me fuck you,” he whispered, the air suddenly all full of sparkles.
“I’ve never done it,” I admitted. Because I could. It was safe. And it would make no difference to him anyway. The power he had over me was immense. The trust he had. The way I knew he would still love me. I could have said no. I could have pushed him away, but I never would have.
This was it. Now or never.
He gently let his fingers grab the towel. Removed it and chucked it to the side, letting me stand there in all my nakedness, the roses as a stupid backdrop in a badly planned-out shoot.
Mine. If this had been our…
“If this had been our final project, we would have got that A+,” he filled in, following my laughter. And his.
“The roses are perfect.” I smiled, letting my hands get busy with his waistband. Tugging at it. Pulling. Getting everything down so I could… I didn’t need to because he was already up. Proud and erect, the warmth of him in the palm of my hand.
I felt like I had won. Won at everything. The way he smiled at me. The way I should have been nervous but wasn’t.
Fear. I’d never heard of it.
“I’ve never done it either.” He grinned. “Only with girls, but anal is different. I’ve read up, and I asked my mate Mischa, and he knows everything about topping.”
“Does he now?” I laughed.
“He does. Has experience and everything. Questions were asked, and he agreed to share. I took notes.”
“Of course you did.”
He kissed me. Just small, soft kisses at the side of my mouth. My cheeks. My eyelids.
“On the bed,” he demanded, leading me backwards to those crumpled sheets.
I wondered why I’d even bothered because he was suddenly everywhere. His hands on my skin, his eager mouth trailing down my chest.
“Going to make you come so hard,” he mused.
“It doesn’t matter,” I gasped. His mouth on my groin. Deep, heady kisses making my cock jolt.
“It fucking does,” he groaned. “The whole point of this is making you see stars. All of them with my name on them.”
“You…” I was laughing so hard it was actually uncomfortable.
“You won’t laugh in a minute, when I lick you open.”
“Oh.”
Crap. He was serious as well.
Yes. Of course. Because this was him and I was me, and now my legs were in the air as he clumsily knelt in front of my arse. Moving around like he was trying to find the ultimate angle.
My very exposed arse.
“This is me kneeling at my favourite place on earth.” He winked.
Fucking hell. Dude. Babe. I couldn’t stop laughing. And I felt so…ridiculously free.
“Ed!” flew out of my mouth as his hot breath hit…right there. That spot. Where my muscles clenched. He was blowing air…on my arse. The…audacity. The…OMG.
“Say it again,” he whispered.
“Baby,” I groaned. His nose against my taint. Oh God. Please.
“No. My name. You never say it. I want to hear it.”
“Edward.”
“No!”
“Eddie?”
“Fuck off.”
“Ed?” I whispered.
“Yes?”
“Please fuck me.”
“Of course.” He smiled. Then he stuck his tongue out at me. Let that wet muscle of his wriggle around in his mouth, his smile never leaving his face. He was such a goofball when he could be. When he let go of the walls. When he was…alone with me.
Why I hadn’t even thought of it like that now seemed crazy. We were both the same. Reserved and walled up in public. And then when we were just us?
He grabbed my hand. Held it tight, and then he leant forward. Got himself wriggled into place before that hot, wet tongue suddenly hit my skin. Right there. A few tentative little licks before he went all in. Full-on mouth.
“Oh God. Jesus,” flew out of my mouth as my arm flailed. He held on to the other one with vice-like strength.
Not letting you go.
Not going anywhere. Ever.
“Please,” I begged. “Please don’t stop.”
I never wanted him to halt the movements down below as I spread my legs as far as I could. Held my knees up to my head as his hands gripped my hips and shoved me further down the bed. Off the pillows. My arse full up in the air.
And then he added…a prodding finger.
Maybe I died in that moment. Every single little file memorised in my personal spank bank flew out the window. Everything I thought I knew about myself. Gone.
Because it was him. And it was his finger and his mouth and his wetness that made me shiver. It was him causing my dick to dribble a tiny slick of wet onto my chest. Because my dick was right in front of me, and I was still wearing my glasses. I could see it. I could see…everything.
“You good?” he questioned, his flushed face popping up. Wetness…everywhere. Like he was just covered in me.
“More,” I slurred.
“So greedy.” He smiled.
“Fuck.”
“Yes, sir!” He grinned.
His finger…sank all the way in. Moving. Twisting. Finding…
“Let me know if I find a good spot,” he asked, then let his tongue trace around his digit.
The stretched skin lapping him up, every touch seemingly too much as my breath kept going all funny.
Like I couldn’t breathe…and then had too much air in my lungs.
My skin too hot. Yet my skin was prickled with chills.
And then?
“Fuck!” I roared.
