Chapter 8 #2
“I’m trying to help you,” I grumble as I hold on.
“For the last time, I don’t need your help!”
He’s angry and worked up. I don’t do anything to contain him, because the movements will help keep him warmer, but having limbs shoved in my face really is an inconvenience. So I hide my head behind his.
My nose grazes his fluffy hair, and I make out the surprisingly sweet scent coming from him. It catches me off guard, because all the guys I know smell like a men’s locker room, not like this. Nice and soft.
My nose brushes the back of his neck, and the sweet scent turns deeper, coming straight from his skin. It tickles my senses in a pleasant way. It’s addicting, and I can’t stop myself from pressing my nose against the skin there.
“Fuck, you really are a perv,” Eli breathes.
He’s not struggling anymore and has resigned himself to lying in my arms. Despite how against this he was at first, he looks pretty cozy snuggled against my chest with his legs out in front of him, pressing against mine.
More importantly, he’s not cold to the touch anymore.
“I told you, I’m helping warm you up, and it’s working,” I reply.
I don’t need to see his face to know his brow is probably furrowed. If he had eyes on the back of his head, they’d be glaring at me.
“Why do you smell so sweet?” I ask. Can over-indulging on candy make someone smell like candy too?
“What? A guy can’t use a shampoo he likes?” he bites back.
“Didn’t say you can’t,” I murmur. Will I ever be able to simply say something without offending him? “It’s nice.”
I rub my nose against the base of his neck again. He shivers.
“Are you cold?” I ask. He trembles again, probably from my breath tickling his skin.
“I-I’m fine,” Eli replies, but I know him well enough to know that getting him to be truthful, especially about needing help, is almost impossible.
I don’t bother trying to contradict him. It’ll only end up with us bickering, and honestly, I’m tired of fighting him. I just pull him closer. I can’t have him getting the chills when it took so much to finally warm him up.
My hand rubs his stomach. He’s once again frozen under my touch, and he isn’t saying anything either. I don’t find anything strange with that. He’s probably pretending I don’t exist, that I’m just an extra-warm blanket. Whatever makes him feel better.
I keep rubbing him with my hand, and I’m pleased heat lingers on his skin. I swipe down his stomach, but I accidentally overextend. My fingers land on coarse hair, then before I can pull back, I come in contact with firm, burning skin.
Eli jolts and tries to pull away from me, but he doesn’t get far since both my arms are still around him. He’s flushed all the way to his neck, and it’s only now that I realize the color might not be from the cold.
Being naked and this close to another man didn’t mean much to me, but that might not be the case for Eli. I was too preoccupied with keeping him alive that his being gay didn’t even cross my mind.
And now he’s what…hard? Because of me?
Why does that idea stir up something instead of me?
“I’m fine now, so you can get off me,” Eli grumbles, but his protest is weak. He isn’t even trying to shove me away like he was earlier.
I lick my lips, which are suddenly feeling dry. I can’t stop thinking about Eli’s erection. He’s so different from me, so what would it look like? Is he veiny like I am? Is his hot rod as velvety as the rest of his skin?
The thoughts consume me, and I blame that for my next actions. My brain is offline, and I’m moving on pure instinct.
“I’ll help you,” I say and press the base of his stomach.
Eli swirls his head around to shoot me wide eyes. “Are you out of your mind?”
I don’t answer that question because I probably am. Why else would I offer something so ridiculous as rubbing a guy—my stepbrother—off? It’s got to be crossing all sorts of lines, but my curiosity outweighs any moral dilemma I’m having.
“It’s just a bro helping a bro out,” I reply with a shrug.
He just turns back around, but not before I catch the red on his cheeks. I try to play nonchalant despite how hard my heart is pounding inside my chest. Or is it his heart I’m feeling? He’s pressed so close against me that I can’t tell whose heartbeat is whose.
Eli sucks in a breath, but he doesn’t say anything. I take his lack of reply as his being stubborn about accepting help again, so I take matters into my own hands.
He’s quiet, still frozen, when I wrap my hand around his length. I might have thought he’d fallen asleep if not for his ragged breathing. The fire crackling in the fireplace and his breathing are the only sounds in the cabin as I stroke his cock.
He’s as soft here as the rest of him, and that’s probably why I’m not disgusted at having another man’s dick in my hand.
I’m shocked when hot liquid falls onto the back of my hand.
It’s not pleasant, and knowing that it’s another man’s precum is enough of a shock to make me question what the fuck I’m doing.
But then Eli’s breath hitches. It’s heavy now, a little needy, and that kicks all doubt out the window. My thumb swipes over the head of his cock, and a stifled moan rumbles out of him.
The sound almost knocks the wind out of me. It sends butterflies into my stomach. I didn’t know Eli could sound so sexy.
“Does that feel good?” I ask and play with his head again. Eli doesn’t answer, but I never expected him to. Instead, another low moan escapes his lips.
“You like that, huh? You like having my hands on you? Are you going to come?”
Eli’s silent, but his hand hold onto my upper thigh. He’s not pushing me away. His fingers are gripping me tight enough to sting, and I don’t know why I find that so hot.
Eli shifts and spreads his legs, which causes the blanket to slip. Suddenly, I’m met with the sight of me stroking him. I’m mesmerized.
That’s my hand on his cock, pleasuring him and causing him to make these needy little sounds. I want to see more, to hear more.
My hand moves faster against his length, and that’s all it takes for Eli to squirt all over me. His cum burns on my hand and knocks clarity back into me.
I just gave Eli a hand job, and instead of being disgusted, my rock-hard cock is poking a hole in his back.