32. Nolan
NOLAN
I wake with Ben’s knee between mine and his arm heavy across my stomach.
The bedroom is warm and smells like beer, sweat, and the clothes beside the bed.
Gray light gets around the blinds and catches Ben’s hand against my skin.
His fingers are curled under the waistband of my boxer briefs, although I’m pretty sure he fell asleep that way instead of putting them there on purpose.
I stay still and listen to him breathe against the back of my neck.
The condo outside my room is quiet. Somebody turned the music off before we came to bed, but I don’t know who left or who passed out on a couch. None of them are making enough noise to matter.
Ben shifts behind me. His arm tightens, pulling me back against his chest before he wakes enough to know he’s doing it.
I smile into the pillow as his mouth brushes the back of my shoulder. The kiss misses by enough that it might be an accident, then he does it again, slower.
“Morning,” he says against my skin.
His voice is rough with sleep. I roll onto my back. His hair has been flattened across his forehead, and Ben looks like hell.
“Hi.”
Ben opens one eye. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You look pretty.”
“Fuck off.” His hand slides fully into my underwear and settles over my hip. He doesn’t seem offended enough to let go.
I touch the crease on his cheek with one finger. “Very delicate.”
He catches my hand and bites the tip of my finger. I push it farther into his mouth to be annoying, and his eyes open all the way.
The first bang on the bedroom door makes both of us jump.
Ben pulls the sheet up to his chest. He has one fist tucked beneath his chin, covering himself like a wilting maiden in a very stupid painting, though he makes no attempt to get out of my bed or remove his hand from my underwear.
“Dude,” Bobby says through the door. “Where’s the Monster?”
Ben stares at me, and I stare right back.
“Go to your own fucking condo,” he shouts. “Why are you still here?”
“I slept here,” Bobby says, as if Ben is the stupid one.
“That doesn’t answer the question.” Ben’s fist tightens in the sheet.
“You guys have six kinds of juice and no Monster.”
“Get out, Bobby.”
Bobby stomps down the hall. Two kitchen cabinets bang open before the front door finally slams hard enough to shake the wall.
Ben still has the sheet clutched to his chest. We glare at each other until his mouth starts to twitch.
“Do you think there are any more stragglers?” I ask.
“I hope not.”
He drops the sheet and kisses me.
His eyes stay half shut while his mouth works slowly over mine and his palm moves from my hip to my stomach. I slide my fingers into his hair as he rolls me deeper into the middle of the bed.
We have nowhere to be yet. Nobody outside this room needs an explanation, and if Bobby comes back because he forgot his phone, Ben can yell at him again.
The kiss gets wetter. Ben’s tongue slides over mine as his thigh settles between my legs, putting pressure against my cock. I was half hard when I woke up. One slow shift of his hips takes care of the rest.
I catch his lower lip between my teeth.
Ben grunts and drives his thigh higher. My boxer briefs have twisted around me, dragging over the head as I rock against him and kiss his jaw.
“You’re still wearing these,” he says.
“You were in a hurry last night.”
“You took off everything else.”
I slide my hand under the sheet and find his bare ass. “You weren’t complaining.”
Ben’s mouth comes back to mine before I can say anything else. He kisses me harder, swallowing my laugh while he hooks his fingers into my waistband and pulls. I lift my hips. The underwear catches under my ass, and Ben yanks until I kick them free at the bottom of the bed.
He wraps his fingers around my cock. The first stroke pulls a groan out of me, and my hips follow his warm, tight grip. I grab him in return and feel him twitch against my hand.
Ben is already hard. I run my thumb under the head and collect the moisture there, spreading it down until my fist moves easier. He sucks in a breath against my mouth.
I give him a slow stroke and kiss the corner of his mouth. His grip tightens. “Don’t slow down.”
I kiss him and stroke faster as he rolls onto his side. The sheet pools around our thighs while we work each other in the narrow space between us, foreheads touching. I feel every rough breath and the jerk of his hips each time my fist reaches the head.
He knows my body too well now to waste time guessing. His thumb presses exactly where I like it, dragging over the underside before his palm twists down. My stomach pulls tight. I ease my fist around his cock until Ben’s eyes open.
They’re dark and still a little heavy with sleep. He watches me while I stroke him, his mouth parted and his face close enough that our noses bump when his hips push forward. He lets me see the pleasure hit and gives me another hard pulse against my palm.
Ben shifts his grip lower on my cock and rolls me onto my back.
