Chapter 15 #3
So, the next time I touch him I forget about my hands and use my mouth instead. My lips are around the head, and my tongue has barely touched him when he grabs my hair and yanks me back.
“Shit, Roderick, if you do that it’s going to make a mess.”
His grip on my hair is so desperate, but I still tilt my head to one side, making sure my eyes are wide and innocent. “Don’t come then.”
I don’t take much of him in my mouth, just a little past the tip, but he’s a wreck.
He covers his mouth with his hand, muffing groans that make my own cock hard.
I drag my tongue across the head, lapping up a pearl of precum.
I crave more, but he’s right—if I keep going that’s going to be a huge mess to clean up.
Domesticity is hot, but I can see how that would be a mood killer.
I pull back and Christos’ hand falls from his face.
“Upstairs?”
I glance back at the TV. “Movie isn’t over yet.”
I’m well behaved the rest of the film, only touching his shoulders and cheeks. I know he’s into this, but I do feel bad teasing him so relentlessly, so I pepper little kisses throughout the rest of the film as an apology.
The screen turns black and the first line of credits hasn’t even crossed the screen before he picks me up, carrying me over his shoulder upstairs.
“Watch your head,” he warns as we climb up the stairs.
Figuring he’s speaking from experience, I keep my cheek pressed against his shoulder till he flops me onto the bed.
As he lifts up my shirt, he kisses up my torso, his horns inching closer and closer to my face.
I lift my arms so he can pull off my shirt.
He kisses my lips while tugging at my pants and I wriggle my way out of the denim.
My bare ass touches the towel covering the bed. I lay there, watching him stand over me as he pulls off his shirt.
Once he’s naked, he tells me, “Roll over.”
I do as he says, making sure I’m still laying in the center of the towel.
I can hear him opening the bedside table, the snap of a cap opening.
My cheeks flush and my ass goes tight, even though I know he’s not going to be inside me.
He’s never been in control like this before, and while I don’t hate it—far, far from it—it’s still jarring.
He smears some lube between my thighs before the head of his cock brushes against them. “You still want to do this?” he whispers in my ear.
“Yes.” I remember then there is something I have control over. “Don’t come till I say you can.”
“Yes, Roderick.”
I prop myself up on my elbows but his hand jumps to the base of my neck, gently pushing me flat on the bed.
“You’re so tense.” He massages the space between my shoulder blades with two fingers. I can’t see what he’s doing but the floor creeks and his hand slides down my back.
His hot, wet tongue slides between my ass cheeks.
I’d fantasized about tonguing his ass the whole flight back home, but this is even better.
He grabs a handful of ass, and I arch my back.
Closing my eyes, I focus on every figure he traces across my ass.
Everything about him is so big, his cock, his hands, his tongue—god, his tongue.
He drags his tongue from my ass up my spine. “There, much more relaxed.” He grabs the inside of my thighs.
“I want this.” I push off the bed, standing and pressing my back against his chest.“Fuck me.”
There’s so much heft in his hips alone. One thrust and it’s like all the wind in my lungs is pushed out of me as a long whimper. His cock slides between my legs, balls slapping against my ass. I stroke myself, following his rhythm of slow, deep strokes.
I watch his cock slide between my thighs. When I look away I find he is looking over my shoulder, doing the same. His hips are flush with my ass and his cock so hard it nearly touches mine. I open my hand wider, barely able to hold us both.
I roll my head back, the friction of his cock and mine to die for. Our eyes meet. His jaw is tight and eyes sharp like he needs to focus. After all the teasing downstairs, I’m not surprised he’s already at the breaking point. “So fucking good,” he groans, his thrusts now short and fast.
“Not till I say…” I remind him.
His words are rushed and desperate. “How do I make you come?”
I assure him, “This is so good.”
A hand grabs my chin, tilting my head back to the point my back bends to follow. It’s like he wants me to perform a Biellmann spin for him.
“You’re so fucking good.” He groans before kissing me hard, making sure I choke on his tongue. All while thrusting so hard and fast he’d knock me over if he wasn’t holding me so tightly.
My toes curl first, then my whole body goes stiff and now I’m the one fighting back release. Christos doesn’t let up. Not till I’m shaking and whimpering around his tongue. Not untill he has to break away to breathe.
He turns me around, pushing me back onto the bed.
