Chapter 31
Boris
Ira has almost fallen asleep by the time I park the car in my driveway. I glance at Simon. "Quick dinner and then put him to bed?"
He nods. "Are you eating with us?"
Hell yeah! I try to keep my expression in check and nod. We get out, and I grab Ira from the backseat and carry him across the street and up the flagstones to Simon's door.
"How many cookies are there left?" Simon unlocks the door.
"I think four packs. We'll have to check the list. I can always bring them on Saturday. He's handed out the majority, it has to be enough, right?"
"I want to come." Ira pushes his head off my shoulder and looks into my eyes.
"Eh...on Saturday? We go early, early in the morning when everyone else is sleeping.
And it's no fun. A bunch of grown-ups who run in the forest." Then I scrunch my nose because to a boy, it might not sound too terrible.
"You know what, we'll ask your dad, but maybe you can meet us at Beantopia after.
Most people go there to have breakfast." I look at Simon, who pulls a face but nods.
"Great! Then that's our plan."
We get inside, and Simon puts the Dutch oven on the stove while I set the table.
Ira sits on a chair, half asleep. I wince to myself.
Maybe it's been a bit much these last few days.
He's used to it only being him and Simon, and I've dragged him into the pack where everyone has wanted to talk to him.
He enjoyed it, but a minor energy crash might be expected.
I cut up the bread and realize I should've made a salad. I open Simon's refrigerator. It's mostly empty, but I find a cucumber I cut into sticks.
Once everything is done, we eat. The silence is only broken by the occasional comment. I'm glad I didn't make any dessert today. I don't think Ira would've made it through. On the other hand, then Simon and I could've had dessert after he'd fallen asleep.
When everyone is done, I stand. "Put him to bed."
Simon smiles at me. "Thank you."
I only nod and bring the Dutch oven to the stove. There is a good portion of chili left, and I search his cupboards for a freezer container.
I find what I'm looking for and stick a label on the lid where I write chili con carne and the date. Then I put the dishes in the dishwasher and wipe the table.
When Simon walks into the kitchen, I'm by the counter.
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking tired too. "He was out like a light."
I grin and close the distance between us. When he takes a stumbling step away from me, I catch him, spin him around, and press his back against my chest. "Where do you think you're going?" I speak low near his ear, and I can feel him shiver.
"Eh..."
I kiss his neck, hug him closer, and groan. He's perfect. I rub a hand over his chest, down over his stomach, and up again. His heart thuds under my palm and I run my lips over the skin on his throat.
"Simon." I slide one hand over his hip and cup his hardening cock on top of his jeans.
A low moan leaves him, but he's still a little too tense for my liking. I kiss his neck again and run my fingers over his pebbling nipple. He jerks in my hold, and I growl low.
It has him stiffening more--not good. Fuck, no growls. I slide my hand over his chest again, making sure to touch his nipples through the shirt.
When I'm sure he isn't about to break free of my hold, I rub the heel of my hand over his hard-on, and he sucks in a breath. I want to yank his jeans open and free him, but I'm not sure he won't object, so I nibble on his throat, soothe the sting with kisses, and circle a nipple with my forefinger.
He trembles, but he still doesn't touch me back or make it easier for me to touch him. All I want is to please him, to leave him relaxed and sated.
"Simon." This time, I put a little reprimand in his name, and he huffs. When I rub his cock again, he groans and tips his head back on my shoulder.
"There you go." I nip his ear. "Let me make you feel good." I pinch his nipple, gently, and he undulates. I take it as permission and undo the button in his jeans.
He stills but doesn't break away. I make a soft sound near his ear and undo the zipper. "You're so beautiful."
The wrong thing to say because he snorts and tenses a little. I bite his ear, not wanting any stupid thoughts to take form in his head, then I push my hand into his underwear and grab his cock.
The hot, hard length against my palm makes me groan, and I give him a careful stroke. His breath stutters, and I run my lips over the skin on his throat as I move my hand again. I sweep my thumb over the head, gathering some moisture, and inhale the scent of his arousal. Fuck, yeah.
I push down the elastic of his underwear to free him and make my motions easier. Peeking over his shoulder, I take in the flushed head of his cock as it pushes through my fist.
"Fuuuck, Simon. Look at that. So hot."
He grunts but doesn't look. His head is still resting on my shoulder, his eyes closed. It's perfect. He's perfect.
I stroke him more intently, note what makes him shiver, what makes his breath stutter. Before I know what I'm doing, I'm rocking against him, my cock hard as steel, but I do my best to ignore it.
This isn't about me.
Though I'm selfishly enjoying it. I won't deny it.
Simon thrusts into my hold, and when a hand lands on my neck, I almost growl, but I manage to stop myself at the last second. He grips me more tightly, his hips moving in rhythm to my strokes, and while his groans and moans are low, they're coming more regularly.
"So fucking hot, Simon. I love your cock in my hand."
He makes a strangled sound, and I don't know if it's one of appreciation or embarrassment. It makes me grin. "Could do this all day, every day. Feel you hot and hard against me. Smells so fucking good, I want to eat you. Lick you all over, bury my tongue inside you, swallow your pretty cock."
"Boris."
Yup, embarrassment. I chuckle and nip at him again. I can't keep my teeth away from him. I won't bite him, not yet, not today, but fuck I want to.
"Want to taste you, hear you moan as you come down my throat."
He shudders, and his cock swells in my hand. Like that, did he? I pinch his nipple and grind my hard cock against his ass. Standing in the middle of the kitchen doesn't give me the best leverage, but fuck, I think I could come from this.
It isn't about me, though.
I tighten my hold on him, jerking him faster. Precome is trickling down his length, and I salivate as I picture taking him in my mouth.
"Want you to fuck my mouth, want to feel you on my tongue when--" He grips my hair, turns his head, and cuts me off with a kiss. When I plunge my tongue into his mouth, he moans and writhes in my arms.
He digs the fingers of his other hand into my forearm, then his entire being trembles, his cock jerks in my hand, and he's spilling his release over my hand and the kitchen floor.
I stroke him through his climax, then I gentle my hold, and kiss him softly.
When he tries to pull away, I don't let him. I keep kissing him, stroking him to soothe tense muscles.
After a couple of seconds, he groans and melts against me. Yesss! I hold him tight and keep kissing him.
I turn him so we're chest to chest, but I don't stop kissing him. A minute or two later, he comes out of his post-climax haze.
"Fuck." He looks a little unsure when he meets my gaze. "Do you want me to--" He gestures at my aching hard-on.
"Nope." I pull him in for another kiss, but a small frown forms between his brows.
"No?"
I grin and steal another kiss, then I whisper in his ear.
"I'm gonna clean up the mess I made here, then I'm gonna go to my place, and I'm gonna stroke myself to orgasm over and over again while replaying every sound you made while I had you in my arms. Every little jerk and tremble, the way you smell, the way you kiss, the way--"
His lips cover mine. It's only a quick kiss before he breaks away. "You can't say shit like that." A blush is painting his cheeks, and I grin.
"Sure I can."
"Boris." He looks at me, then he glances out the doorway toward Ira's room.
I take his hand and kiss his fingertips. He turns wide eyes at me, so I nip at one of them. "Go to bed, love."
It's still early, but he nods, and I take his mouth one more time before starting operation clean-up.
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