It was just a small touch, but his head popped up and he smiled like he’d suddenly won at…everything.
“Yes!” He gasped. Then he did it again as my body squirmed and rolled to the side. I lost the grip on one leg, and he caught it mid-air. Gave it back to me, and then…
Then he really went to work. His mouth and his fingers and that tongue on him, and my dick was right in my face and…
Fuck.
“Can you lick it?” he asked. I hadn’t even noticed him there. Too close. His tongue reaching out and giving my dick a little…lick.
I was too shell-shocked to know what to do. But he just smiled. Lapped another line along the shaft.
“If you reach out, really reach. Can you lick yourself?”
“Fuck you,” I panted out.
“You’re really flexible. Curled into a fucking pretzel.”
“Babe,” I panted.
“Do it. I want to see it.”
“I’ll come,” I warned. “This is not funny.”
“Oh yes, it is.”
He pushed my back further up, and then he reached in.
That wet, filthy mouth on him right in my face.
He kissed me. The smell of…me. And him. And everything this was filling me up with everything I failed to find words for.
Our tongues tangled and our mouths fused.
My hand now around my cock as I jerked erratically somewhere under my chin.
“Lick your dick. And then I’ll fuck you.”
“Fuck you.” I had no idea what I was doing. What was coming out of my mouth. No control over anything.
I was free. I felt so fucking free.
“There,” he said, his hand gently behind my neck. Pulling. His mouth on mine. And then my dick was against my chin.
Weird. But also…
Fuck. He turned me on. Turned me on so much. The things he made me do. The bravery he gifted me.
“There,” he whispered, as I let my lips open.
Just enough. The tip of my dick right there.
A lick of my tongue against my own skin.
The stretch in my back at breaking point as he joined me.
Both of us, our mouths on me. Him taking in the tip as I licked at his lips.
Then I took myself…just the head against my tongue as he spurred me on. His mouth. His lips.
I wanted to warn him that I was close. I wanted to come. I needed everything that this was.
Sex. The ridiculous… Oh God.
He sucked me fully into his mouth, then let me go with the slowest, most drawn-out movement. Ever.
Torture. Pure torture.
“Please,” I begged.
“You’re so good. So cute. So… Fuck, Georgie.”
I only mouthed it because I didn’t have the strength, trying to hold myself up and breathe and speak at the same time. Please.
“Going to fuck you now,” he panted out, readjusting himself. On his knees. Bent over me, all that hair in his face. “Not going to last long.”
“Go,” came out. Please. Please, please, please…
I couldn’t even watch, even though I wanted to. The click of a lid of something. Rips of condom packets. I knew…somewhere I just knew exactly what he was doing. My neck stretched so far back as the pressure on my opening finally built.
It wasn’t anything bad. Just anticipation and want and need… I wanted it all. To be filled by him. To have him inside of me. To have my insides stretched and pulled and…
Perhaps I roared. Perhaps it was him. Maybe the way my body moulded itself around him was just my imagination playing tricks on me, but I felt no pain. Nothing to cause any concern. Not a trace of fear.
“Brave,” he panted. “You’re so fucking brave.”
I wanted to respond and say I wasn’t brave. I was just his.
Like this.
Like how we fit. Where his groin was pressed against my buttocks and where he was so fully inside me that I could feel him in my throat.
Ridiculous, but yeah.
He was everywhere. Hands on me, around my face as we became one giant curled-up… What was it he had said?
A fucking human double pretzel.
I was laughing into his mouth, into his kisses, my hips moving on their own to meet his violent thrusts.
It was probably mere seconds. Perhaps infinite time.
But when my orgasm hit? That’s where the pain hit.
It was excruciating, the overwhelming sensation shooting through me.
I didn’t want it. I wanted this to last forever.
Yet it was there and my mouth made sounds and I was clinging to him, gripping at his skin.
My nails clawing into his back as I tried to hold on to him.
Make him stay. I wanted to be here. Forever.
He stilled in that moment, his sweat glueing him in place against my skin. I held him. Rocked him. Wept into his shoulder as my teeth bit into him.
I felt out of control. Like I couldn’t get close enough when there was nothing between us.
“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck… There aren’t words good enough for what I want to say.”
“I know,” I whispered. My mouth pressing against his cheek. His face. His eyelids.
Lashes. He had such beautiful lashes.
I held his fringe out of the way.
His arm rose up, adjusting until he was holding himself up on his elbow next to my head. His fingers fixing my glasses. Making sure I could see him.
“You’re…the best.”
“Of course I am.” I smiled.
“You and me. Forever.”
“Wanna tattoo that on your skin?” I was laughing. I had no idea why. I was just here. And he was still inside of me.
“Fuck, Georgie.”
“I know,” I said. “I know. And yes. To everything.”