Chapter 19
James
Iwoke in the middle of the night, overheated and sweating.
It took me a moment to remember that Kent was in the bed with me, that I’d practically ordered him to sleep beside me.
However, when I’d done that, I hadn’t known he was such a cuddler in his sleep.
There was an arm draped over my waist, a leg kicked over my thigh, and his face was buried against the back of my neck. He was like an octopus.
I tried to shift away, to get some air between us, but his arm tightened reflexively, pulling me closer. A soft sound escaped his throat and I froze.
That’s when I felt it. The unmistakable hardness pressing against my lower back through the thin fabric of his boxers.
My breath caught. Kent was hard. Rock hard. And from the way his hips were moving in tiny, unconscious circles, grinding against me, he was definitely dreaming about something.
I should wake him up. That was the reasonable thing to do. But my body had other ideas. Heat pooled low in my belly, my own cock beginning to stir in response to the feeling of him rutting against me.
“James,” Kent mumbled, his voice thick with sleep and want.
Holy shit. He was dreaming about me.
His hips rolled again, more insistently this time, and I bit back a moan. The friction was maddening even through our boxers. I could feel every ridge, every throb of his cock as it slid against me.
This was wrong. He was asleep. He didn’t know what he was doing.
But then his hand slid from my waist down to my hip, fingers digging in as he pulled me back harder against him. His breathing had gone ragged against my neck, hot puffs of air that made me shiver.
“Fuck,” he breathed, still lost in whatever dream had him in its grip.
My resolve crumbled. I pressed back against him, meeting his next thrust with one of my own. Kent made a desperate sound, his grip on my hip tightening almost painfully.
I reached down, hooking my thumbs into the waistband of my boxers and shoving them down. Then I did the same with Kent’s, carefully working them over his straining erection. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake, just kept grinding against me with increasing urgency.
His bare cock slid against my ass now, hot and slick with pre-cum. I could feel it smearing across my skin, making everything slippery. I reached back, wrapping my hand around his length and guiding him between my cheeks.
Kent groaned, the sound vibrating against my shoulder. His hips snapped forward instinctively, and the head of his cock caught against my entrance.
I should stop. I should definitely stop. But instead, I reached for the bedside table, fumbling for the small bottle of lube I kept in the drawer. My hands were shaking as I slicked up my fingers, reaching back to prep myself as quietly as I could.
Kent’s movements had slowed slightly, his breathing evening out, and I worried he might be waking up. But then I pressed one finger inside myself and had to bite my lip to keep from making noise, and his arm tightened around my waist again.
I worked myself open quickly, too desperate to take my time. Two fingers, then three, stretching myself while Kent continued his unconscious grinding against my ass. Every time the head of his cock slipped against my hole, I had to fight the urge to just push back and take him.
When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I slicked up his cock with more lube, coating him thoroughly. Then I reached back, angling him just right, and slowly began to sink down onto him.
The stretch burned in the best way. I’d prepped myself, but it had been quick, and Kent was thick. I had to pause halfway, breathing through the intensity of it. Behind me, Kent made a confused sound, his hips twitching forward.
“Shh,” I whispered, not sure if I was talking to him or myself.
I pushed back further, taking him deeper, until finally he was fully seated inside me. We both went still for a moment, and I could feel his cock pulsing, could feel every breath he took.
Then Kent’s hips rolled forward, a sleepy, instinctive thrust, and pleasure shot up my spine.
“Oh fuck,” I breathed, one hand coming up to muffle my mouth.
He did it again, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in.
His movements were slow and uncoordinated, nothing like the deliberate pace he might have set if he were awake.
But something about the unconscious nature of it made it even hotter.
He was fucking me in his sleep, driven purely by instinct and need.
His hand slid from my hip down to wrap around my cock, and I nearly came on the spot. He stroked me in the same lazy rhythm as his thrusts, his palm rough and perfect.
“James,” he mumbled again, and this time his voice sounded more present, like he might be starting to wake.
I didn’t care anymore. I pushed back against him, meeting each thrust, chasing the pleasure building inside me. The angle was perfect, hitting that spot inside me that made my toes curl.
“Kent,” I gasped. “Don’t stop.”
His rhythm faltered, then suddenly his grip on me tightened. “James?” His voice was clearer now, confused. “What—oh fuck.”
He was awake. And he’d just realized he was balls deep inside me.
“Don’t stop,” I repeated, reaching back to grab his hip, holding him in place. “Please don’t stop.”
For a moment I thought he might pull away, might freak out about what was happening. But then he groaned, low and desperate, and his hips snapped forward hard.
“You feel so good,” he breathed against my neck. “God, James, you’re so tight.”
He was fully awake now, his movements becoming more purposeful. He adjusted his angle slightly and thrust in deep, making me cry out. His hand on my cock picked up speed, stroking me in time with his thrusts.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice strained. “Tell me this is okay.”
“More than okay,” I gasped, my fingers digging into his hip. “Don’t you dare stop now.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. His thrusts became deeper, more confident, and I could feel him losing himself in the sensation. The hand on my cock was working me expertly now, his thumb swiping over the head on every upstroke.
“I was dreaming about you,” he confessed, his voice rough in my ear. “About doing this. I didn’t think—fuck—I didn’t think it would actually happen.”
“What else did you dream about?” I managed to ask, even though coherent thought was becoming difficult.
