7. Elio #3
He throbbed fast and grabbed my busy arm, pulling my hand out of his pants before releasing a long exhale. “Fuck, El,” he whispered, turning around. “Is this real?” His long eyelashes batted, his hazelnut eyes focusing on me, and he waited.
My mouth was dry, and my tongue twisted and tied, so I didn’t bother speaking.
Instead, I leaned in and pressed my mouth against his, kissing him like I had kissed a dozen girls—with conviction and confidence.
That was how I had always done it, sure that I couldn’t be wanting anything other than what I had reached for.
It was just that now, after all that time, I let myself understand how misguided I had been.
What tricks would my mind play tomorrow when the daylight sobered me up? I didn’t want to imagine it. Instead, I wanted to lose myself in him, and kissing him seemed like the only way to do that.
As we kissed, the gentleness slowly faded away. All the times before this, all the close encounters had been so full of burning animosity, weighed down by guilt and amplified by our shared violence, and I let it all out again.
I grabbed Jaxon’s T-shirt and yanked it up, making him edge away from me just enough to take a good view of my determined face.
His eyes widened at whatever he saw there, and his pupils dilated.
The T-shirt went over his head as he lifted his arms, and I stepped back, holding the twisted fabric in my hand as I dropped my gaze shamelessly and freely to his torso.
He was really something. Like Michelangelo’s David, he was chiseled and defined.
I didn’t know much about the golden ratio and the right proportions, but I knew that looking at him did something to my heartbeat.
I tossed the T-shirt on the floor and stepped toward him, putting my right hand on the outer side of his chest, following the curve of his pec all the way to his ribs, then dragging my hand down.
Jaxon was timid now, his breaths quiet and shallow, his moves contained. He looked at me with expectation and something bordering too close to adoration. He reached over, taking the edge of my hoodie and tugging it as if to ask me why it was still on.
I took it off and heard a distinct sound of Jaxon choking.
When I looked at him again, his lower lip was between his teeth, hesitation painted all over his face and body.
I took his hand when I couldn’t find the words to assure him that this was no trick. He observed it, his hand rising under my guidance. I placed his palm against my chest, then wrapped my other arm around his waist and brought him closer, pressing his abs against mine.
To my surprise, Jaxon’s face was pink with heat as he looked up, his lips full and juicy and ready for kisses.
I obliged, holding us together, and pressed my mouth against his, letting the kiss ravage us both.
It was unlike the earlier kisses. It was raw and hungry, uncaring of the old embarrassments, guilts, and shame.
It was wet and loud, our lips moving quicker and my tongue exploring his mouth deeper.
His moans and my sighs weren’t something either of us was ashamed of, but music to set the mood.
It turned me on far more than I would have imagined.
There was no gentleness I had reserved for girls, only now thinking that maybe none of them cared for gentleness in the first place but pure passion. Pure sex. Pure lust.
Jaxon tore back from me, blinking as if in disbelief and dragging his hand between us until he felt every inch of the way between my chest and my crotch.
When he reached it, part of me wanted to leap back.
No. You can’t. You shouldn’t. But I could.
And I should. So I let him do whatever he wanted to do.
Jaxon’s hand found my hard cock and wrapped around it, holding it together with my pants and my boxer briefs.
He was far less gentle and, I suspected, more practiced at what he could and couldn’t do to a guy.
He’d said as much, and the words bothered me somewhere deep in a way I hadn’t realized right away.
I fucked dozens of you, El, he had said.
But you should be mine, I thought. You shouldn’t have anyone else.
My hand reached up while Jaxon stroked me over my pants, and I held him by the throat, tipping his head up so I could plan another sinful kiss on his sexy lips.
Jaxon undid the top button on my pants and pulled the zipper down, making my pants slide down with a few little tugs. His hands didn’t go to my dick now but back to cup my ass and hold it in a firm grip. Fear fueled my heartbeat. I hadn’t thought of this. I hadn’t thought so far ahead. What if he…?
But Jaxon dragged himself down against my body, descending to his knees until he was so low I could no longer hold his throat. I let go, and he dropped before me, pulling my pants to my ankles and looking up into my eyes.