Grabbing my calves he lifts up my legs, crossing my ankles before setting them on his shoulder.
I’m struggling to catch my breath from the kiss, my heart racing faster than at the peak of my routine.
His cock slides between my tight thighs.
With every thrust he grunts. His cock grinds against mine and I know I’m done for.
Panting, I tell him. “Now—please!”
We finish together. I spill onto my chest before the flood of his cum drenches me.
It pools around my stomach before dripping down my sides like candle wax.
To him, do I look like an idol to worshiped by candlelight?
Or am I just a horny guy getting what he begged for.
Once his orgasm has settled he also collapses, catching himself with his forearm and nuzzling into my neck.
Lost in a haze of lust and exhaustion. I think he says something but I can’t hear him over my heartbeat. He starts kissing my neck.
“Hm? I mumble, not quite ready for words yet.
“You,” he’s still catching his breath. “Plan that?”
“I don’t plan everything.”
He sighs, smiling against my shoulder. “Could have fooled me.”
He grabs another towel and cleans my torso best he can before folding up the spoiled towels and setting them aside.
We lay down and face each other. He pushes my hair back from my forehead, lets his fingers trail down the curve of my ear before settling on my neck, my pulse thrumming against his palm.
“I’ve been overthinking your Christmas present.” He blinks, like he can’t believe he just said that.
“Why?” I chuckle. “And for how long? I got everyone gifts when I was in Japan.”
I probably shouldn’t tell him everyone else got convenience store snacks.
“I wasn’t sure if we were going to do gifts,” he admits.
“But I did want to get you something. I thought, books, but you already read for class, and I don’t know what all you’ve read.
Then I thought about music, but do people still use CDs?
Jewelry feels like a commitment. I almost bought you pink hair dye. "
“You think I should dye my hair pink?”
He shrugs. “I just know that’s something you want.”
“All those things sound nice.” I scoot closer to him, nesting myself under his neck so now I can hear the thud of his heart. “You don’t have to worry so much about impressing me. You’re very impressive, Christos.”
He rubs the center of my back. He’s so quiet I can barely hear him over his pulse. “I want to match you.” Before I can pry, he says louder now, “We still have dessert.”
“What, like a post sex snack?”
“You say that like it isn’t the greatest idea ever.”
“You’re right.” Despite the greatest idea ever requiring one of us to go downstairs, I wrap my arms around his hips.
“Well, you brought up thigh fucking, so I guess it’s the second greatest idea ever,” he concedes.
Eventually, we make it back downstairs. We set the bowl of fruit between us and take turns feeding it to each other. He sets blueberries on my tongue and sucks kiwi juice off my fingers. Whenever we pause for a kiss, our lips are sticky sweet.
“I think your idea was better than mine,” I say right before he feeds me a strawberry.
“We can both take credit for a good night.” He tosses a chunk of pineapple and catches it in his mouth.
“Right…” I pick up half a grape and start to bring it to his mouth but decide to toss it instead. Again, he catches it with ease. I shake my head. “Such a jock. Were you really stressing over my Christmas present?”
“Not stressed…” He shrugs. “A little anxious, maybe…” He leans back as if relaxing, but there’s a stiffness in his shoulders. “We never established a rule for presents.”
“Why would we need a rule for that?”
He rummages around the remaining fruit. “We’ve got rules for everything else.” He finds a blueberry and pops it into his mouth without any flourish.
Not everything. It’s not like I don’t want to sleep over. The rules are in place so we don’t get caught, but I have an alibi tonight.
“The rules can… change.”
He glances up at me through his eyelashes. I don’t care if this bites me in the ass later.
“I can sleep over tonight.”
His perks up, his ears flapping. “It’s okay if you can’t, I didn’t mean—”
I shove a piece of pineapple in his mouth before covering his lips with my palm.
“I told Terrence I wouldn’t be home till tomorrow anyway.
Plus, I’m jet lagged as fuck and your bed is way nicer than that foam atrocity in my dorm room.
” I release his face. “I can even stay for breakfast, if you want.”
He smiles softly and takes a beat like he’s savoring this little moment. “I’d like that a lot.”
My face is plastered on the front entryway of my dorm.
The posters have a familiar aesthetic of flames, bald eagles, and impact font.
