Chapter Twenty-Five #3
Speaking of Gannett, however, I haven’t seen him since we left separately to get here, since he had to go get the girls from Sarah, and I had to be here to sign papers.
I know he’s been nervous about how to approach his brother about us, because I’ve been feeling the same anxiety over it.
But, I get it. Lord, don’t I fuckin’ get it, and Evan’s not even my brother.
After all, what’s a good way to break it to him that, "Hey, I know you don’t think I’m into dudes and all, but I’ve been getting all my orifices stuffed full of your nemesis’ cock, and loving it, for the past couple months or so? "
Those were Gannett’s exact words, not mine, by the way.
Nerves may have had a lot to do with our recent uptick in sparring sessions that eventually lead to me fucking him on every previously un-christened surface of his—soon to be our—remodeled apartment.
I’m honestly shocked the choker hasn’t left any visible bruises around his neck.
There are bruises elsewhere, but those places are strictly for my fuckin’ eyes only.
When I find Gannett, he’s in the men’s restroom, splashing his face with water. Coming up behind him, I rest my chin on his shoulder, and sigh. He admires our reflections, leaning back into me.
“Doomsday approaches,” he muses, interlacing his fingers with mine, tugging my knuckles to his lips and kissing them. “If I, uh, vomit in the dining room, do you think that’ll put a damper on T-dawg’s big day?”
I shrug. “Probably a little, yeah.”
He spins, resting his palms on my chest, peering up at me. “Back when I was younger and snarkier,” he hums, like he isn’t still fuckin’ snarky, “Evan used to threaten to drown me in toilet water. I was never terrified of him then, so why am I now?”
“Because he matters to you, thus the opinion he has of you holds significance. And what I did to him was completely abhorrent, so it’s possible that he says he’s over it, but he really isn’t…”
Gannett nods, gnawing on his lower lip. “I love my brother, and I love you too. A part of me worries that he won’t fuckin’ get it, you know? His temper is—well, it’s fickle.”
I snort. “I know about the temper.” I wrap my arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his temple.
“How are you so calm about this?” Gannett whines, his face pressed into my t-shirt.
I chuckle. “Calm? Christ, Wee-Waters, there’s nothing calm about me. I’m just better at masking my emotions. It’s—it was a coping mechanism.”
“Well, I could use a fuckin’ coping mechanism right about now,” he huffs. I shift us over, reaching out so I can slide the bolt lock into place. “What are you doing?” he rears back, arching an eyebrow up at me.
“Sit up there.” I nod at the counter next to the sink. “Pull your pants down. I’m about to show you a coping mechanism.”
His eyes widen and he unbuttons his jeans, pushing those and his underwear down to his knees, and then sits on the countertop. Obedient fuckin’ thing. He’s not hard yet, but that just means I’ll feel him as he fills up my mouth. It waters just at the thought of it.
“Gordy!” he gasps, when my hand curls around his semi-flaccid shaft. “Everyone is right out there!” He gestures towards the door.
I snicker. “Well, aren’t you super observant?
I guess I don’t have to point out that I also locked the fuckin’ thing.
You know, up until now, I was starting to think you actually liked the thrill of potentially getting caught.
The road head, the getting fucked behind the bleachers, the face-fucking in the gym… you just loved it then.”
He puffs out a breath, loosening up a little as I stroke him dry—rough, the way he likes it. “Fair point. I do indeed enjoy that little kink.”
“You also like being called a filthy little cumslut,” I add, a smirk spreading on my lips.
He nods. “Correct. Love it, actually.”
“You enjoy being fed your own cum,” I continue, feeling him grow harder in my palm.
He pops a shoulder. “Eh, mine or yours. Doesn’t matter. I don’t discriminate.”
“Well, right now I intend to treat you to yours. So, how about you sit back and let me suck you off, Gannett. Hmm?” His dick twitches with need on the heels of my proposition.
“Oh, uhm, okay, but—” Whatever words of protest he has die on his lips when I sink my fingers in his mouth, shutting him up.
He groans, his tongue lashing against the forceful entry.
He squirms as I smear his pre-cum soaked tip over my lips, and he whines when he watches my tongue dart out to lick it off.
My eyes roll back when I realize… I can taste the fuckin’ pineapple.
In a swift motion, I bend again, tilting my head so I can lick up his entire length, base-to-tip, before sucking his shiny, swollen head in my mouth, teasing him with my tongue. He whimpers against my fingers, his jaw fluttering as he fights the urge to clamp down with his teeth.
