Kaden
It took a week and four nights of gaming and hangouts for us to go back to normal. Like nothing happened.
The relief is out of this world.
I was sure that I’d fucked everything up.
I haven’t even reflected on the fact that I had sex with a guy.
It was so secondary to everything else. And I’m not sure that sex under the influence of fucking Molly even counts, so—I mean, am I bisexual now?
Because I let a guy suck me off one time? And when I was high as a kite?
I find that hard to believe.
People do all kinds of weird stuff when they are high. Or drunk. And I can usually handle that pretty well. I smoke weed from time to time, and nothing even remotely close to something like this has ever happened before, so, no. I don’t think I’m bi.
Hell, I haven’t even looked at a guy in that way before, and I haven’t started since. It’s been two weeks since that night, and I don’t look at Seth any other way than I always have, either.
So, once doesn’t count.
“Why’s your fridge all empty? The fuck is this?” I say, reaching for a jar. “Pickles, Seth? The only thing in your fridge is a jar of pickles, and—” I reach for another jar. “What even is this?”
“It’s eye pads, you caveman. They’re Lou’s,” he says, snatching them from me and putting them back in the door. “I cleaned out the fridge while waiting for you to drag your lazy ass here. You’re so slow,” he frowns with a shake of his head.
“I’m slow because I’m hungry,” I state, rubbing my neck while taking another peek into the fridge like something might have magically appeared in the last five seconds. It hasn’t.
“Alright, we can order something,” he says, closing the door before he rubs his hands together and places them on my neck. “What are you up for?”
I groan, dropping my forehead against the fridge, shoulders relaxing as he starts kneading. He hasn’t done this since before that night, which means I haven’t felt another person’s touch on my body in two weeks.
It’s fucking heaven now.
I’m basically living celibate, and I’m so touch-starved, I feel like my skin lights up where he touches me.
“Kade?”
“Mm.”
“What do you want?” His voice is low, and his breath warm against my skin, making the hair on my neck stand up and my brain short-circuit.
Making connections it has no business making.
Thinking this is something it’s not.
That Seth’s question means something it doesn’t.
Sending signals to the parts of my body that I have no control over.
I place a clenched fist on the counter next to the fridge, squeezing my eyes shut, but mind control has never worked before, and it doesn’t work now.
“Am I too rough?” Seth’s voice is low and hoarse like it always is. I don’t trust my own voice, so I just shake my head. I’m not dressed for this. I’m wearing sweats, for fucks sake! They’re basically catnip for people foaming at the mouth for a dick print.
Fuck!
“What do you want, Kade?” he breathes, close to my ear, and I lose it. I turn around and meet Seth’s blue eyes, before they travel down my body and stop at my crotch.
He inhales. “You’re hard.”
I let my own gaze fall down his frame, stopping at the bulge in his sweats. “So are you.” My voice is all gravelly.
My eyes lock onto his, and he licks his bottom lip.
“Are we gonna do something about it?” he mumbles.
I half snort, my breath shaky. “Like what? Jerk off together?”
His gaze travels down my body again, before he nods. “Okay.”
With his eyes on me, he hesitates for a second before he brings his hand down his sweats, giving his dick a few strokes, and exhales slowly. Heavy.
I lean my head back against the fridge, my eyes darting back and forth between his hand and his eyes.
And then he pushes his sweats down, just enough for his dick to spring free.
He’s rock-hard and I don’t even realize what I’m doing until my hand’s wrapped around my own dick, and my sweats are pooling around my ankles.
My breathing is shaky as I drag my hand from the top, gathering the pre-cum and slowly stroke it down.
Seth’s pupils are blown wide, his mouth slightly ajar as his eyes dart up and down like he can’t decide where to look.
There’s so much want and desire in his eyes, I feel like prey.
A rush of thrill flows through me down to my dick like electricity.
I fist his hoodie, bringing him closer to me. Dropping my forehead to his and his uneven breaths hit my skin.
“This is so fucking stupid,” I mumble, tilting my head.
“Yeah,” he breathes, and then I capture his lips with my own. He thrusts his tongue inside and tangles it with mine, feeling out every space in my mouth, like he wants to map it out. And when he sucks on my tongue, my dick jerks in my hand and a moan slips out of me.
Seth drops a hand on the counter behind me as he takes half a step closer, and the hand around his dick moves against me with every stroke. I reach up to the back of his head, tugging the hair, and he whimpers into my mouth. And that makes me even harder.
He pulls back, looks at me with hooded, dark eyes.
His bottom lip glistens with our mixed saliva.
Then he bats my hand away from my dick, wraps a hand around both of us, before he lets a droplet of spit drip down on our dicks.
And that probably shouldn’t turn me on so much, but it does. Fuck, it does!
The spit mixes with the pre-cum, making it slick as he starts stroking us, and I gasp. My head falls back against the fridge with a thump. Seth puts his lips against my throat, kissing and licking, as he tightens his grip, and picks up the pace.
“Fuck… Why does that feel so fucking good?” I groan, looking down on us as I start thrusting into his fist. And why is the vision of our dicks in his hand the hottest thing I’ve ever seen? Make that make sense. Please.
He strokes up, doing some twist of his wrist before he strokes down again.
The feeling of his warm length against mine, and his soft hand that feels like my own, but also, definitely nothing like it, makes my legs start shaking.
My balls are drawn up tight, and I feel the tingles starting.
I’m getting closer to the edge so fast, it’s almost embarrassing.
“I’m close,” I exhale. “Fuck, Seth.” I grab hold of his waist, burying my fingers into his skin so deep and rough, it’ll probably leave bruises.
He bites down hard on my neck, groaning as his cum coats us both, and I fall over the edge with such force, I think I might black out.
My legs are fighting to keep me standing as I throw my head back and a fucking growl leaves my throat.
We stand there until our breathing’s evened out, and the stickiness between us is getting cold, and then he moves his head. Pulling back a little and I can feel him stare at my neck.
“What?” I ask, looking at him out of the corner of my eye.
“I think it’s gonna leave a mark.”
Twice doesn’t count.
Right?