Chapter 3 #3
A shiver tingles up my spine, a deep ache of pleasure settling in the pit of my stomach and tightening my balls as he takes his time playing with my piercing, testing my reactions with every caress of his finger and tease of his grip.
I thrust into his hand, palming his bare cock at the same time, his shorts hastily shoved down just enough to give me access. He’s hot and hard and thick in my hand, leaving my palm sticky with a few streaks of precum. We bump our mouths together clumsily, gasping and moaning.
“We don’t have nearly enough lube for this,” he mutters, dragging his finger through the damp pool of precum on the head of my cock and spreading it around.
Yeah, like I said, so not an honor student. If I were, I wouldn’t have left my room without stuffing a few packets of lube into my pockets.
“If that Harry Telephone guy was such a hopeless romantic, you’d think he’d help a couple of guys out,” I complain, and Real laughs, his cock flexing in my grip as the sound turns from amused to a broken moan.
“Well, if you can’t get ghost lube, store-bought is fine…
” He wiggles around underneath me for a second, slipping one hand into his pocket and shoving his shorts even lower in the process before pulling out a little packet.
He grins and waggles his eyebrows at me, pulling his hand off my cock and tearing open the lube.
He empties it into his hand and then squirms around a bit more before replacing my grip on his cock with his own, taking both of our erections in one hand.
My eyes roll back at the incredibly heady feeling of my hard, hot shaft pressed against his. I can feel each throb of his heartbeat in the veins of his cock, our balls bouncing against each other with every slick stroke of his hand.
I brace my hands on either side of his head, pressing imprints onto the wet sand as I kiss him harder and thrust into his grasp, the desperate ache inside me growing. I’ve been with more men than I can count, but this is different…this is Real.
He humps his cock against mine in the tight tunnel of his grasp, kissing me back with a matching need as if he’s been dreaming of this as long as I have. Maybe he has. Maybe I’m just lucky enough that he still feels the way he did the night that I fucked everything up.
I have fifteen years to make up for, and there’s not a damn thing in this world more important to me than making sure Real knows that I’m not going to walk away this time. He’s mine now, and that’s all there is to it.
I tear my mouth off his, gasping and groaning as the pressure grows in my balls and my cock throbs against his.
I kiss my way down his throat, stopping to suck a dark bruise onto his collarbone.
He lets out a broken sob, his body shuddering and his cock jerking against mine as he tilts his head to the side to beg for more.
I want to claim and mark every inch of him.
I want to cover him in bite marks and cum.
I want his lips to be permanently swollen from my kiss.
“Fuck. Flynn. Fuck,” Real gasps, digging his fingers into my bicep and tightening his grip on our cocks. Our precum joins the lube, mixing and making everything stickier and wetter with every thrust. My piercing catches against the head of his cock, sending tendrils of heat through me.
“Fucking come all over me, Real,” I beg in a raspy growl, fucking harder against him, nipping at his lips and licking into his mouth when he parts them on a moan.
He strokes us faster, his eyes fluttering closed and his body arching up toward mine.
I pant and fuck against him, my muscles coiling with tension and my balls constricting as the heat in the pit of my stomach flares more intensely.
And then his cock starts to pulse against mine, hot, wet ropes of his cum paint my cock and squelch in his fast, sloppy strokes.
My orgasm washes over me. I curl my fingers in the rough sand, unintentionally grabbing handfuls as I tremble and moan, my cock meeting his pulses as my thrusts slow and become uncoordinated.
I bury my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent and lazily chasing every last aching wave of pleasure.
“Damn, that was hot,” Real says breathlessly, muffled by the weight of my body.
I chuckle and roll off him, flopping into the sand and feeling it cling to any exposed skin it can find, as well as to my clothes. Guaranteed, I’m going to be brushing sand out of my bed all night.
Totally worth it.
We lie together, catching our breath for a few minutes. He finds my hand with his, and I slot our fingers together, using my free arm to cushion my head.
“Damn, this is beautiful,” he murmurs, looking up at the vast expanse of sky overhead. We’re far enough away from the mainland that the light pollution hasn’t reached us. I’ve never seen so many stars in my life.
“He may not provide ghost lube, but damn did old Harry know how to pick a location.”
“No kidding,” he agrees.
I’m not sure how long we lie there, our breathing and the soft roar of the ocean the only sounds for what seems like miles. I’m not sure if the party died down or if we just can’t hear it from here. Either way, for a little while, it feels like we’re the only two people alive.
Eventually, we get up and do our best to brush the sand off.
Even in the dim light of the moon, the outline we left in the sand is more than obvious, the imprint of Real’s ass and the indents from my knees and hands making it clear what went on here.
He pulls out his phone and snaps a picture with the help of his flash, shooting me a shameless smile.
“Vacation memories,” he explains with a shrug.
We don’t hold hands on our walk back to the hotel, but we walk close enough that our hands and shoulders brush and bump each other.
The cum drying on my skin is itchy and uncomfortable, matting in my public hair and tugging at my skin.
It’s a small price to pay for the easy smile on Real’s face when I stop outside his room to say goodnight.
“This was fun,” he says, leaning against the door and putting a hand on my chest, absently tugging at my shirt.
“It was,” I agree with a grin, bracing my hands against the door and leaning in to press a gentle peck to his lips. “I was thinking about going snorkeling tomorrow. You should come with me.”
He doesn’t even hesitate. “Okay. Want to meet for breakfast first?”
“It’s a date,” I agree.
Real bites back the widening of his smile and gives a quick nod. “Sleep well, Peanut.”
I groan at the use of my childhood nickname.
“You too, Pudding.”
He gasps indignantly, and I chuckle. Two can play at the embarrassing nickname game. I kiss him one more time because I can’t help myself.
Only six more days on the island with Real. There’s no way that will be enough.