Chapter 13
I’m dangerously close to losing control of this situation. —Noah Hardaway
It’s not my first kiss, of course. But I haven’t had all that many.
I’ve had two relationships with women, neither of which included very strong emotional or physical sparks, and I never worked up the nerve to tell Perry I was interested in them.
Milo’s my first kiss with someone who identifies as a man, so I guess that’s some kind of first kiss, right?
And as first kisses go, this one is pretty epic. We’re already searching each other, lips and tongues tangled and hands moving against skin and shirts, and time is either speeding up or slowing down; I can’t tell which. Milo tries to pull away, just for a moment.
“Noah,” he says. “We shouldn’t do this. We can’t do this. You have a head injury, dammit. You need rest, and—”
I grab for the collar of his t-shirt. “I feel fine, Alpha,” I whisper.
His eyes darken slightly, and I know I’ve got him back. That’s the moment when I feel Milo dive headlong into this with me.
Thank goodness. There’s no way I could have stopped kissing him right now even if I tried.
He feels too good, too glorious. His lips are slightly chapped and taste of honey granola bars and coffee, and they’re hitting every nerve just right as they move against my mouth. His hands are lotion soft as they strum against the bottom of my stomach, pushing just slightly at the t-shirt there.
The low-grade headache I had earlier is completely silent now, overwhelmed by dopamine or whatever other feel-good chemical is coursing through my body. Oxytocin? I know I learned this in a class once. I’ll ask Milo sometime. But not now.
Right now, all I want to do is keep kissing him.
A flame is spreading inside me, one I’ve been pouring water on since the day he stood up for me outside that elevator.
I push him onto his back and layer myself on top of him, just to get a few millimeters closer.
He pulls me tightly against his chest, and now I can feel Dr. Milo Warner’s hard cock against my torso. And I can feel just how huge it is.
I have to fight the knee-jerk instinctual reaction to pull away from him. Not because I’m afraid of what’s under those jeans of his. No, I’m definitely not afraid—in fact, all I want to do right now is kiss him while he gets rid of his pants so I can see everything that’s underneath them.
But if we do that, at some point he’s going to want me to slip down my own sweatpants, right? And then he’s going to see what I have underneath all these clothes and silly t-shirts that I armor up around my body.
I’m not a big, muscled athlete like Milo.
My body type is one of the reasons I’ve never gotten into sports like soccer and baseball, even when every other kid in Pottsville was playing them.
It’s one of the reasons why I got so into Pilates in college.
Genetics are a wild thing, a doctor told me once when I complained that I could never lose the fat around my middle or get a six-pack no matter how many weights I tried to lift or how many protein shakes I drank.
And genes, I guess, are the reason I’m a little bit smaller down there.
I mean, I know there are dicks smaller than mine.
I know this because the first time I ever had to take off my underwear in a high school locker room, I realized just how much variance there is in the way things can look down there.
So I started doing some research. I can recite all kinds of statistics on average penis length, flaccid and erect, plus plenty of other stats Ezra would no doubt be horrified to find in my browsing history.
All of which is to say, I’m below the average penis size, both flaccid and erect. The first girl who ever saw my junk was the girlfriend I had during my freshman year of college, and her reaction wasn’t exactly encouraging.
“Look at it!” she said. “It’s just so cute!”
That same girlfriend was the one who went on to tell me that my personality was too co-dependent and she needed a more “powerful” boyfriend.
Ever since then, I’ve made it a point to keep the lights off during my sexual encounters.
Not that there have been very many of them.
Nobody’s seen what I’m packing since my “it’s so cute” girlfriend.
And now that cock I never, ever show to anyone is just inches away from the clearly very, very giant cock of Milo Warner’s.
“Noah,” Milo whispers. “Shouldn’t be doing this.” Then he flips me over on the bed and straddles my body while he continues to explore my mouth with his, moving his hips back and forth against mine. “You’re so much younger than me. And our parents. And…”
The rest of his sentence is lost as he buries his tongue in my mouth and one of his hands slips lower to cover my crotch. I arch up into him, totally lost to the feeling of his hand against my body.
