Chapter 24
NEIL
I wake with heavy-lidded eyes and the warm, syrupy feeling of sleeping long and late.
Luke’s mattress is a dream. I wiggle my fingers poking out from the end of my cast. For the first time since my stupid self-inflicted injury, my arm, lying on its bed of pillows, doesn’t feel too bad.
Nestled in his hoodie, Luke’s still in the same position as when he nodded off after my middle-of-the-night round of painkillers.
All cosied up into my side, with his arm flung around my chest. No wonder I’m warm and comfy.
As is his dick, snuggled hot and hard against my hip. I’ve felt about as horny as a cardboard box the last few nights. This morning, however, cautiously optimistic about my visually impaired future, and knowing this man will be part of it, is a whole different kettle of fish.
I lie still, letting my mind take me in horny directions—coarse, basic ones, admittedly.
I’m a coarse, basic kind of guy. Such as ridding Luke of his sweet gay virginity, right here in this big comfy bed.
Fucking that tight, unused little hole again and again, over every suitable surface in this cosy flat and maybe over some unsuitable ones too, whenever and wherever the urge takes me.
I picture Luke fucking me, showing him the best position to nail my prostate over and over with the long, slim thing currently prodding my thigh.
I don’t know when these fantasies are going to become reality. Our sex life is moving at a snail’s pace—not helped by him buggering off and then me being generally all over the place. But we’ll get there. And anyhow, this sweet little thing we’ve got going? Feels too good to rush.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” I say when he finally stirs.
“Mmpf.” He snuggles even closer. “Do you need me to get your painkillers?”
“No. Arm feels good.”
“Then I don’t want to get up yet.”
I huff a laugh into the top of his covered head. “You don’t have to.” I nudge him with my thigh. “Though this part of you has been up for a while.”
“Mmpf.”
I smile up at the ceiling—a pristine, warm clotted cream, no cracks anywhere—letting him wake up at his own pace.
Bit by bit, beginning with a few dick twitches, he sleepily grinds against me.
The fingers on my chest idly play with my piercing.
I imagine waking up with him like this, minus the plaster cast, every morning. It’s a pretty image.
“Did I dream it,” he asks drowsily, his voice all low and croaky. “Or did you say you had another piercing?” He gives the one at my nipple a little flick. “Have you taken it out?”
“Nope.”
Luke lifts his chin, hazelly-green eyes blinking up at me from inside his hood.
His half-awake sleepy face is ridiculously cute.
Waking up to it every morning would be fucking awesome.
With a slight frown, he brings a hand up to my mouth and runs a finger along my lower lip.
“I think I’d have noticed by now if it’s in your tongue. ”
“It’s not there.” I stick my tongue out and waggle it. “Way off.”
Pursing his lips, his fingers walk over to my ear. “Have I missed one here? You’ve got a stupid amount of hair.”
I can’t tell if he’s fucking with me, feeling playful, or truly this innocent. Regardless, I’m enjoying the game. “Even colder.”
He huffs, his hand brushing over my dragon tattoo and sliding around to the back of my neck.
His hard dick still massages my hip. I don’t think he’s aware he’s even doing it.
“Here? Or on your upper back? Under all this ridiculous hair? I saw a patient recently with a little stud inserted into a flat bit of skin by his shoulder blade.”
“Nope.” I stretch out, every bit of me enjoying the attention. “You’re slightly warmer, though. Keep going.”
His hand moves to my shoulder, whilst his lips move to the barbell decorating my left nipple. He licks across it. “Is it the same as this one?”
“Same design, yes. But smaller.”
Luke shuffles across the bed so he’s mostly lying on top of me.
Seems like our sex life is about to take a welcome leap forward.
He puts his lips to my neck, in a kind of kiss, but it’s also a burying-my-face-because-I’m-not-sure-what-I’m-doing kind of manoeuvre.
I decide to lie still and let whatever’s happening here happen at his pace.
“Definitely not hiding here,” he checks from somewhere near my ear.
“No. You’re still at about the same level of warmness.” I pat his scrumptious arse with my good hand. “Luke warm.”
“Hah!”
He nibbles at my neck and the notch of my collar bone, before his tongue gradually works its way down, stopping at my nipple. He sucks the barbell into his mouth and, oof, my dick happily responds. “You’re heating up nicely.”
Casually, I slip my fingers under the waistband of his boxers and smooth my hand over his rounded arse, staying well away from the part I really want to explore.
He humps my thigh more overtly as he sucks on my nipple.
From his breathing, he’s getting into it.
His cute dick’s enjoying this impromptu game of investigate Neil’s body.
When I think I might show him how two guys frot properly, he shifts his weight to an elbow, and his fingers explore a line from my collarbone to my hip.
“Do I need you to turn over to find it?”
I stifle a laugh. “Not necessarily.” I pillow my head on my cast; it’s surprisingly comfortable. “You could, but I like it this way, watching you turn yourself on.”
The tiniest smile fights its way through the rising red on his skin. He bites on his lip, as if holding an internal debate with himself as to what to do next.
“You might want to take a look lower down,” I murmur, not the most subtle of hints.
“Yeah. I had a feeling you might say that.”