He moves down before I can complain, catching one nipple with his teeth while his fist keeps sliding slowly over my cock.
I arch under the bite and grab his shoulder.
He sucks until the sensation turns sharp, then lets go and licks the sore spot.
His lips keep going over the ink crossing my ribs to the smaller piece low on my stomach. Ben lets me watch his head move closer to my cock, then stops to press his tongue somewhere else.
I push my heel against the mattress. “Ben.”
He lifts his mouth from my hip and waits.
Asshole.
His thumb rubs under the head again. My cock jumps toward his mouth, and he smiles against my skin.
“Suck me,” I say.
Ben closes his lips over the head and sucks hard. The sudden pressure lifts my hips, but he puts a hand beneath one thigh and pushes my leg toward my chest until my ass stays against the bed.
He keeps most of my cock out of his mouth, working the wet tip with his tongue while his fist handles the rest. Every time I try to press deeper, he eases back and makes me follow.
“Ben.” My fingers tighten in his hair. “Deeper.”
Ben looks up and takes another inch, then another, the tight ring of his lips dragging down until the head meets the back of his tongue. My other leg opens without him asking. He catches that thigh too and settles between them.
He pulls off far enough to breathe. His mouth shines when he says, “Give it to me.”
I push into him slowly. Ben’s tongue stays flattened under my cock while I slide in, and his fingers dig into the backs of my thighs. He controls how far I go by drawing me closer or holding me away, then pulls me in until his breath catches around my cock.
The pressure nearly empties my head. I keep the next movement shallow, then give him more when he pulls at my legs. Ben takes it with a rough sound that travels through my cock and tightens everything below my stomach.
I could keep fucking his mouth until I come, but I want his cock on my tongue and his hips moving because he can’t hold still.
I tug his hair. “Come here.”
Ben ignores me. He slides his mouth down until my cock presses into his throat and holds me there, both hands clamped behind my thighs.
If he keeps that up, I’ll come before I get my mouth on him.
I catch his shoulders and pull until he releases me. “Ben.”
He crawls over me, mouth wet and eyes bright. “What?”
I catch his wet jaw and pull him into a kiss. The taste of my own skin is all over his tongue. Ben settles between my legs, his hard cock dragging along mine while I kiss him until he’s breathing through his nose and trying to grind closer.
I turn us over and put Ben on his back. He reaches for my shoulder as I move down. “Nolan.”
“What?” I lick across the slit before he answers, and his fingers curl against my skin.
Ben’s hips jerk. I hold the base and run my tongue down one side, following the raised vein before bringing my mouth back to the wet head. He tastes warm and salty, with more precome gathering every time I draw back.
His head presses into the pillow, throat exposed and chest rising too fast. Ben keeps one hand on my shoulder. The other reaches for my hair when I suck the tip and twist my fist below my mouth.
“Stop fucking around,” he says.
I take him halfway. The pull of my lips meets the stroke of my hand, keeping pressure on every inch even when I lift my head. Ben’s stomach jumps beneath my forearm. His hand tightens in my hair, but he lets me decide how much he gets.
I slow at the head and hold his stare while my tongue circles beneath the rim. Ben tries to thrust. I push his hip down and keep working him with short, wet pulls until his thigh starts to shake beside me.
“Nolan.”
This time my name is a warning. His balls have pulled tight beneath my hand, and his cock pulses against my tongue.
I draw him into my mouth once more, then stop with the head resting on my tongue.
Ben makes an angry sound and tries to pull me back with the hand in my hair.
“Hold it.” I let him go before he can argue.
I crawl up his body, dragging my cock over his thigh. His hands catch my waist and pull until I’m stretched on top of him. Our mouths meet hard. Ben can taste himself when my tongue pushes into his mouth, and the groan he gives me turns my whole body hot.
Our cocks press together between us. The contact is slick but not enough. I reach toward the bedside drawer without giving up his mouth.
Ben gets there first. He finds the lube by touch and pushes it into my hand.
I pour some into my palm and slick Ben’s cock first. He thrusts through my hand while I coat him, then catches my wrist and turns it toward me. I rub what’s left over my own cock.
Ben pulls me down for another kiss. I roll onto my side and take him with me, hooking one leg over his hip until our lower bodies fit together. His cock slides hot along mine when I rock forward.
The first pass is too slick. The heads slip apart and drag over our stomachs. Ben catches the back of my thigh and pulls my leg higher, changing the angle until our shafts press together from base to tip.