CHAPTER 11. Noah
My heart is still hammering in my chest, my body loose as I come back to myself. The ceiling blurs above me, then sharpens again, and I become aware of Connor’s breath warm against my thigh.
I look down, and my stomach flips.
He’s still there, cheek pressed to my skin, eyes closed, mouth pink and swollen from what he just did to me.
Well. Technically, from what I did to him.
For a moment, I can’t speak. My brain is still shorting out, my whole body heavy in that strange, melted way that makes moving feel impossible. But as my vision clears and my breathing evens out, I really look at him.
Connor’s hair is wrecked from my hands. His lips are parted, still wet. The flush on his cheeks goes all the way down his neck before disappearing under his shirt. He looks completely undone.
The tenderness of the moment hits me so hard I have to swallow.
After that—after making me come apart with his mouth—he’s still so careful with me. So gentle.
Then my gaze drops lower, and I notice the bulge in his boxers.
He’s still hard.
Really hard.
“Connor,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Come up here.”
He opens his eyes and glances at me, and God, the way he looks right now—like he’s coming back from somewhere far away—makes my heart skip.
He shifts up the bed until he’s close enough for me to touch. His erection strains against the front of his boxers, huge and obvious enough to make my mouth go dry.
Without thinking, I cover him with my hand.
Connor’s breath catches. He throbs under my palm, hot through the thin cotton, and his hips push into my touch before he can stop himself.
A jolt of arousal goes through me, even though I just came.
“Let me take care of you,” I whisper, pushing myself up on one elbow.
My hand moves to the waistband of his boxers. Connor helps me, lifting his hips as I tug the fabric down, and then he’s free—his cock flushed dark at the tip, slick with precum.
Fuck.
He’s gorgeous.
I want to put my mouth on him. I want to see him lose control the way he made me lose control. I want to taste him, feel him pulse against my tongue, hear what he sounds like when he stops holding back.
I start to lean in, but Connor’s hand comes to my shoulder, stopping me.
“Noah,” he says, and his voice is so rough it sends a shiver down my spine. “Can I—” He stops, swallows. “I don’t have condoms, so I won’t do anything, but can I just…” His cheeks go crimson. “Can I just…rub against you?”
Rub.
I’m pretty sure my face gives me away completely, because the request sends a wave of heat through my body so fast I can barely process it.
I’m not even fully sure what he means.
I just know it sounds fucking hot.
“Yeah,” I say quickly, before he can mistake my shock for hesitation. “Yes. I mean, I’m on PrEP, so we can do it without condoms. Or not. Whatever you want is fine.”
I’m talking too fast. I know I’m talking too fast, but I can’t seem to stop, because suddenly I’m terrified he’ll change his mind.
“I don’t have lube either,” Connor says, a trace of regret in his voice.
“Oh. Okay.” My face burns. “Let’s do that thing, then. The rubbing thing.”
Connor watches me for a moment longer, like he’s trying to make sure I’m really okay with it, then guides me onto my stomach.
“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice close now.
“Yeah,” I murmur.
The mattress shifts under his weight. I hear fabric rustle, and then his hands are on my hips, big and warm. His touch is careful at first, like he’s still making sure I want this, and then one of his fingers slides between my cheeks, brushing over me.
I shiver, my breath catching.
Connor takes his boxers off completely and settles closer, his knees pressing against the outside of my thighs. I can feel the heat of him behind me, the weight of his body as he leans over me.
Then his cock slides along the crease of my ass.
Not pushing inside. Just pressing against me, hot and slick.
My back arches before I can stop it, my hips pushing back toward the pressure.
It’s been so long since anyone touched me like this.
“Is this okay?” Connor asks again.
“Yes,” I say, pushing back to make it clear. “God, yes.”
Connor makes a rough sound behind me. The mattress shifts as he leans back, and a second later his shirt drops to the floor beside the bed.
Then his hands return to my hips, and his cock drags along sensitive skin. The friction is perfect—not enough, then too much, then suddenly just right as he finds a rhythm. My cock, which had softened after I came, starts to fill again as pleasure builds low in my spine.
“Fuck,” Connor mutters behind me, one hand sliding up to press between my shoulder blades, keeping me down as his hips roll against me.
The pressure is maddening—Connor’s cock sliding along my crack, the head catching against my entrance but never pushing in. Each time it happens, my body tenses with anticipation, even though I know nothing is going to happen tonight.
It’s torture.