His response was to bite down gently on my shoulder, his hips snapping forward hard enough to make the bed creak. “I dreamed about making you cum. About feeling you fall apart around me.”
The words sent a shiver through me. This was a side of Kent I hadn’t seen before. He was confident, vocal, and completely uninhibited. Maybe it was easier for him in the dark, half-awake and driven by pure desire rather than overthinking everything.
“Touch me harder,” I demanded, and he obliged immediately, his fist tightening around my cock.
The dual sensations were overwhelming. Every thrust hit that perfect spot inside me, and his hand was working me with increasing urgency. I could feel myself getting close, that familiar tension coiling at the base of my spine.
“James,” Kent groaned, and I could hear the strain in his voice. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”
“Good,” I panted. “Want to feel you cum inside me.”
He made a strangled sound, his rhythm faltering. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Maybe.” I clenched around him deliberately, and he cursed.
His thrusts became erratic, chasing his release. I could feel him swelling inside me, could hear the desperation in every breath he took. The hand on my cock was moving frantically now, and I knew he was determined to make me cum first.
“Come on,” he urged, his lips against my ear. “Cum for me, James. Want to feel it.”
The combination of his words, his hand, and the relentless pressure against my prostate pushed me over the edge. My orgasm hit me like a freight train, pleasure crashing through me in waves. I came hard, spilling over his fist and onto the sheets below us, my whole body going rigid.
The feeling of me clenching around him must have been too much. Kent buried himself deep and came with a low moan, his cock pulsing as he filled me. His hips jerked forward a few more times, riding out the aftershocks, before he finally went still.
We lay there for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, his softening cock still inside me. His arm was still wrapped around my waist, holding me close, and I could feel his heart hammering against my back.
“Holy shit,” he finally breathed.
“Yeah,” I agreed, because what else was there to say?
He pulled out slowly, and I felt the loss immediately. But before I could miss his warmth, he was rolling me over to face him, his hand cupping my cheek as he kissed me. It was soft and sweet, completely at odds with what we’d just done.
“I can’t believe I just fucked you in my sleep,” he said when he pulled back, and I could hear the embarrassment creeping into his voice.
“You woke up eventually,” I pointed out. “And you definitely finished the job awake.”
He laughed, the sound low and genuine. “True. Still, that’s got to be the weirdest way I’ve ever had sex with someone.”
“Weirdest? Or hottest?”
He pretended to think about it. “Definitely hottest.”
I grinned, pressing another kiss to his lips. “Good answer.”
We needed to clean up. I could feel his cum starting to leak out of me, and the sheets were definitely covered in lube. But neither of us seemed willing to move just yet. Instead, Kent pulled me closer, tucking my head under his chin.
“So,” he said after a moment, his face out of view. “About earlier. With Trevor.”
My good mood deflated slightly. “Do we have to talk about that right now?”
“Probably not the best timing,” he admitted. “But I want you to know I’m sorry. For how I reacted. You were right. I do put up walls when I get scared.”
I pulled back to look at him. “And are you still scared?”
“Terrified,” he said honestly. “But I’m also done running. You called me out on it, and you were right. I can’t keep doing that to you. To us.”
The word ‘us’ made something warm bloom in my chest. “So, what does that mean?”
“It means we figure this out together. Whatever Trevor does or doesn’t do, whatever happens at work, whatever our parents think if they ever find out…
We handle it together.” His thumb stroked along my cheekbone.
“I’m not saying I’m ready to shout it from the rooftops or anything.
But I’m done pretending this doesn’t matter. That you don’t matter.”
I kissed him again, deeper this time, trying to pour everything I was feeling into it. When we finally broke apart, we were both smiling.
“We should probably deal with this mess,” I said, gesturing to the sheets.
Kent groaned. “Do we have to?”
“Unless you want to sleep in the wet spot.”
“Fair point.” He reluctantly pulled away, climbing out of bed. I watched him walk naked to the bathroom, completely unselfconscious, and felt a surge of affection so strong it almost hurt.
This thing between us was messy and complicated and probably a terrible idea. But as Kent returned with a warm washcloth and started cleaning me up with gentle care that made my heart clench, I thought maybe we could make this work.
“You’re being very sweet right now,” I observed, watching him concentrate on his task.
“Yeah, well.” His ears went a little pink. “I just fucked you raw. Least I can do is clean you up after.”
I laughed softly. “Such a gentleman.”
“Shut up.” But he was smiling as he said it, tossing the washcloth toward the bathroom before crawling back into bed beside me.
We ended up stripping the sheets and remaking the bed together, working in comfortable silence. When we finally settled back under the fresh covers, Kent immediately pulled me against him again, resuming his octopus position.
“You’re a clingy sleeper,” I commented, though I made no move to pull away.
“You literally ordered me to sleep in this bed with you. Don’t complain about the consequences.”
He had a point. I settled more comfortably against him, letting my eyes drift closed. My body felt pleasantly worn out, satisfied in a way I hadn’t experienced in a long time. Maybe ever.
“James?” Kent’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you. For not letting me push you away.”
I laced my fingers through his where they rested on my stomach. “Always.”
His breathing evened out within minutes, and I wasn’t far behind. Whatever tomorrow brought—whether it was disaster or salvation, we’d face it together. That I was sure of.