I’m dangerously close to losing control of this situation. So I make a decision about what to do next, and then I go for it.
I pull my lips away from Milo’s with a smack, slide down the bed below his body, undo his jeans, and tug his cock out through the hole in his boxers before I take him into my mouth.
Milo lets out a loud gasp.
It’s the first time I’ve ever had my mouth on another man’s cock before, but maybe I wasn’t a straight man in all my past lives, because it somehow feels like the eighth or tenth time I’ve done this.
I know right away what to try and what not to try, and I must be doing something right, because Milo’s making all kinds of different noises as I test out various movements.
I lick around the head of his dick, sliding my tongue back and forth across it, and then I pop my mouth off the tip and drag my tongue all the way down his length until I hit the cloth of his underwear.
The sensation of fiber against my tongue makes this all feel even more clandestine, somehow, another reminder that what we’re doing here in this bed is something we’ve both agreed we should not be doing.
Then I take him deep inside my mouth, as far as I can, until my gag reflex starts to argue and I have to pull back.
I let my lips circle the middle of his cock while my tongue goes back to playing, circling and teasing, and I’m so hard in the sweatpants I’m wearing I feel like I might explode.
“That’s right, Noah,” Milo whispers. He takes hold of my head, right between his strong hands. “Like you belong to me,” he murmurs.
Those words should maybe hit me a little harder than they do, but somehow they slot themselves perfectly into this moment.
Maybe because I’ve felt like the omega wolf to Milo’s alpha wolf, or whatever the metaphor should be, ever since he first stood in front of me next to that elevator.
“Yes,” I murmur around his cock. “I belong to you, Milo Warner.”
He arches up into me. “Fuck, Noah.” The words sound like more of a hiss. “I’m not going to last.”
I know what he’s doing: he’s telling me to let go, to pull away from him. But I stay right where I am. I know one thing right now.
I want Milo Warner to be the first man I ever taste like this.
I thrust my hand down past the elastic waistband of my pants and underwear so I can take hold of my own cock.
The friction of my dry hand against the skin there hurts at first, but I lean into the slight discomfort, savoring it as Milo thrusts up into my mouth.
And yeah, I was right. He’s huge, absolutely enormous, taking up so much space across my tongue that suddenly all I can think about is what it would be like to have Milo Warner inside me in another way.
He wouldn’t fit, would he? He’s so thick, so long…
an image flashes through my mind, of Milo bent over my body, his cock poised at the entrance only I’ve ever touched before.
And that’s when I come all over my hand, crying out and writhing, just as Milo lets out a little shout and lets go in my mouth.
For a long moment, we both just lie there, Milo softening slightly inside me while I stay in place, boneless. Then he slides out of my mouth and pulls me up into his arms, cradling me against him.
I’m not sure exactly what to expect from Milo or myself at this moment, but I do know that right now every single cell in my body feels settled.
Calm. I duck down under Milo’s chin, letting him hold me against his large chest, and I allow the entirety of my body to relax against his while he sits up slightly against the bed’s soft headboard.
We’re both quiet for a long time. I’m the one to speak first.
“Um, whoops?” I finally whisper into the silent room.
He lets out a burst of laughter. “I’ll get that for you on a t-shirt.
” He sighs and presses a kiss against the top of my head.
I burrow harder against him, and Milo holds onto me tightly.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers, and all the muscles in my body tighten together as one.
“But I don’t regret a damn thing,” he adds softly, and just like that, every single one of my muscles releases again.
He sighs and sinks back down toward the bed, taking me with him until we’re lying together.
I think what we’re doing is called spooning?
He’s holding me with my back against his chest, his arms around me.
There’s a giant mess in my pants, and I can’t be bothered to care about it as he kisses my neck, my cheek, and then my ear.
I shiver against the softness of the movement.
“Chucks, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” Milo whispers. It’s the last thing he says before we both fall asleep.