Chapter 15 Sam #2
“Hi.” He yawns and moves up, setting his chin on my shoulder.
It’s so cute I wanna crash into the median.
“Where are we?” He’s taking in everything, the high rise condominiums lining the street and the flashes of ocean and beach between them, the towering palm trees with the clattering fronds. “This isn’t the interstate.”
“Nope.”
“Are we here? Is this Miami?”
“Nah.” I brake for a red light. “This is Daytona Beach. I used to come up here a lot and visit my grandparents before they died. My mom’s parents,” I clarify. “They retired here. It’s like four or five hours north of Miami.”
“Oh.” He’s still sleep-fuddled. “Why are we…?”
“I didn’t think we should push to Miami tonight. You had that seizure and all…I figured you might wanna stop early. Like before.”
“We don’t have to,” he says. “I’ll be alright.”
“I dunno. I thought we could kinda have a last hurrah.” I bite the inside of my lip. “Before, y’know.”
“Oh.” He rubs his cheek against my shoulder in an absent, sleepy kind of way and it turns my heart to complete mush. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”
“You’re not mad? I guess I should’ve asked, but I didn’t want to wake you.” And it’s also easier to ask forgiveness than permission.
“No. It’s okay, Sam.” He gives me a small smile. “What’s one more night? It’ll be nice.”
It didn’t exactly open the kind of dialogue I hoped, but at least he’s not mad. Considering I’m spending more of his money when I don’t have to, he’d be justified. But, okay. I guess he wants to spend a little bit more time with me.
Ash clambers into the front seat, squeezing past me. “So,” he says. “I owe you, right?”
“Owe me?” I echo. “What do you mean?”
His hand snakes across the center console, palm skimming over my jeans. “Yeah. Since I sorta bailed out earlier.”
My cock immediately stiffens. I draw in a sharp breath. “Ash, I don’t—”
Too late. He’s already drawing my zipper down, fishing through the hole in my boxers, and my dick is rising beautifully to the occasion.
Ho-lee-shit. I’ve actually never been so turned on in my life.
The small logical part of me tries to argue anyway.
“Wait,” I say in a strained voice. “I don’t know about this. ”
“Just focus on driving.” He wraps a hand around my length and pulls back the foreskin, exposing the head. Already there’s pre-cum pearling at the tip. “Okay? Don’t get us killed.”
“Holy fuck,” I say. “Easier said than done.”
From the corner of my eye I can see he’s watching my face.
I have to concentrate very hard on watching the road, staying away from the car ahead of me.
His wrist rolls expertly as he works me, his thumb brushing the tip of my cock, and I stifle a groan, shifting my hips up to meet his hand. “Fuck,” I grit out.
“Pay attention,” he reminds me one more time before he snakes under my arm and rubs his face against my length. His lips drag along the skin and I inhale sharply, nearly jerking the wheel into oncoming traffic.
“Butterfly.” The word escapes me on a breathy exhale. “Oh, that feels good.”
Then he pops his mouth onto my cock. Onto my fucking cock as I’m driving through fucking Daytona, making my way towards the shore, and I nearly slam on the brakes and put us both through the windshield.
I’ve never gotten road head in my life ever and it’s so stupid, so dangerous, but fuck.
Is it awful to say I love it? A little violence and danger never hurt no one, right?
Getting your cock sucked in the middle of heavy beach traffic and god, Ash is good.
He’s got absolutely no gag reflex to speak of, I surmise, as he fits the whole thing into his mouth and I hit the back of his throat.
I moan and buck my hips and he comes up off me, tongue swirling the crown.
“Oh my god,” I breathe. “Don’t stop.”
Down he goes again, hand working me in tandem and fuck fuck fuck.
Already I feel close, my abdomen tight and hot the way it goes before I come, and the back of his throat feels as tight and hot as his hole.
He swallows around me and my hips spasm of their own accord; I thrust into his mouth a few times before I realize what I’m doing and have to make myself stop.
I’m gripping the steering wheel for dear life. My other hand fists into his hair.
“Ash,” I moan. “Ah, fuck. Your mouth feels fucking good.”
Wonder if anyone can see us.
Probably bad that I halfway wish they could. Some guy or girl, doesn’t matter. Looking over and seeing my cock stuffed into this gorgeous boy’s throat. Watching me come in his mouth, or maybe all over his face.
The sounds I’m making now are kind of helpless.
It’s getting harder to care where the fuck I am on the road, but I’m trying.