I knew what this was. It didn’t matter if he was a girl or a guy; I knew what he was doing.
His hands rested on my big thighs, rising along the bare flesh until his fingers were near the edges of my underwear.
Then, he leaned in, never taking his gaze off my face.
He came deeper and closer until his face was pressed against my crotch, my balls touching his mouth, the rising bulge of my cock pressing against his nose.
He lifted his head and lowered it again, his movements minimal, and I held a breath when a shudder passed through my chest.
The sensation was ravaging, devastating. It rocked me completely, and only the surprise that triggered my fight-or-flight instinct kept me standing still. I let myself be at his mercy.
My hair fell over the sides of my face and brow as I looked down, so I ran a hand through it, pulling the wild curls back.
Jaxon gazed up, his mouth opening and closing, lips dragging over the curve that my balls formed in the confines of my cotton boxer briefs.
He lifted his chin higher, putting his lips on the base of my cock, and kissed his way to the tip, where he bared his teeth threateningly and extended his tongue, pressing it hard against the spot where my cock stretched the underwear the thinnest. A small, wet spot remained when he pulled his head back and reached up with his fingers.
Jaxon pulled the waistband of my underwear over my cock, his face turning a darker shade of pink, and his chest moved up and down faster with deepening breaths.
My dick sprang freely as Jaxon dragged my boxers all the way to my ankles. When he looked up, the stiffness returned to me. I watched as my cock steadied, standing at full mast a mere inch above Jaxon’s face.
His eyelashes batted once before he rose higher and opened his mouth.
Without a word or any sound, he wrapped his lips around the tip of my nine inches, wrapping it in his warmth and wetness, and impaled his head down my length.
He took me in half the way before the tightness in my chest warned me I would implode unless I breathed.
I inhaled deeply, watching as if this was happening to someone else. It was happening to my body, yes, but I couldn’t tell you where my body and my soul met and parted. I couldn’t tell you where my body ended and I began.
The next moment showed me just how much the two were intertwined. Jaxon bobbed his head back and forth, taking me deeper into his mouth, and his eyes focused on mine. There was no longer any difference between me and my flesh. It was all one. And I was really doing this.
Shoving the fear down, I put my hands on the back of Jaxon’s head, fingers threaded, and pulled my hips back before swinging them forward and shoving myself deeper into his body.
Jaxon’s eyes widened, and his throat relaxed, lips sealed around my cock, and air sucked right out of his mouth. All that was left to us was pleasure. Pure, damning pleasure. But I couldn’t find it in me to regret this.
The small sounds that came from Jaxon were a mixture of moans escaping through his nose between the thrusts and little slurps whenever his lips parted slightly to let the air into his mouth. He was good. He was incredible.
And I envied it.
That I had allowed him to go away and do this to other guys just because I didn’t know what I was missing out on filled me with rage at my stupid self. How could I be so clueless?
I rammed myself harder into his mouth, lodging my cock in his throat until the tension around it told me he couldn’t keep it in any longer.
I eased myself back and let him suck me however he liked, his head moving back and forth and his fist closing around the base of my dick.
He did this for an endless while, yet I didn’t want him to stop.
I didn’t want either of us to let this end.
And when he pulled his head back and opened his mouth, saliva dragging from the tip of my slick cock and his exhausted mouth, I didn’t want him to continue. I wanted to look at him instead.
I wanted to remember how red his cheeks were afterward. I wanted to memorize the depth of his breaths as he finally filled his lungs with fresh air. I wanted the scent of my cock on his lips to linger there forever and remind him that he was mine.
This urge was stronger than anything I had ever felt before. In all the dates and hookups of my youth, I hadn’t wanted to own someone quite like this. I didn’t want to keep them.
But Jaxon was never like all the other people. Jaxon was special.
I leaned down and took him by the sides of his torso, nudging him to stand up. And when he did, he winced, his cock bulging in his sweatpants so much that it must have hurt. Even so, I put my hand on it just as I pressed my lips against his.
That was my scent he wore now.
After kissing him slowly, almost like it was a reward, I looked into his eyes. “Take off your clothes, Jax.”