I purse my lips around his shaft, suctioning as my head bobs up and down his length.
With my free hand, I reach between his thighs, lightly tugging on his balls.
His hands fall to my head, his fingers tangling in my hair, digging for purchase.
The pain from him fisting my hair sends jolts of pleasure skittering down my spine—reminding me that not every touch equals the bad kind of pain.
Gannett would never intentionally bring me the bad pain. I love him, and he loves me. He chooses me. I swallow down the rush of gnawing guilt that he is faced with standing up to Evan today for choosing me.
With growing need to remind him that I’m worthy, I increase my pace. He lets his jaw fall. “Unngh! Oh my gaw,” he mouths around my fingers.
I pop off his dick, a trail of spit dangling between us. “You okay?” I check in with him.
I feel him nod vigorously. “Yesh, oh my gaw, sho goo,” he tries to speak, but the panted words come out only half-intelligible with my improvised gag in the way. He nudges his hips up for encouragement.
“Christ, I wanna fuck you so goddamn bad right now,” I murmur.
“Mmph!” he whines, sucking on my fingers. My own dick strains hard against my jeans. So much so, that I begin to worry that the fabric of my boxer-briefs won’t be able to prevent the inevitable bite marks sure to be imprinted from the zipper.
He continues sucking and licking, so I yank my fingers from his mouth.
Between that and blowing him like my life hangs in the balance, I’m about to shoot off in my pants like a hormone-crazed teenager.
The last thing I need today is to try to explain away a wet spot in my jeans, especially when I griped about Trista doing the exact same thing—getting freaky in the bathrooms in the same establishment where our son is working.
“Oh god, Gordy,” Gannett pants. “So good. So fuckin’ good. I’m close.”
I roll his balls on my palm, giving them another gentle tug.
“Mmmph, oh! Yes! Fuck!” Gannett whimpers between choppy breaths. “I’m—oh, fuuuuuuck, yessss…”
His whole body shudders as he fires off into my mouth.
Surge after surge of his sweetened cum, flooding me until I can’t hold anymore, forcing me to swallow a little.
When he’s completely spent, he tugs at my beard, coaxing me to feed what’s left to him.
My lips pressed to his, I slide my tongue inside his mouth, and he eagerly accepts his release—not wasting a single drop.
“Fuuuck,” he groans, his head tilting back until it thumps against the mirror. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows more. “Why am I addicted to cum guzzling of all things?”
He leans on me, boneless and sated, as I ease him off the counter.
I bend and pull up his pants and underwear for him, fixing him up so he doesn’t look freshly fucked when he walks out of here.
Carding my fingers through his ebony hair, I attempt to give it that purposefully mussed up look, rather than the one he’d created at some point during this little suck-off session by tugging at his roots.
I don’t think I fixed it quite right, though.
It doesn’t look as effortless as the way he does it.
His phone buzzes in his pocket, but he ignores it. “Look at you, taking care of me afterwards,” he muses, a devilish lilt in his voice. “You want me to take care of that?” he asks, nodding down at my crotch.
“I’m fine,” I murmur. “This was about taking away some of your stress. I deserve all the anxiety I have.”
“You don’t—” he starts to protest, but I cut him off.
“I do, Gannett. It’s part of the process. I need to feel like somehow I’m earning my penance for what I did.”
His brows furrow. “Dr. Goucher told you to withhold orgasms as some sort of cosmic retribution? Jeesh, he sounds like a hardass.”
I shake my head. “No. Just—let me have this, okay? It’ll look a little fishy if we both leave at the same time anyway, so just go out there first. I’ll clean the counter up and attempt to get this thing to go away,” I grumble, gesturing down to my erection.
“Let’s eat, give Taryn his moment, and we’ll find some time to pull Evan away afterwards. ”
Gannett nods, biting his cheek. I grasp the nape of his neck, pulling him forward, and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “It’ll be fine. We’ll be fine, right?” he asks, seeking confirmation in my eyes.
“We’ll be fine,” I assure him, because even if Evan doesn’t approve, I’m still committed to making this work with me and Gannett.
I just don’t want to be back on Evan’s shit list. Even if only for a few short weeks, before I ruined everything, his friendship meant the world to me when I had no others in that role.
Between Gannett and myself, and Taryn and Morgan—hell, even me and Brooks—our lives are always going to be intertwined.
The last thing I want is to be reminded of what a shit human I was for the rest of my life.