I grab one of the many. I’d recognize my ISU headshot anywhere, even stretched and blown up so my face takes up the entire frame except for the bottom text that reads “the sexual tension between me and six inches of cold hard Steele.”
I hate whoever makes these things. There are probably hundreds across campus, so I don’t bother to tear these ones down.
Lugging my suitcase behind me I take the elevator up to my floor, bracing myself for another round of terrible photoshop.
But The walls are empty and I finally start to relax as I put my key in the doorknob.
The door is unlocked, which is weird. Inside I find Terrence, sitting on his lifted bed, staring. “Oh, hey, figured you’d be doing a workout or something at this hour.”
He says nothing but keeps his eyes on me.
“I got you stuff. Not sure how well it traveled on the flight back.” I open up my suitcase to grab the sour plum chips I stumbled across at the convenience store near the rink.
“You mean your flight yesterday?”
I’m not proud of how easily the lie comes out. “Yeah, red eye, super wiped.”
I go to hand him the chips and see his lips and eyebrows are straight, parallel lines. He doesn’t even glance at the bright bag of chips with a cartoon plumb, despite the character having a shiny, juicy ass. Shit like that always gets Terrence to break.
“Dude. Your fight came in yesterday.”
Still holding out the chips, I try to remember all our texts and calls. In the end I just say what I’m thinking. “I didn’t give you my flight number.”
“No, but you did tell me you were coming in yesterday, not today. I checked our texts. I checked out texts a bunch cause Leroy didn’t want me getting the date wrong for the welcome home rager.”
He hops off the bed and slips his hands into his hoodie pocket. “And I looked at flights coming into Philly. Nothing from the west coast came in till after six AM. Airport is three hours away. But it’s eight in the morning, and you’re standing right here.”
That hoodie is looking more like a trench coat.
At this point, I’m just addicted to lying. “We had a tailwind.”
Terrence approaches me, narrowing his eyes as he studies my face. “I’ve seen you crack open your fourth energy drink right after an all-nighter, you don’t look tired.”
But he does. I know the difference between his post-workout tired and hangover tired, but this isn’t either of those. He’s got bags under his eyes like he hasn’t slept. Or more like he stayed up all night to check flights and see when I would get back to the dorm.
“Look, I’m sorry I got the dates wrong and fucked up the rager.”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “Nah, you don’t fuck up shit like that. Your calendar is legendary.”
“Forgive me if I made a data entry error, I’ve kinda been busy.”
It’s pretty insensitive for him to throw a party in my honor when I can’t even partake.
My instinct is to keep lying. I can tell him I stayed at Maude’s place because I didn’t want to go to the rager.
It’s not like I’m drinking now anyway. Really win the best friend award by throwing some good old manipulation on the fire.
Except I already texted Maude that I made it home safe yesterday. This is ridiculous! Terrence isn’t going to comb through my phone looking for proof I’m lying, he’s not my boyfriend. Just my best friend.
The harsh lines on his face start to weaken. “I don’t get why you’re lying to me.”
“I’m not lying,” I say under my breath. My face scrunches, a wave of exhaustion rolling over me despite getting the best sleep of my life next to Christos. “With everything going on, I messed up. Sorry.”
He purses his lips, looking right through me and for a moment I think he’s going to storm out. Instead, he asks, “You wanna grab breakfast?”
The stomach churns with banana nut oatmeal and coffee from Christos’ kitchen.
“I’m good.”
“Are you?” His brows furrow. “I mean, fuck dude, you didn’t even respond to my texts.”
“Do you know how many people messaged me?”
“Oh what, you think I can’t count that high?”
“Thats—okay, I wasn’t going to make that joke.” I roll my eyes, “But under normal circumstances when I’m not jet lagged, I would. So sorry. Again.”
He mutters, “Whatever,” grabs his backpack and trudges out of the room.
I brace myself for a door slam but it never comes.
He’s being ridiculous—I mean if I wasn’t lying, I could have messed the dates up.
I could have gotten a later flight so I could enjoy Japan a little while longer.
Much better company. Besides, there’s no way he knows for sure that I’m lying.
He hasn’t realized I’m not actually going to the library to study.
I work my ass off! And he’s upset because he had to cancel drinking with his hockey buddies.
Like any of them need an excuse to do that.
I leave the bag of chips on his bed and unpack the rest of my suitcase. Before I head to class I send Christos a message.
TwinkleTop: Miss you already