Chapter 29
LUKE
Neil grabs a quick shower whilst I try to adopt a casual pose on the bed.
I know what he’s doing in there—I’m not totally na?ve.
Perhaps I should have offered to help, given he’s working one-handed.
Imagining that, I fondle myself, unnecessarily.
One thing I don’t need to fret about is being hard; seems like I have an erection ninety-nine percent of the time in Neil’s company.
Naked, he saunters back into the bedroom. I drink him in. Lean. Confident. Sexy. Under the sheets, my hand remains on my dick.
“Don’t stop on my account.”
Neil climbs in next to me, pulling a bottle of lube from his bedside drawer. He flicks open the lid and, given his other hand is useless, squeezes until a generous amount puddles on his chest.
“In fact,” he carries on, “you do that, and I’ll do this.”
Neil’s brain doesn’t work like mine. As if there’s no one else in the room, he gets comfy on the pillows, draws his legs up, dips his finger into the well of lube on his chest, and presses it against his entrance.
I swallow, giving my dick a hard squeeze.
At this rate, it will all be over very quickly.
“You never do this to yourself?” With one fingertip, he pushes in and out of his hole, not very deep, just enough for his nail to disappear and reappear. “Not even a little?”
“I…I have in the shower sometimes. Since we talked about it.”
“And?” Neil’s skin is shaved smooth around his balls and his hole. “What have you been using? Shower gel?”
“Yeah.” I squeeze my dick even harder.
“Have you been doing it like this?” Neil puts another finger next to the first.
“No, just one finger.”
“I bet it’s really tight down there.” Neil’s face is flushed. Both fingers are up to the second knuckle. He moistens his lips. “Do you like doing it?”
On my belly, I’ve got a little pool all of my own forming. Neil’s barbell glints up at me. “Yeah. I think so.”
“Maybe you’d like it more if I was doing it to you.” His fingers slide deeper. With a low, throaty sound, his eyes flutter closed. “Yeah, rash whisperer. I think you’d like me doing this to you.”
I’m entranced. If I touch myself anymore, I’ll come. Neil helps himself to more lube, then offers it to me. With an amused smile, he puts a pillow underneath himself and beckons me over.
“Get between my legs, Luke. I want you inside.”
He’s there, glistening, all open for me.
Hovering above, I don’t know where to feast my eyes: on his gorgeous face?
His hole? The fabulous barbell lying above the entrance to his hole?
The flex of his abs or the taut skin covering them, wrinkling as he contorts for me?
How unbelievable my own dick looks poised at his softened, red rim?
Or at Neil’s, swollen veiny one, stretching up and kissing his navel? How…how—
“Don’t forget to breathe, babe,” Neil whispers. “It’s kind of crucial.”
“Hah!” I suck down a few gulps, trying to ground myself. Air. Cool. Fresh. “If I whisper fuuuck as soon as I put it in,” I suck down a few more, “then all I’m saying is you’d better enjoy the next seventeen seconds.”
Unfazed, Neil chuckles. I can’t imagine a single other person I could have shared my first time with and been so honest. “No you won’t. We took the edge off earlier. You’re going to be awesome, I know it.”
I don’t think I’m anywhere approaching awesome, but I inch my way in without embarrassing myself or hurting Neil. When I’m seated impossibly deep, he traces his thumb over my lip. “You good?”
I nod. I can’t speak. All I can manage are breathless, pained gasps. I dare a peek down at where we’re joined. Snug. Taut. Stretched.
“This is crazy.” I pull out a fraction, then sink back down. He’s so hot and tight. “Like, whoa, I’m really inside of you.”
Neil lets out a shaky laugh. His nails bite into my skin, more affected than he’s letting on. “You really are. You’re a good fit.”
“I am?”
I withdraw almost entirely, then thrust into him, back down to the hilt. The feeling is indescribable. Out of this world.
“Yeah. I’m…put it right there, rash whisperer. Right there.” Neil adjusts, flexing something inside him. If he does that manoeuvre again, I’m going to combust. His eyelids drift closed. “Keep going like that. So fucking good.”
With Neil’s leg on my shoulder, I develop a rhythm.
Glitchy and syncopated at first, until Neil stops me and adjusts again so he’s higher in the bed; he only has one arm for leverage.
It’s not slick. I’m way too eager and jerky, but we find the groove and then, suddenly, the groove finds us.
Neil’s pushing back, the rhythm is solid, and I’m flying, as if this union with this man was born in my bones.
Don’t get me wrong—there’s no finesse, no velvet touch. But yeah, flying.
Neil’s fingers grip my shoulders. Instead of polish I give him raw need and clumsy human honesty.
I urge him higher still, until he’s up on his good elbow.
I try to multitask and kiss him, but the closest we get is panting into each other’s mouths.
The bed rattles, and the covers fall to the floor, but each of my coarse thrusts Neil matches with a grunt.
Heat grabs my spine, building to a fire in my groin.
There’s a rushing in my chest, everything inside me dialled up to a million degrees: the colour, the warmth, Neil, everything.
“I’m there,” I pant, lurching for his dick.
I should be working him, but I need more hands, maybe a separate brain, another head with another mouth.
Neil bats my hand away with his cast at the same moment as my world turns white.
I hose into him. Warmth floods between our bodies when Neil hoses against me a second later, so I guess I’m doing something right.
I flop on top of him, gasping, until blood reluctantly returns to my brain. Inside him, I soften, but as soon as I pull out, he grabs my hand and shoves it between his legs.
“Put your fingers in,” he pants. “Keep filling me, Luke.”
Oh, fuck. I nearly come again.