Chapter 34
Nick
Fuck—that—feels—so—good.”
For the past two weeks, Tristan and I haven’t been able to keep our hands off each other.
When we’re at work, we do a good job of hiding it while the others are around.
After all, we’re friends, nothing more, so it’s not like we have romantic feelings we need to hide.
And then, when we feel that we can responsibly steal time, we disappear into one of our bunk rooms.
We don’t go all the way at work—as in, we don’t have intercourse. The way we want to do it requires too much time, preparation, and (frankly) space than work affords us.
But we’re more than able to sneak a blowjob, or a makeout session, or a moment of fingering.
I will take any scrap of himself Tristan deems me worthy of receiving, but I’m hungry for more. I need more.
I need to fuck him.
I'm pretty damn sure that the need is reciprocated, based on the audible whimper Tristan lets out when my fingers get even close to his pretty little hole.
He needs it just as much as I need him.
It’s one of our days off today. And I have eight peaceful hours while Abbie is at school, where the house is mine completely, where I can have Tristan over.
Currently, he’s pressed against my front door, splayed before me as I suck on his neck.
“So fucking good,” he continues, clawing at my shirt, my hair, me.
“You like that, baby?” I murmur as I catch his skin lightly in my teeth.
He isn’t able to give a coherent answer—just senseless babbling, and that’s a perfect yes.
I distinctly remember the first time I called him baby. It just slipped out, unplanned, unbidden. I watched carefully for his reaction—he either didn’t notice, or didn’t care.
Since then, I’ve been using it. It comes naturally. I don’t mean anything romantic by it. It just feels right.
“Yes, I love it,” he says, practically purring beneath me.
“You think you’re ready for what’s next?” I ask, pushing his head back and kissing his throat. I like this—how willingly he gives up control to me. I would never even think about seizing control if it wasn’t freely and fully given. But like this, it’s a gift.
And it turns me on so fucking much to know that Tristan trusts me with this much control over him.
“Yes,” he begs. “Yes, I’m ready.”
“I don’t know if you are,” I murmur into his neck.
He knows how big my cock is. It strains his beautiful pink mouth, stretching the walls of his throat.
And I know how tight his hole is. That beautiful, sweet pink rosebud is quickly becoming one of my favorite snacks.
“Try me,” he says—and I can hear the smile in his words.
That fucking smile. The way his freckles flash, his eyes squint, his cheeks dimple.
Fuck me.
“Sounds like someone needs to be fucked,” I growl.
“Do I?” his voice is deliciously teasing, baiting me.
“Go to the bedroom and close the door. Wait for me there.”
His eyes sparkle at my stern command—and, fuck, my cock is hard at the playfulness in his expression, the longing, the lust. He wants to be controlled just as much as I want to control him, and he’s so fucking beautifully obedient.
He’s willing to be used, wanting to be the worshipful tool that pleases me. Me.
I can’t believe how fucking lucky I am.