Chapter Twelve #3
The term of endearment is my undoing, when I’ve been hovering so close to the edge of release.
Without warning, my muscles contract, my balls draw up tight, and I explode—my entire body shuddering—as I shoot off into his hand, all over his cock, between our sweat-slickened bodies and sticking to his chest hair.
My mouth is agape, and were it not for my mangled vocal cords, I’m positive that my shouts of pleasure would be bouncing off the walls.
“Fuuuuck, Caleb,” he groans, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Still so perfect when you come.”
I never relent teasing his prostate, letting my fingers dig and twist around inside of his tight ass, until finally I feel him start to clench around my fingers.
“Mmmph!” he whimpers, releasing his grip on us so that he can allow himself to fall on top of me, burying his face in the crook of my neck.
He latches on and sucks hard as he comes.
I know I should stop him because it’s going to be hard to cover up a mark this intense, but I can’t rightfully find it in me to care at the moment.
Not one for being overly vocal during sex—he always left that to me and my dirty mouth—he never could help himself from leaving behind lasting evidence of how he’d taken his pleasure.
It’s like it was his own secretive way of coming out, by leaving an impression.
His cum pulses out, hot spurts mixing with mine, leaving our bodies sticky-slick with our combined release as he slumps on top of me.
He eventually releases the sensitive skin of my collarbone—a sensation of prickles left behind in the wake of his suction—licking it and pressing gentle kisses to it afterwards as if admiring his handiwork with his lips and tongue.
“I, um—sorry. I left quite a hickey,” he croaks.
“It’s okay,” I sign back with the hand I was using to gently comb my fingers through his hair.
“Lauren’s good with that makeup correction thing, if you need help covering it up,” he explains.
I tug my discarded shirt down off the back of the couch and show it to him.
“Yeah, well,” he huffs. “It’s supposed to be hot all weekend, you’re not going to want to take your shirt off at all?”
I shrug. “I can deal,” I sign to him one-handed, since the other is still pinned beneath him.
“Bummer,” he sighs, finally peeling himself away from me. “You have such a nice chest to look at. As far as defined pecs go, those are de-fuckin’-fined.”
I huff out a silent chuckle. “Tossing around heavy lobster traps all day hasn't hurt yours either,” I note.
He looks down at them, flexing them in an alternation. I watch them bounce under his thick thatch of dark hair. He catches me practically drooling and offers me a shy grin. “Surely you don’t mean these moobs.”
“These”—I reach up, palming one in each of my hands and give them a good squeeze—"are not moobs. Trust me. While both are very nice, there’s a distinct difference between breasts and pectorals.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it, since I’m not omni like you are,” he snarks.
I let my thumb and index finger give one of his nipples a playful little roll, feeling it pebble in the pads of my fingertips. Then I ask him, “Yours would look good with a little jewelry, don’t you think?”
He blinks at me. “We talked about going to get ours pierced together,” he reminds me. “But that was back before… well, you know.”
“Is that why you never ended up getting them done?”
After a moment of thought, he nods. “Yeah, it was something that was going to be ours. After our falling out, I couldn’t bring myself to go do them by myself. It seemed pointless.”
“If there’s going to be an us again, would you still want to go do it?”
He sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth. “You really want there to be an us us? Like a relationship? You weren’t just saying that so that we could, you know, just have sex or whatever?”
I roll my eyes and nudge him back so I can sit up.
“I don’t know how I can explain this to you any better, it was never just about the sex when me and you were together before.
It was great, sure. I mean, hell yeah, it was awesome, but that wasn’t all for me.
I even loved the times when all we did was just hang out together: watching movies, going disc golfing, and dragging your whining ass up a mountain before you’d finally relent and admit that the view was totally worth it. ”
Marcus smirks. “We did cram a lot of fun into six short months. How I ever managed it, all while going back home and being there for my wife and special-needs infant son, I’ll never know. There never seems to be enough hours in the day anymore.”
“That’s why I think it’ll be better once we get things out in the open,” I agree. “We won’t have to dodge and hide anymore. It’ll eliminate one giant speed-bump so we can work on tackling the rest. But I want you to to be a part of it too.”
“Well, if we’re going to do this, we had better finish getting packed rather than, um, getting distracted,” Marcus sighs. “Stay put, I’ll get us something to get cleaned up with.”
I shake my head. “You stay put. I’ve got it.”
“But I—” he starts to protest, sitting up.
I give him a light shove backwards. “Be a good boy and stay,” I press. “For once in your life, let someone give you the aftercare you deserve.”
He narrows his eyes at me.
I chuckle. “That expression is about as threatening as a toothless chihuahua. Chill out.” And on that, I pad into the washroom.