18. Lolly #2
I rest my forehead against his, letting him guide my next move.
Those eyes meet mine again, shining with uncertainty.
And then his mouth finds mine. Hesitant hands rest on my hips, gently pulling me toward him.
His lips are soft, so fucking sweet that I can’t imagine ever not kissing him. Would I even survive?
I fist his hair in my hands and draw him closer.
Kissing him is like touching something forbidden. It’s intoxicating. I can’t decide if this is the best or worst decision of my life but it feels so fucking good.
I can’t stop.
I don’t want to.
A soft moan comes from somewhere in his throat and I have to force myself not to get carried away in its current. Fuck.
I reluctantly pull back and can’t help but stare at his lips, parted and swollen from our kiss. He’s everything.
“It’s time. We can’t have you tumbling down the mountainside before I get a chance to take you to a Broadway show.”
He smiles at that and then takes my hand as I guide him back down.
He lets me open his door this time, blushing as he takes his seat. I laugh as I finish loading up the car. We head toward his dorm, an old Deftones song perfect for the drive plays as the sun says goodnight.
I make it about sixty seconds before I grab his hand, interlocking our fingers, forearms resting on his thigh. His hand fits so perfectly in mine. There’s no awkward stretch of my fingers because his are too wide, and it’s not too dainty either. It’s just… perfect.
I allow his touch, the music, and the skyline to speak, keeping my thoughts to myself just a little longer.
I’m going to walk him to his door, but will he let me in again? Is he ready? Maybe this is as much as he’s able to give me and I’ll be driving home mad at myself for pining after someone who isn’t available.
I decide to let the fates take this one, do with it what they may. I’ll just enjoy the ride.
I set his hand free as I get out and head to his door, smiling when he lets me open it again. Good boy, I think to myself.
He glances up at me quickly, a sweet smile on his face, before he heads toward the entrance. I follow behind him, confident in my decision to escort him upstairs.
He doesn’t argue as I traipse up the stairs, one step behind him, careful not to fall as I’m distracted by his ass in my face. I have the sudden urge to sink my teeth into it. Shit.
The hallway is empty but neither of us speak as we make our way to his door. I stand sentry as he fumbles with his keys again. He’s clumsy when he’s nervous. I find it endearing. He’s probably mortified and hoping I haven’t noticed.
When he finally gets the door open he steps inside and then hesitates. He turns to face me, but his eyes are on the floor.
I cross my arms, standing in place and waiting for my cue. What will it be, green eyes?
“You—um, you can come in,” he says shyly. “I mean, if you want to.”
I take two purposeful steps, close the door behind me—and take what I want.
My lips are on his in a heartbeat, his warm back against my palms. Skin so fucking soft I can’t help but touch every silken inch of it. My breath catches as I trail my fingers across his obliques, caressing that perfect V.
“Damnit, you feel so fucking good,” I groan against his mouth. “I don’t know how to stop.”
He laughs between our kisses. His hands are on my back, his skin scorching against my own. He moans and thrusts against me.
I feel my control slipping.
I pull back, grab his chin and force him to look at me with those lust-filled eyes. Half-lidded and wanting, lips parted and so fucking tempting—but I wait. “You’re going to have to tell me to stop.”
He nods in understanding.
“I mean it, Bailey, I’m getting lost in you, and I need you to promise you’ll tell me to stop if I do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
“I promise,” he breathes.
Before I can say anything more, he’s crushing his lips to mine, plunging his tongue into my mouth like I’m the very air he needs to breathe. We’re nothing but hands and clashing teeth. I growl, grabbing palms full of his perfect ass and pulling him to me, moaning as his dick grinds against me.
He pulls my bottom lip between his teeth and my dick twitches in my jeans, begging for more. Begging for him.
“Take my shirt off,” he breathes. “Please.”
I kiss him again. Pulling back just long enough to pull his shirt over his head before I’m delving back into the warmth of his mouth. I reach back with one hand and fist the back of my shirt and break our kiss once more to yank my own off.
His skin on mine sets my fucking soul on fire.
The high-pitched whimpers that come from his lips have me grappling for what’s left of my sanity. My feet barely on the ground, head buzzing with nothing but the taste, the sounds, the smell of him.
Tongues.
Hands.
We fight for dominance, a fevered dance I never want to end. Oil and water and fire and ice and he is going to be the death of me.
I’d do it.
