Chapter 14 #2
I tear at Neil’s jeans until his sexy-as-fuck scrap of a jock bunches around his thighs.
I thought our date was done last night, but here we are, in the middle of my sitting room in broad daylight.
Last night was merely foreplay. The main event is here and now, my palm curled awkwardly—paralysed—around Neil’s thick, damp length.
“Just do it how you like it yourself,” he whispers, licking into my mouth. “Up and down tends to work well as a starting point.”
He spreads his legs wider, his hand showing me the way.
Both of us drop our heads, drinking in his hand around mine and mine around him.
Neil’s big. And there. And leaking. Working the length of him like this together, the heat of him swelling under my palm is easily the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen and felt.
“Just like that, rash whisperer,” he gasps, letting go. “Like that is perfect.”
Thrusting into the channel of my fist, he bites hard kisses against my neck and mouth. My wrist aches; my own cock throbs and throbs. Neil’s chest heaves against mine, breath catching on the way out. There’s an unpolished roughness to it, a private, unguarded sound; I could come from that alone.
Each exhale brushes against my cheek. Neil’s head falls forward; his teeth bite into my shoulder. He’s panting harder, hips bucking. “I’m close.”
Damp heat seeps into my palm. As I work him faster, Neil’s abs clench, both of us hovering right on the edge of control. His legs tense, he moans against the skin of my neck, I feel him shudder. And then he comes with a final husky, satisfied grunt, quietly flooding my hand.
Before I’ve even processed I’ve made this happen and—against the odds—not ejaculated into my underwear, he gracefully sinks to his knees.
“Is this allowed?” He rubs his flushed cheek against the denim covering my cock.
His lips are wet and glossy from kissing, his stupidly pretty eyes glazed with want.
“Yeah, but I…fuck...I’m nearly there too.”
The zzzip sound as he unfastens my jeans sparks like a fuse. Time turning molten, he pushes down my boxers and takes me in hand.
“Very pretty.”
His voice is thick, vibrating through me. My slit’s dribbling, my balls ready to detonate. I’m aching for it; I don’t think I’ve been so swollen and hard. I dig my nails into my palms sticky with his cum and squeeze my eyes shut; if I look down now, I’ll hose.
Neil guides me to his mouth, lays me against the flat of his tongue.
It’s an exquisite torment, almost as agonising as when he licks around the head and savours the shaft.
He's slow and deliberate, as if he actually fucking loves it.
For an eternity, he flicks his tongue and sucks on my tip, kissing and tasting me, in a way I never believed would feel so good.
And then, without warning, he takes me so far down his throat even I nearly gag. My hand grabs for his hair; the way my legs shake, I’ll fall over if I don’t seize hold of something. An insane, uncontrollable trembling starts up in my left thigh as the wet heat of his mouth caresses my dick.
“I want to come in your mouth,” I pant. Big talk for someone who has never received a blowjob in his entire life.
Neil’s teeth graze along my shaft, adding their own delicious torture. He pulls off long enough to pant, “Do it,” before swallowing me down again.
With two more sucks, I come in a hazed, mad rush.
Whoever coined this feeling ‘a little death’ has clearly never had a blowjob from Neil.
I pulse so hard my head goes dark. My whole body wants to twist itself inside out and pour itself down his throat.
Maybe it’s a big death—maybe this is it, I’m abandoning consciousness.
When I’m alive enough to open my eyes and look down, Neil’s wiping the last smear of my cum from his wet lower lip. He gazes up at me. From this angle, his beautiful brown eyes, crinkling at the corners, hold all the stars. If I do leave this world in the next breath, then I’ve already won.
“Who needs coffee in the mornings, rash whisperer, when I can drink you down?”
“If I have caffeine now, my heart will stop,” I rasp hoarsely. “I think I need to sit.”
“You started it, not me.” Instantly, Neil’s up on his feet, urging me to the sofa, whereupon I collapse in a heap, willing my Elvis leg to subside.
“Can it be put on record,” he continues, rubbing my jumpy thigh, “that I was all for sweet sensitive kisses and puppy dogs and pink roses?”
He presses his lips to my cheek, then checks his phone. “You make the most wonderful sound when you come, by the way.”
He imitates it, the smug bastard. All I can say is I hope he’s prone to exaggeration.
“If you keep that up, you’ll never hear it again.”
He makes a zipping motion across his lips. “Okay, but it’s been added to my mental Spotify playlist. Sing something for me, and I’ll add that too.” I understand why he’s joking about singing and recording silly sounds; he knows how enormous a deal this is for me and is diffusing it.