In one move, he straddles my thighs. I can’t see his dick hidden under the hoodie, but mine’s on display; at some point in the night, I kicked everything off. His cool fingers track down to it: engorged, damp, and pointing straight up. The tips of his index and middle finger touch my shaft, poised.
“Much warmer,” I manage with a satisfied groan. “Really fucking warm, rash whisperer.”
He licks his lips once, and then again. Then he shuffles back a bit, eyes glued to my throbbing erection. I hold my breath. Is he…is he…is he going to…? My cock pulses with anticipation.
He laughs nervously. “You know I haven’t got a bloody clue what I’m doing here, don’t you?”
“You’re doing great,” I praise, jerking my chin towards my tall, proud dick. “Can’t you tell?”
He treats me to an anxious smile, then lowers his head, dropping a kiss to my hip bone, my tip, then back to my hip bone.
Featherlight and barely there, I’m scared to move.
I’m pretty sure I stop breathing. Hot little exhalations gust over my belly, flurrying across my wet tip.
Then he kisses my hipbone again. My tip again, my hipbone again.
Can’t lie, it’s a homeopathic approach to giving head, but I’m fucking loving it.
When his teeth graze my thigh, my cock pulses some more.
Then he jerks away.
“Do people get their feet pierced?” His eyes are wide and innocent. “Ankles? Maybe I should check there first.”
Fucker. “Keep exactly where you are.” I rest my hand super lightly on the back of his head. “You’re getting very, very close.”
Obediently, Luke lowers his head again. His mouth slips over the head of my dick, then inches down a little further, all slow and treacly.
Firmly, he grasps the base, as if it’s not already standing up straight all by itself anyhow.
Hollowing his cheeks, he gives the most tender, most sensitive of sucks.
Then again. On the third suck, I inhale deeply and lose myself to the raw sweetness of it.
To the incendiary mix of soft lips, gentle hands, and hot little breaths.
He flicks his tongue over my frenulum. Each time he sinks lower, it’s as if he’s dripping hot wax down my shaft.
It takes every morsel of willpower to avoid thrusting into his mouth like an animal.
When he pulls away for a breather, I think he’s done.
We’ll finish me off with his hand, or maybe mine.
He likes watching me do that. I don’t always come from simply being blown, and lord knows I don’t want to discourage him from his efforts.
I’m about to suggest it, when he says, “Lift your knees.” He gives one a nudge.
“I’m still hunting down that fucking piercing. ”
His mouth lands back on my shaft, licking along the length.
Then back to the tip. He’s wriggled lower down the bed, right between my legs, with his hands on my open thighs.
From this angle, with his face mostly hidden under his pointy hood, he’s fucking cute as hell.
I grunt as his tongue tickles my frenulum again.
So fucking nice. I’m not on the edge of coming or anything, but it’s still wonderful.
Tipping my head back, I close my eyes, giving up on trying to second-guess him.
He’s working out what he likes, what he’s comfortable with, and what I like.
Everything, it turns out, as long as it involves him. He wants to spend what’s left of the morning microdosing giving head? Fine with me. I sigh a happy sigh as his lips trail to my hip, kiss the crease of my groin, then move back to my shaft.
Without warning, they’re down at my balls. “Shit.” Reflexively, I grip his hoodie, and he backs off.
“Too sensitive?”
“No. Too bloody nice.”
He tentatively sucks one into his mouth and holds it there, warming it with his tongue. I moan softly. “Pretty fucking hot, rash whisperer.”
That stuff about me not on the edge? It’s fair to say things are ramping up in that department. If he wraps his palm around me and continues whatever it is he’s doing with my ball and his tongue and his cheek, then—
“You might wanna…”
I’m about to suggest that if he’d like the piercing hunt to end, he might want to trail his fingers a couple of whispers behind where his mouth does some stellar work.
But I’m too busy arching off the bed. He’s found it himself.
His teeth have latched onto my uber-sensitive guiche piercing, hiding just behind my loaded, tightening, and ready-to-fire bollocks.
When his hand closes around my dick and he gives the barbell a little tug—I swear the thing feels directly bolted onto my prostate—I’m fucking done for.
“Coming,” I bite out, as if my sound effects and shudders aren’t clue enough.
The first jet hits my fucking ear, it’s so explosive; the second sprays my chest. Luke catches the third in his hand, and the rest sprays fuck knows where, but it keeps on coming.
Luke joins in, wanking himself above me until he’s all emptied out in a sticky pool on my belly.
I grab his wrist and pull him onto me. “Get here. Kiss me. I need you.”
We kiss breathlessly until I’m softly stroking Luke’s back under his hoodie and recovered enough to make sense.
“You found it then.” I press my lips to the top of his hood.
“Yeah.” He giggles. “Didn’t know it was your on switch.”
“It’s…um…pretty sensitive.”
“I bet.” Luke shudders. “Did it hurt, getting it done?”
“Nah, not really.”
“Liar,” he shoots back, giggling again.
“Totally. My eyes still water now, five years later, just thinking of it. Half a champagne flute sticking out of my arm is nothing in comparison.” I love that unguarded laugh. Knowing I’m the cause tickles my soul. When he giggles like that, and snuggles in like this, I could walk on water.