Chapter 11 #4
I was a broken record. “Ungh. Do not stop.” Too quickly, I picked up the pace by bucking up into him.
My erratic moves made kissing a challenge, and Randall arched up, looking in my eyes as he drove me absolutely crazy below him.
I thought for a moment that I should rein myself in, trying to remind myself that hookups were about getting off, not about letting loose or exposing oneself or coming undone.
I was absolutely coming apart below him, and he was watching me do it.
Through my white-hot haze, I could see him, gazing down at me in wonder.
A simple frot on a couch, and I was like a crazy man.
My leg tightened around him as I thrust.
I leaned up and took his earlobe in my mouth, nipping at it, then sucking before insisting, “You too. Come with me. I’m not gonna last much longer …” And for good measure, “Ungh.”
“Oh God. Austin! Austin.”
Fuck! He’d said my name. “Fuck. Fuck. Yes,” I babbled on incoherently as my eyes closed, taken over by the blaze coursing through me, spilling out into his hand.
For his part, Randall, flushed to his clavicles, began to make this grunty, moany sound.
It pulled me out of my haze in the most amazing way, an aftershock firing through me as I watched him push himself toward orgasm.
His eyes were closed, and he was completely focused.
I hoisted up a little, and he shifted, dropping my spent dick to stroke himself in earnest above me.
He was probably following the rules much better than I had, focusing on jacking off and not on connecting with me or letting go of himself. Without any forethought, I messed that up for him.
“Say my name again, you sexy fucker. I want to hear you shout it when you come.”
It was all the permission he needed. His chocolate eyes opened, and he looked at me, sitting up straighter and running his hand at a crazy pace.
“What are you going to do?” I whispered over his grunts.
“I’m going to come all over you.” And then he did, screaming, “Austin,” as an exclamation point to his sentence, aiming his dick first to mine, then to my chest, and when he still wasn’t done, leaning slightly forward until some cum landed on my lower lip.
“Fuck, yeah,” I whispered, not wanting to disturb him as he huffed and grunted and came down from the high. I waited until he opened his eyes before licking my lip to clean off the mess he had left there.
“Ungh,” he responded before flopping down on top of me, spent and sated and sweaty. I wrapped my hands around his back, and one of his hands found my hair as his foot began lazily running up and down my calf.
“You're a sweaty mess,” he observed, giving my hair a playful yank. “And yet your feet are still cold.”
“You're not going to let this go, are you?” I knew my eyes were dancing.
He got up quickly, with an energy that surprised me since I was about ready to doze off. He ran around the back of the couch, scooping up the towel and wiping us off. He then placed it, folded, on his stack of clothes before he threw the blanket over me, lifted my feet, and sat.
“Here, let me warm them.”
And then he started massaging my feet again. He was really good at it too, digging into my arches more firmly this time and rubbing them with his warm hands.
I relaxed into it, tilting my head back but fighting to keep another one of those moans from escaping my lips. It was a challenge, so I opened my eyes, glimpsing a few specks of cum that Randall had missed on his own chest.
“Hey, babe,” I said, eyes closing even as I fought my relaxed state. Apparently, I was so relaxed that I was calling my no-strings-attached casual hookup “babe.”
“Yeah,” he grunted in time with his thumbs stabbing into the bottom of my foot.
“I know a faster way to get warmed up.” He’d been focused on my feet, which was oddly hot, but his eyes snapped up and looked at me, heat flaring in them.
I had really just intended that we shower together for the sake of getting clean, but my totally casual hookup buddy looked like he might be ready for round two.
“We should shower, then make some lunch.”
He sounded a little disappointed, which was the last thing I wanted.
I lifted my legs and hoisted myself off the couch, leaning in to kiss him as a thank you for the massage before placing his glasses on his face.
He couldn’t help but meet my hands as I guided them on, and I couldn’t help but kiss him again when they were in place.
“So fucking sexy, Clark Kent.”
He tilted his head down even though I was crowding him in as he mumbled, “I don’t know about that.”
I gave him one more playful peck, a finger under his chin to guide his face back up to mine. “Yeah, well, I do,” I said. Pink peppered his cheeks as I moved to the coffee table and handed Randall his stack of clothes, keeping the towel for myself.
“These really did stay perfectly dry,” I commented, enjoying the small smile on his face as he took the pile of clothes.
“Come on,” he resolved. “Let’s you and me go get wet.”