It’s perfect.
“Connor,” I gasp when the head of his cock bumps against me again, sending a jolt of pleasure up my spine. “Fuck me. Please.”
He lets out a rough little laugh, like the words almost undo him.
“It won’t feel good without lube,” he says.
He’s right.
I know he’s right.
But I’m suddenly terrified there might not be another time.
His cock catches against my entrance again, on purpose this time, and I bite my lip to keep from making too much noise. We’re not alone in this house. Rick and Cassidy are in the room next to ours, and they must be able to hear us, but I can’t stay quiet even if I want to.
Connor pulls back suddenly. I turn my head, trying to see what’s happening, and catch him spitting into his palm.
My whole body goes hot at the sight.
Then he’s back, his cock slick with spit now, sliding against me with less resistance. Each thrust pushes me a little farther into the mattress. My cock aches, fully hard again, trapped between my stomach and the sheets.
I could reach for myself, but I don’t want to move. I don’t want to break whatever is happening between us.
Connor leans closer, his chest pressing against my back, one hand braced beside my head, the other still between my shoulder blades.
His mouth finds my neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses that make me shiver.
The weight of him is intoxicating. He’s so much bigger than me, all muscle and heat, and I feel small under him in the best possible way.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” Connor murmurs against my skin.
“Not enough,” I manage, pushing back to meet his next thrust.
His breath catches.
“I want to feel you come,” I tell him, the words spilling out before I can think better of them.
“Fuck, Noah,” Connor groans, his thrusts picking up.
I reach back, finding his hip, pulling him closer, harder against me. He gives me what I’m asking for, small grunts slipping out of him as he moves. It’s so intimate, I can almost imagine what it would feel like if he fucked me for real.
“Connor,” I pant, my voice breaking on his name. “Please.”
I don’t even know what I’m asking for, but he gives me more anyway. More pressure. More speed.
Then he lifts off me for a moment, shifting me onto my side without stopping completely. I barely have time to process the new angle before he spits into his hand again and wraps it around my cock.
The first stroke almost makes me sob.
The pressure builds at the base of my spine, that familiar tightening telling me I’m already close. Connor must be close too, because his breath is hot against my ear now, his grunts turning into moans he doesn’t even try to hide.
It only takes a few strokes.
My orgasm hits me hard, pleasure tearing through me as I come for the second time tonight, shaking in his grip. Connor keeps moving through it, his cock sliding along the crease of my ass until his breath catches hard against my ear.
Then he comes.
Hot streaks spill across my lower back, and my name breaks from his mouth, raw and desperate. The sound hits me almost as hard as the orgasm itself, because I wanted this. I wanted to hear him like this. I wanted to know I could make him come apart too.
We both moan as the pleasure rolls through us, and I feel Connor’s cock slide between my cheeks again, messy and possessive as he marks me there too.
Holy fuck.
For several seconds, I can’t move. I can’t think. I can’t do anything but feel the aftershocks pulse through me.
Connor stays there for a moment, his weight warm behind me, his breath hot against the back of my neck. I can feel the rapid beat of his heart where his chest touches my back as he slowly comes down.
“Sorry,” he mumbles against my skin, even though he doesn’t sound sorry at all. Just breathless and a little dazed.
I smile. “Don’t be.”
He presses a kiss to my shoulder, then carefully moves away from me. Cool air hits my back where his body had been, and I already miss the heat of him.
“Give me a sec,” he says, his voice still rough.
He crosses the room toward the bathroom, and I turn my head to watch him go, his back muscles shifting under his skin. My gaze drops straight to his ass.
God, it’s magnificent.
And he looks good. Really good. Better than good, actually.
He looks like he’s mine. At least for tonight.
Something about that thought makes my chest squeeze.
The bathroom light flicks on, then off a few moments later. Connor comes back carrying a hand towel, his eyes finding mine.
He sits on the bed, his movements gentle as he draws the warm cloth across my lower back and my ass. The care in his touch makes my throat tight.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, but I don’t make any move to stop him. “I’ll take a shower.”
“You can barely move,” he says softly. “Let me just clean us up, then we can go to bed. I’m too tired to shower anyway.”
He’s so careful—wiping away the mess he made, cleaning between my legs too. It shouldn’t feel this intimate, not compared to what we just did, but somehow this is what undoes me—the way he handles me like I’m something precious.
I yawn, my body loose and heavy with the aftermath of pleasure. I feel raw, tender, exposed.