Trying to think around Ash’s wet, hot mouth as it descends on my dick again and again, his tongue tracing the veins, playing along my foreskin.
Dipping into the slit where I’m leaking so bad for him and tasting me, urging me on with his own small sounds.
He pops back off me, licks the head of my cock again.
I glance down long enough to see his wet, swollen lips, his teary eyes.
God, he’s absolutely beautiful like this, all fucked up from choking on my dick.
I want to fuck his mouth until those tears come spilling down his cheeks. “Are you close?” he whispers.
“Yes.”
“You wanna come in my mouth?”
“Fuck yes I do.”
He slides his lips onto me again and this time he’s faster, like his mouth is riding me. My head hits the back of his throat again and again and he makes this stuttering moan, writhing across the console, and after that I just can’t hold back.
“Gonna come,” I choke out.
I shove his head down on me as I come down his throat in spurts, gasping his name, and I have to resist the urge to throw my head back, shut my eyes. I come in his mouth and he swallows it all as I turn onto the Main Street Bridge.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” I mumble as he pulls away. There’s a string of my cum stretching from his tongue to the tip of my still-twitching cock.
He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “Now we’re even.”
I wasn’t counting, but I’m also not complaining.
We pick a hotel, park and check in. They offer us a room with two queens, and I don’t have a reason or excuse to say no. It would look weird as fuck for me to ask for just the one.
We ride the elevator up to our tenth-floor room.
This is the nicest hotel room of our journey by far—not that there was much competition beyond the one in Savannah.
The walls are painted the pastel orange of a sunset, and the bathroom could be sectioned off into a bedroom on its own by its sheer size.
There’s an adjoining powder area with a vanity topped by a gilt, shell-shaped mirror.
The queen beds are stacked with plush comforters and pillows, many of which are also shaped like shells.
Yep. Florida.
Ash is drawn to the balcony in particular, though. He tosses his backpack onto one of the beds and then immediately opens the sliding glass door, stepping out. I follow him, buffeted by the sea breeze and the smell of salt the moment I do.
Our balcony overlooks the hotel’s oval-shaped pool, and from there is direct access to the beach, just through the gate and down a short flight of stairs.
And there are beachgoers, scores of them, sunning on towels and shading beneath umbrellas and gamboling in the glittering waves.
People driving four-by-fours make their way up and down the flat-packed strip of sand.
Ash steps forward and grips the railing and I watch him, for just a moment, the way the wind blows his hair aside and exposes the scars on the back of his neck. “Sheesh,” he says. “Never seen anything like this in my life.”
I glance around, but the coast is relatively clear—I don’t see anyone on any adjoining balconies that might see us. So I move closer and lay a kiss on the back of his neck, wrapping my arms around him. He makes a little hum of contentment, his hands closing around my wrists. “Like it?” I ask.
“God, yeah. It’s amazing.”
I point to the right, down the shore. “See that super tall condo building with all the green on it? That’s where my grandparents used to live. My sisters and I stayed there every other summer when we were kids.”
“From one beach to another?”
I smile. “Well, yeah. But they’re totally different. The pace here is way slower.”
“Slower?” he repeats in disbelief.
“Miami is nuts, dude. Not in a bad way though. You’ll see.” I inhale deeply, my cheek butting up against his. “Man, it’s nice being back here. I have a lot of good memories.”
“With your family?”
I nod and then go quiet, taking in the sights and soaking up the nostalgia, breathing in the boy in my arms. He’s relaxed there and I love him there. I like that I get to show all of this to him. I really, really hope I get to keep doing it when we get home.
Impulsively, I say, “Maybe when we get to Miami, you can stay with me for a little while.”
“Huh? Don’t you live with your parents?”
I laugh. “What? No. No way.”
“You said your mom packed for you. Like, the first night you mentioned that. I remember.”
“She came over and helped, sure. But I don’t live with her.”
“Um.” He turns in my arms to look at me. “I don’t know.”
“Not forever,” I say hastily. “I mean, just til you get back on your feet, you know? Like, when you get settled, find a job, a place to live. All of that stuff.”
Ash’s gaze slides sideways. He pushes his hair out of his face. “I don’t know,” he says again. “Maybe.”
“I mean, we seem to do okay together. Living together. Like, we haven’t killed each other. And I have two bedrooms, so you can have your own space and everything.” I feel like I’m babbling, the words coming out rushed and half-thought-out. “We don’t have to, though. It was just a thought.”
He offers me a faint smile before turning around again. “I’ll think about it.”