Chapter 11 #3
Randall’s eyes only flicked in the general direction of my groin for a second before he turned and knelt by the fire in his shiny, skinny yoga pants.
He tossed a few more logs on, and he used the poker and a few puffs of air to get the blaze going, leaning into the open face of the fireplace and most definitely improving my view.
I curled up into the corner of the couch, the blanket draped over my shoulders, and watched as Randall slowly returned the tool to its stand and stared at the fire for a beat or two.
A patch on the back of his neck turned red, like a little telltale blush despite his back being to me.
I was staring at him unabashedly when he stood and turned. I wondered if the flush of color on his neck was from the fire, from the awkwardness of our situation, or if Randall was as turned on as I was.
“Austin!” He sounded exasperated. We locked eyes momentarily, but something caught his attention, and he looked away. “Snowing again,” he muttered as he came and sat next to me on the couch. Like, right next to me.
“Let me see your feet.”
“My …”
“Come on. Hand ’em over. I want to make sure you're okay.”
“I’m fine, Randall. I’m practically a doctor; you can trust me. And I live in the snow at school and …”
He was up and standing in front of me to lift the blanket from my lap, only he grabbed both the blanket and the towel, which had come loose but was still basically covering me; or at least it had been until my grabby roommate yanked at it.
He froze, leaning over me, staring at my semi-hard dick and not at the still-red and cold feet tucked under me. And he kept staring. He had to sense me watching him. He had to know I knew exactly what he was and wasn’t looking at.
I reached my hand to where his were suspended, holding a corner of the blanket and the towel.
I removed them from his hands and dropped them down, not caring if they covered me or not.
Slowly, I pulled my feet out from under me and rested them on the coffee table.
Randall stood above me, and our eyes locked.
Before my still slightly visible cock got too much more excited, I began swinging my feet up and down above the coffee table. It worked to break the spell.
“See, just a little red. They’re warming up nicely.” He sat down on the coffee table and wrapped both of his hands around one of my feet.
“Still cold,” he refuted.
I wiggled in his embrace, and Randall massaged my foot gently, keeping a firm grip around first one, then the other. I’d covered myself up with the towel again, but my state was not hidden, and neither was Randall’s in those tight pants.
His hands began to wander up my ankle, and he placed my foot in his lap.
I leaned back with my eyes closed as he dug into my calf with his fingertips.
My foot brushed his hardness, causing my cock to twitch again.
That time it caught his attention, and he stopped his work, his hands still warming my leg.
Gently, I pulled myself from his embrace and stood, letting the blanket fall off my shoulders and the towel from my lap. If there was a chill to the room, I didn’t feel it.
We were face-to-face, mere inches apart. I wasn’t so brazen as to place myself in his personal space, but one half step or one meaningful lean, and I’d be right there. Right where I wanted to be.
“Austin,” he chastised me, but I heard the frustration in it. The conflict. The want. We can have this, I thought. I was sure we could. We were two men stuck together in a secluded, ridiculously romantic cabin. It was the only logical conclusion.
I wrapped my arms around him, grabbed his ass, and watched as his eyes went wide. “Yeah?” I asked as if he’d said my name for any other reason than out of frustration.
“You must be freezing.”
“You gonna warm me up?”
He inched closer to me as he said, “You know we can’t do this.” Talk about mixed signals.
“Oh, I think we absolutely can,” I countered.
“Austin, you’re my …”
I really wished he’d stop saying my name, because every time he did, it sounded sexier than the time before. I shook my head as I interrupted him.
“I’m a gay man, trapped in a cabin with another gay man. We’re obviously attracted to each other.” I gave the gentlest of squeezes to the spot he hadn’t once asked me to remove my hand from, and damned if he didn’t inch closer yet.
“Austin.”
“Hear me out. What else are we going to do, Randall? Snowed in, in this cabin. We can kill time, have fun, keep each other warm.“ I raised my eyebrows and smiled at him. “It’s called hooking up. Guys do it all the time, in bars, on apps, in dorm rooms. No one need ever know.” I liked the guy, so it was difficult to say the next part, but my dick was basically doing all the talking by that point, and it would have said just about anything to convince him. “It doesn’t need to mean anything. Just a little fun.”