“No.”
Am I embarrassed how easily he took me apart?
That I’m collapsed here with my limp dick hanging out?
Yep, but for once, I don’t care. Actually, it’s better.
My anxiety doesn’t give a fuck. And nor does Neil.
His jock is still around his thighs, like it’s a perfectly normal way to be after spontaneous mid-morning making out. And I guess it is, just not for me.
“Just one line,” he coaxes, “One of Ez’s songs.”
“No way,” I say, grateful. “My singing voice lies somewhere between a drunken apology and a plumbing problem.”
We arrive at the pub ten minutes late. Isaac’s electric Golf and Gerald’s pristine Corsa are there already, parked side by side. “You know they’re going to think we’re together if we arrive together.”
“They are.” Neil’s not the slightest perturbed.
“And your face has a Sunday morning fuck flush not even this icy, foul weather can account for.” He makes a mock, hard-done-by sigh.
“So, I’ll have to explain all over again all I wanted was to go on a cinema date, maybe end it with a little peck on the cheek, but my date insisted on coming back to my place, he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and before I knew it, I was pinned at his mercy against a wall and ravaged. Ravaged, I was.”
He says nothing of the sort. But it’s fair to say we do make an entrance. Is there a collective noun for a group of raised eyebrows? A suspicion? An arch? Anyhow, I count four pairs.
“Look who I ran into out in the carpark,” Neil announces by way of greeting. It would be almost believable if my face wasn’t red as a beetroot, and he didn’t sling his arm around my shoulders. “Grab me a seat while I go to the bar, Doc. I’ll get us both a beer.”
Naturally, Alaric spots the love bite on my neck within seconds of me sitting down.
After a wordless conversation with Gerald, who obediently shuffles across, he wiggles himself into the seat to my right.
Neil’s already firmly reserved the one on my left, which leaves Isaac opposite, staring at the same part of my anatomy.
Ez, thank fuck, has already leaped up to join Neil at the bar.
“You know what they say about small bruises, Doc.” Alaric’s blue eyes twinkle.
“Big stories,” Isaac finishes. “Juicy stories. Badly hidden stories. Sexy stories.”
“Fucked rigid into the mattress by a very hot and perennially horny man stories,” Alaric adds, just in case I haven’t got the message. His lips quirk. “I’d say I recognise the shape of the mouth that put it there, except, darling, I’m going to enjoy making you say it in your own words.”
Fighting the urge to cover the bruise with my hand, I fondle my wristband instead. It’s been neglected in the last twenty-four hours. Over at the bar, I have a feeling Neil is being subjected to a similar inquisition.
“Just helping him with another spreadsheet?” Isaac teases. “Was he chewing the end of his pen and his mouth slipped?”
“Neil invited me to the cinema, that’s all.” I throw them both a firm look, useless when they’re ogling the evidence of more.
“And afterwards he fucked you rigid into the mattress.”
“No.” I glare at them both. “Afterwards, he kissed me. And I stayed over because he lives closer to the cinema and the weather was shite. Neil made me some breakfast this morning. That’s all. Not that it is any of your business.”
Okay, so not quite all. But that insane blowjob isn’t for sharing. Not now, not ever.
“Are we talking the same Neil? Neil-I’ve-bedded-more-men-than-a-Travelodge-Sainsbury? That Neil?”
“He’s not like that at all, actually.”
Alaric snorts. “Just because he behaved like a gentleman the first night doesn’t mean he won’t fuck you like a savage next time, given half the chance. Our Neil is very well-balanced.”
Fortunately, the gentleman currently being maligned rescues me. “All good?” He treats Alaric to a look far firmer than I managed. One that simultaneously says leave my man alone, but yes, I’d like to fuck him into the mattress, and also tags on an I’ve got this, Luke. It’s impressive.
“Fine.”
“We’ve ordered already.” Taking the hint, Alaric pushes the menus over. “The specials are on the back. Choose quickly and I’ll go to the bar and add it on.”
Not especially hungry after our big breakfast, I scan the menu. “I’ll have the Caesar salad,” I tell no one in particular.
Next to me, Neil turns the menu over, hesitates, then turns it back again before holding it farther away from him.
All red brick walls and brasses, we’re in a typical olde worlde pub.
They’re not renowned for their bright overhead lighting and big font menus.
The font on this one’s loopy swirls. Alaric is already up out of his chair, waiting.