18. Maxwell
Maxwell
The second that Clayton had his back turned, I fist bumped.
So much for needing to plan and weave my way back in. Every time he closed the door in my face it wasn't because he didn't want me near him. He couldn't trust himself not to cave. If I knew that his avoidance was just to keep me away, I would've swallowed my pity and tried sooner.
Live and you learn. Oh well.
All that matters is that we're on the way to a road less broken.
“You want to hang out here?” Clayton asks.
“Not really.”
“Do you want to get a bite to eat?”
“Nope.”
“Can we go to your spot?”
“I’m all set.”
“Maxwell, just tell me what you want.”
“Come with me,” I sing, tilting my head back and forth to the words. Clayton raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t object. I watch as he gathers his things and slings his backpack over his shoulder. I walk out, him trailing behind me with a huge smile across my face.
We walk together across campus, not holding hands, but close enough that our arms brush each other. Each time it shocks me that he’s walking by my side again.
Getting to my dorm, I open the door and slug my jacket off, hanging it over the chair at the desk. Clayton drops his bag in the chair and strips his hoodie off. As he pulls it up and over his head, his shirt rises and shows the V-lines right above the waistline of his jeans.
I look him up and down, taking in the sight of him because he is real. I am real. We are real. I’m not dreaming.
He’s here, back in my room, and it doesn’t feel so empty anymore.
Grabbing the remote, I throw the TV in the corner and open Prime. “Want to watch The Boondock Saints?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“You know I do.”
This movie is his favorite for some reason. We have watched it countless times.
Turning the volume up a bit, I toss the remote onto the desk and slip my shoes off before climbing onto my bed, leaning against the wall.
Clayton does the same, but instead of getting comfortable, he sits on the edge. He throws a look over his shoulder at me, his eyes full of words unsaid.
“What is it?”
“Is this actually real?” He asks me.
“This is actually real. I meant every apology and every word, Clayton. I’m truly sorry.”
He nods his head, but doesn’t say anything for a moment. “I forgive you, but I don’t trust you.”
“That’s okay. We’ll get there,” I give him a small reassuring smile. “Come here,” I add, tapping the mattress next to me.
He crawls over, sitting right next to me. Both of our backs against the wall, legs touching, and I slide my hand to his thigh and grip it.
Clayton focuses on the movie. My head is tilted back and to the side, looking at him as he watches. Sliding my hand further up his thigh, I take a shot in the dark. Hoping and praying that he’ll let me do this.
His attention turns to me. “What are you doing?”
“What does it feel like I’m doing?” Slowly, my hand inches closer and closer to his dick. He slides his hips down, opening himself up to my touch.
“Maxwell,” he whispers.
“Clayton,” I whisper back, leaning closer and placing a kiss on his jaw.
Tilting his head, he exposes more skin, and my lips follow until I reached the collar of his t-shirt.
“I need your help,” I admit. “I’ve never done this before.” The words are small, vulnerable.
It’s as if what I said was a switch. Clayton rises up to his knees, coaxing me to lay flat on my back before coming over me.
His lips reach me and he grabs the side of my face.
Leaning back, he looks into my eyes, and falls right back into me.
Kissing, licking, and sucking at my mouth like he’s been needing this for a lifetime.
Like he can’t get enough of me.
My hands run over his body as his do over mine.
Grabbing at the bottom of his shirt, I pull it up and over his head. He has abs, his skin is golden and he looks so much like something I want to take a bite of. Looking down at his body, I focus on each line and indent on his torso. The way his chest is sculpted perfectly.
“Do you like what you see?” He asks.
“Yes,” I rasp.
Clayton leans back, taking his belt off and undoing his jeans. While I watch him, I take my shirt off and the split second the fabric is over my face feels like too long. Too much time lost from the sight before me. I don’t want to miss a single thing.
If you had asked me even just a month ago if I would be laying beneath Clayton, drooling over his body and eager for him to take his cock out; maybe I’d have called you crazy.
I was in denial.
Me hurting him? That’s what opened my eyes. It made me realize I would do anything in this world to make sure he never hurt like that. Not from me. Not from anyone.
Clayton reaches down between us and unbuckles my belt, letting my button open, and shimmying my jeans down until I can slip out of them.
He pulls his pants off, too, and it’s just us.
Skin on skin with nothing but our boxers covering us.
His cock is bulging at his briefs, begging to be free, as is mine.
“What a sight you are, Maxwell,” he claimed, staring down at me. Our eyes lock before he’s down on me again, kissing and sliding his tongue into my mouth
He takes the distraction to slide his hand down, slipping into my boxers and gripping my cock.
With a tight grasp, he strokes me up and down and it takes everything in me not to thrust my hips into his hand.