I’d die for this.
For more.
My hips pin him to the wall and I relish the thought of me being the driving force behind his pleasure.
I bring two fingers to his lips. He stares at them, bewildered but attentive.
“Suck.” I say.
He obeys, closing his mouth around my fingers, his warm tongue swirling around them as his eyes fall shut. When he moans, I feel it through my fingers. “Fuck, that’s so good,” I groan.
“Green eyes, I need you to take your pants off.”
He does as he’s told, never once stopping the pulls on my fingers.
“Good boy.”
He moans, eyes rolling back in his head.
“Now mine,” I demand, as I push my fingers to the back of his throat, putting pressure on his tongue.
He obeys, head falling back against the wall.
He gags and his eyes water.
He’s beautiful this way.
I pull my fingers from his lips, a quiet laugh slips at the look of loss that crosses his face. I smear his spit along his length, then shift closer until our cocks are perfectly aligned. I wrap my hand around both of them and then claim his mouth once more.
“Oh fuck. Oh god, Oliver. Please don’t stop.”
I moan. His begging is going to be my undoing.
Our dicks are slick with a mixture of his spit and our precum and it feels so fucking good I’m not sure I’ll last.
“Fuck, Oliver— I’m gonna-–”
I don’t let him finish his sentence. I show him instead.
I show him with my lips that he’s safe with me. Show him with every touch that his pleasure is protected. That I’m right there on the edge with him, ready to fall. His thrusts meet my strokes in perfect rhythm.
It’s perfect.
He’s perfect.
I’m teetering on the edge and I want to take him with me.
“You gonna come for me?” I ask, voice low.
“Y-Yes.” His eyes are barely open now, lips parted as he catches his breath. His hips never miss a single downward pull of my hand, his cock against mine taking me somewhere I’ve never been. I am nothing but this moment. Nowhere but with him.
“Fuck yes, you feel so good, pretty boy.”
He moans in response, no longer moving to meet the stroke of my hand on our lengths.
He looks incredible. Eyes cloudy with lust, lips parted, panting breaths hot on my face as I watch in awe.
“Come for me, green eyes,” I command.
His grip on my back tightens until there’s barely enough space between us for me to move my hand. He throws his head back against the wall and hisses, “I’m gonna—.”
He pulsates in my grip as jets of hot cum erupt from him. I watch in absolute wonder, the pale pink of his tip against mine is a goddamn masterpiece. His dick throbs again and I fucking fly over the edge, following him like he holds the key to every unanswered question.
I erupt, spilling over both of us.
“Fuck,” I manage to say as I slowly wring out the last of our pleasure.
His eyes are barely open, head still tipped back against the wall, lips parted, breaths uneven.
He looks well fucked and absolutely beautiful—cheeks flushed, lips swollen, hair tussled. So damn pretty.
I slowly pull my pants back up, not breaking his searing gaze.
He watches me with quiet certainty.
I can’t help but smile, “You need a hand?” I ask.
“Maybe.”
“Just keep leaning against the wall, baby boy, I’ve got you.”
“Thanks,” he laughs.
I grab a hand towel and gently wipe him down before I clean myself off before carefully pulling his pants back on.
He’s still leaning against the wall, his eyes following every step.
I stand before him, wishing I knew him well enough to know what was happening behind those eyes.
Wishing he was mine.
He licks his lips and I can’t help but gaze down at them, still red and swollen. Delicious.
I meet his gaze and feel his thoughts all around me. Bouncing everywhere but never landing. Loud, but incomprehensible.
“Where are you?” I ask.
His lips twitch at the corners, a small smile growing across his face. “Right here.”
“Good,” I say, putting my hands back in my pockets.
His smile widens.
I take a step closer, questioning. Trying to memorize his face while I decipher where he wants to go from here.
“Do you, um,” he says, glancing down before back up at me. “Do you want to stay for a while?”
He swallows thickly and I’m again watching that beautiful throat, picturing those lips wrapped around me. Those beautiful eyes leaking tears down his pretty cheeks.
“Of course I do,” I reply, leaning in so close our lips are almost touching.
“Okay,” he whispers.
I don’t move, I let him decide. Breaths intertwine with each exhale, a silent exchange. A simple understanding.
I smile, pulling away, “Come on, I want you to introduce me to your fish.”
He laughs. A loud, warm laugh that strikes me in the center of my chest. Warm, and uninhibited.