Zeke #2
He goes to pack up, but before he can leave, my hand flies out to cover his. I lean over the table toward him, feeling like a dick, but needing to say it. “Can you not, umm, tell anyone about this? Like, it’s just between us, yeah?”
He takes a second to read my face, and his eyes soften. “Yeah. It’s our secret.”
“Thank you.” My breath rushes out of me.
And then his lips curl into a smile I’ve never seen him wear before, and I’m suddenly very, very glad I won’t be able to see his face when we’re together. “Eleven o’clock on the dot. Don’t be late.”
I pace back and forth outside the door to Hush Hush, wiping my clammy palms off on my shorts. A million different ways this could go wrong have been racing through my mind, but I can’t make myself walk away.
I want to be here. I want to do this. I’m almost dizzy with nervous anticipation, and then I remember that smile Charles gave me before he left our meeting, and it’s enough to get me to push through the door.
It’s almost completely black. Darkness presses hard against my senses as I step into the room and close the door behind me. “Hello?” Fuck, my voice is unsteady.
“I’m here.”
Two words, whispered softly, and it feels like the ground has disappeared. I’m doing this.
Goddamn, I’m so nervous I feel like my insides are vibrating.
And hard.
I’m really fucking hard, and all I’ve heard is his voice.
I shuffle closer, my vision starting to adjust. There’s barely enough light in here for me to see where I’m going, but when Charles shifts, I catch the movement.
My outstretched hand finds his, and he guides me toward him. I stop closer to him than I’ve ever been before. The toes of our shoes are touching. His body warmth heats the small space between us.
“Ah, hey,” I say, not knowing what the fuck to do.
“Hi.”
The pressure to take control looms over me. If we’re going to do this, we need to touch. But even with us as close as we are, that distance feels impossible to cross.
“So w-what, umm … do you have any hard limits, or …?” Hearing the nervousness in Charles’s voice is all it takes for me to push through. Knowing we’re both in this together, that neither of us is relaxed, helps me take that next step.
“No.” I lean forward, pressing our bodies together. Legs, hips, torsos … the second we make contact, a shiver ripples down my spine. I can’t stop the needy breath that hits his ear. “Holy fuck, you feel so good.”
He chuckles and after a beat, his hands settle over my hips. “You do too.”
“What about you? Limits?”
He shakes his head, and the movement fills my nose with the scent of caramel and some kind of sweet-smelling shampoo. I lean my head closer and inhale again.
My heart is fucking pounding hard against my ribs as I lift my hands to his cheeks. The skin is smooth, freshly shaven, like fucking velvet or some shit. My gut won’t stop flipping out with every touch, every inhale, every whisper of his soft breaths beside me.
“How are we doing this?” I ask.
Charles clears his throat, and I catch that familiar movement of his head tilting higher. “I want to suck your cock.”
My eyes almost fall out at the bluntness of his words, and when I recover from them and what he’s said sinks in … he wants to suck my cock.
The awkwardness disappears, and a surge of affection runs through me.
I press closer, forcing Charles back into the wall as I blanket his body with mine.
My cock is throbbing in time with my heartbeat, and before I even know what I’m doing, my lips are on his neck.
He tastes incredible, and with every addictive lick or suck, Charles squirms, gasps, tightens his grip on my hips in a way that grounds me when all I want to do is float away.
He wants to suck my cock.
The need for him burns through my veins, and I wonder if once he’s done, I’ll be able to return the favor. To suck him into my mouth, feel a cock on my tongue, taste his cum and compare it to my own. My entire body is shaking with the need to experience it.
“Oh, fuck yes,” Charles moans. He tilts his hips forward, grinding against my thigh, and that’s when I feel it. His cock. His hard cock.
And it’s all fucking mine.
I groan, only partly aware of what I’m doing as my hands roam over his body. His chest, his back, his sides … I count to three and then my hands close over his ass.
Nrgh.
It’s full and round. Perfectly made to fit in my hands.
And as though my exploration has given him permission, Charles’s hands are everywhere too. One in my hair, one palming my pec. He writhes against me, head tipped back, desperate sounds puffing from between the same lips I was watching today.
I shake that image away and remind myself of what we agreed to earlier. This isn’t Charles. This is just a guy. A nameless guy. Who feels so fucking incredible against me.
His hand on my pec dips to run along my front, skimming my muscles and making my skin burn. Want vibrates directly from his touch to my cock, and before I can stop myself, I hitch his leg over my hip and press our groins together.
The feel of him against me makes me moan.
It’s the most incredible thing I've ever felt, and I roll my hips just so I can feel it again. A delicious ache is building in my gut, and the sound of Charles’s “Yes, oh, fuck, yes” pants are filling my ears and making me dizzy.
My grip on his ass tightens, and I steer his hips, rocking him against me, getting lost in our desperate movements and heavy breathing.
“Stop.”
I freeze, pulled out of the moment as panic flickers through me. But before I can ask why, before I can doubt or be disappointed that this is about to end, Charles plants his hands on my shoulders and spins us.
My back hits the wall, and Charles closes me in, teeth nipping at my earlobe.
“We’re going to do this properly,” he says, voice deepened with lust. Then he follows his hands down my body and ends up on his knees.
“Shit–” His name almost slips out, but I catch it in time. I’m not going to make this weird, because once this is over, we still have to see each other again, and I don’t know that I could look him in the eye, knowing he knows my secret.
Hands find the button on my shorts, slide down the zipper, tug at the material until it’s slipping down my thighs.
I’m regretting the decision to wear underwear right now, but even as I left the house, I couldn’t picture this actually happening.
I had no idea whether I’d follow through, and I’m so fucking glad I did.
It takes more energy than it normally would to swallow back my nerves and lift my hand to his hair. It’s just as soft as his skin, perfect curls a perfect length to grip onto. They slide between my fingers, and I close my hand into a fist.