Clayton stops and I groan at the loss, but it’s not for long since he’s removing both of our boxers.
He leans over me, using his arms to hold up his weight.
Lining up his cock next to mine, he thrusts his hips causing both of our shafts to rub together.
My fingers grip the sheets, my head falling back, and I’m afraid that I’m going to cum before this can even begin. It goes like this for a few moments. Moans and gasps slipping from my lips, Clayton’s lips trailing along my body. God, it’s too fucking much.
He stops.
Thank god because I don’t want to finish yet. I can’t finish when we have barely begun.
“You’re going to be on top, okay?” He says, voice soft. “If you want to stop at any moment, you let me know, alright?”
I nod. “Okay.”
He flips us over. Him laying on his back, me kneeling between his legs.
“Do you have lube?” He questions.
“Bedside drawer.” Leaning over, he grabs it. I watch him. His every movement, his entire body. All of him. My eyes move up and down, not sure where to look because I wish I could see all of him.
He passes me the bottle and I take it, staring down at it as if I don’t know how to use it. Grabbing it back from me, he squirts some into his hand and takes my cock in his hand. Stroking me and getting me nice and wet for him.
“Are you sure about this?” He asks. I bit my lip and nodded, moaning. He spreads his legs further around me.
“What if I hurt you?” I manage to grind out.
“You won’t.” With his free hand, he grips onto my hip and pulls me closer to him.
“Come on, baby,” he coos.
Taking my cock from his hand, I inch closer on my knees. Getting up to him, he takes his hands and spreads himself. His cock is sitting, pointing up to his stomach, a thick vein on each side running to the tip.
I could drool over him. It's almost weird to feel this way over a guy. It's not something I'm used to, but I've never been more eager in my life.
“Wait. Do we need a condom?”
“Oh. Right, sure. Yeah,” he answers. I point to the bedside table and he shuffles around to grab one. He doesn’t pass it to my open hand, but instead rips it open with his teeth and applies it himself.
“Are you nervous?” He asks.
“A little,” I admit.
“We don’t have to do this.”
“No! I want to. I do! Just bear with me.” I pause. “Should I.. prep you?”
“It’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
Clayton pulls me down to him by my face, slipping his fingers into my hair. “Fuck me, Maxwell.”
Shit, alright.
I grab the bottle of lube from next to his head, squirting some onto my cock and hand before lining up with him.
I push, feeling resistance, but keep going.
Watching Clayton’s face and waiting to hear if he tells me to stop, but he doesn’t.
Pushing my hips again, I slip inside of him and it’s so tight.
It’s nothing like I have ever felt before.
In all the girls I’ve been with, I’ve never tried to take them in the ass. Not because I didn’t want to, but because it never crossed my mind.
Slowly, I keep going inch by inch until I’m fully inside of him. Clayton’s mouth opens into an O, a gasp escaping his lips and I pull back, pushing in again.
My balls tighten instantly, threatening to cum already. I stop.
“Move, please. Fuck me,” Clayton begs.
“I can’t.”
“What?” His face drops, looking up at me.
“I’ll cum,” I gasp. “Give me a minute.”
He grabs my hand and wraps it around his cock, helping me stroke him. Moving his hand away, he lets me do the work.
Slowly, I begin to move in unison while jerking him off.
And god, the sounds. The moaning that’s coming from him is hot and music to my ears.
My thrusts are slow and sloppy and I’m trying with everything I can not to finish right now.
I lean forward, pushing one of his legs up, and it changes the angle.
“Fuuuck,” Clayton groans, eyes rolling back into his head.
“I can’t,” I breathe out, “hold it… any longer,” the words are strained as they come out.
With one more thrust of my hips and a stroke of his cock, I’m coming with his name on my lips and my eyes in the back of my head.
“Fuck, Max, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says over and over again, thrusting up and hard into my hand.
The movement rubs on my still semi-hard cock and it’s too much, but I don’t move.
I keep stroking him with the help of his hips until he’s spilling into my hand and over his stomach with a groan of my name off his lips.
After a moment, I pulled him out of him.
“One sec,” I say, shuffling off the bed and going into the bathroom connected to my dorm. I toss the condom, warming the water and grabbing two towels. Using one to wipe myself off, I bring the other out and wipe up the mess on Clayton’s skin.
Sitting on the edge of the bed next to him, I look at him.
“I’m sorry if that wasn’t good,” I mutter.
I’ve never felt insecure in the bedroom, but I don’t quite know what I’m doing here.
“It was perfect,” Clayton says with a smile. “It was the best.”
I pull my boxers on, throw his at him, and lay down beside him. The movie continues, we swap small kisses and our limbs tie together until we fall asleep next to one another.