I pulled him flush to me and waited. I know it was mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity, my entire body pulsing, our gazes locked. Then without warning, his hands were on me, grabbing my ass as I had his.
He kissed me again, urgently, recklessly as if convincing us both that the spark between us was nothing more than physical contact, that it didn’t mean anything beyond a tangible fire. I pushed my hands up under his shirt, savoring the reality of finally having his warm skin on my palms.
He pulled away. Fuck. But then he squeezed my ass. Nice. “You're freezing, Austin.”
“Then warm me the fuck up, Randall.” I turned us and shoved him to the couch, intent on climbing on top of him, but he grabbed my arm instead and pulled me to the couch to sit next to him.
He leaned in to kiss me, which we did for long minutes, his hands roaming my back and chest, mine tucked back under his shirt.
His kisses became more insistent as he worked his way into my mouth, pushing forward with his tongue and his chest until I began to sag sideways into the couch.
I savored the feel of him over me, his hands exploring chastely from the waist up, finding their way to my hair.
I kept my hands to his torso as well, fighting his tight-knit shirt.
I pulled back but didn’t right myself, tugging on his shirt as I insisted, “Off.”
My heart skipped a beat, and my dick took notice as he echoed my response from before. “Yes, sir.”
I don’t really know how to describe my reaction. Is “ungh” a word?
He stood then. Sitting back up felt like starting over and lying down felt presumptuous, so I stayed put, in my half-splayed, slightly uncomfortable position.
Randall, it seemed, was ready to presume. He pulled his shirt off and placed it carefully on the coffee table, pulling his sexy-ass pants and underwear off in one go and adding them to the pile.
He turned back to find me smiling up at him from my awkward angle. I hadn’t moved, afraid I would break whatever spell we were under.
His dick was perfect: long and thin and red, with one vein I could see pulsing through it, like it was speaking to me. There was a bead of pre-cum already forming, and I couldn’t help but grab myself and stroke slowly as I took him in.
I did lie myself down on the couch then, casually, with one hand crooked behind my head, the other still occupied much lower on my body, one leg outstretched, the other on the floor.
Goose bumps tickled the back of my neck as I followed his hungry eyes.
They landed on my face, but then he noticed the towel hanging off the couch, tucked under me and dragging on the floor.
“If the laundry is gonna drive you crazy, I can wait while you …”
“There is only one thing that’s driving me crazy right now,” he growled.
Growled! He tugged at the towel and tossed it above me, over the couch.
Slowly, he took his glasses off and placed them on the coffee table.
I swear I could hear swelling movie music building up in the room.
I should have been freezing, splayed out on the couch in that big open room.
Instead, my every cell was on fire, flames chasing each other from my forehead to my toes.
My dick twitched again in my hand as he grabbed his and began stroking. We watched each other and kept time.
Another “ungh” came out of me. It was a sound I had never heard myself make before, and just like that, I thought of it as his.
I spread my legs a little wider in welcome. He stopped stroking. I gave a slight nod, and I could see the moment his decision was made. He nodded too, only his was determined and strong.
He landed above me, one arm braced on the top of the couch, supporting his weight, our dicks brushing.
It was the sexiest, most possessive move I’d ever felt as he plucked my hand away, replacing it with his own and lining our cocks up.
I pulled my other hand from behind my head to hold him close, wrapping it around his back and freeing his arm to find my hair. A third “ungh” escaped me.
“I love that sound,” he spoke into my lips.
“Yeah, I do too.”
I caressed his back. He was holding us tight, kissing me and undulating but not yet stroking us.
My body met his motions, and we danced together on that couch, touching everywhere we could.
I brought my other leg up to wrap it around him, drawing him closer, drawing myself up to him.
He hissed and pulled up, keeping his face close.
“Your feet are still freezing.”
I chuckled and thrust up into him. “Fine! I’ll wear the fucking boots next time.”
He laughed in return and kissed me some more. Finally, he began to stroke us together, collecting pre-cum to ease the way.