CHAPTER NINETEEN NICK
CHAPTER NINETEEN
NICK
Jet lag is a bitch. Holy shit.
I thought the twenty-hour trip over here would have been worse, but no. Waking up at three in the morning after too few hours of interrupted sleep takes the damn cake. Before today, I never knew I could feel tired and wide awake at the same time.
Speaking of cake, mine is pressed firmly into Dean’s sleepy hard-on. Because we’re spooning. Of course we are.
And we’re horny. Of course we are.
If anything, we can pretend this is just physical given how often we joke about it, but for me, again, I can only be physical because I know him.
And after knowing him for a couple of months, he’s a good fucking friend.
In all meanings of the word. So maybe I have to enjoy it while I can.
Who knows the next time someone is gonna be as patient as he was for me to warm up to him, and—oh god, the idea of doing this with someone else makes my chest physically hurt.
Jesus Christ, I don’t even want to think about how different Dean has been from other guys.
I need a distraction, as usual. How often I need those doesn’t exactly bode well for my well-being, but it isn’t like those are limited, not with how accessible Dean and I make ourselves to each other.
Holding my breath, I ignore the implications of that last part and arch my back slowly, sticking my butt harder into him.
If he wakes up, I can pretend I was just moving around in my sleep. If he’s already awake—
He moans, all deep and sultry.
Perfect.
I roll around to face his warm, solid body. “You awake?” I whisper.
“Yeah.”
The mumbled reply into my neck is all I need, and I stick a hand down and drag a slow line up Dean's morning wood, smiling into his neck when he lets out a labored sigh.
“Want more?” I ask.
“Nick.” The way he says my name, all tired and gravelly, makes my core heat up. “What time is it?”
I give him a squeeze, and he presses forward into my touch. “Cum time.”
Snorting, he lifts the waistband of his loose, silky sleep pants over my hand, and I curl around his cock, stroking him slowly. “But seriously, what time is it?”
“Too early for anyone else to be awake.” It’s dark, so he can’t see me, but I smile anyway as I thumb a drop of wetness around under his dickhead and bring him to full mast.
He pulls away, and I’m about to protest when I realize he’s just turning a fan on and grabbing a drink of water. “What did I say about having sex here?”
Wait—he’s still trying to stick to that rule? That only means I have to be a little more convincing.
“That you don’t want your parents to hear, and they won’t.” Then I climb on top of Dean’s tired body to kiss him, and his greedy hands go right to my biceps.
I flex. “Have I convinced you yet?”
“Maybe.” His fingers travel along my arms and onto my chest. “It's dark, so I need to remember what your body looks like.”
Oh? I nudge his arms aside and lower myself onto his body, making sure he can feel my pecs on his.
Thank god we’ve both taken to sleeping shirtless with each other. Waking up skin on skin? Fuck, it's unmatched.
He huffs out a quiet curse, which goes right to my balls.
Call me self-centered, but knowing I can shut Dean's brain off simply by existing is a bigger turn-on than I thought.
Barely a month ago, I didn't want anyone else to be attracted to me like this.
Now that I can give his energy right back, I can't get enough.
Mostly because Dean is… I don't know how China grades meat, but I'm sure there's a way to say tender, juicy prime cut.
“This good enough?” I ask, biting at his jaw. He taught me that move pretty early on, and I've stolen it for my own nefarious purposes.
His fingernails dig into my back, telling me how desperate he’s getting. “I think so.”
“You are so quick to fold,” I tease, taking position above his crotch, easing the waistband over his tenting erection with one hand while grabbing my own water bottle with the other. “You want some head?”
“Fuck.” Dean’s words leave in a chuckle, and even in the dark, I can tell he’s smiling. “Yes. How the hell do you expect me to refuse—”
He cuts his words off the second I lean down and plant my hands on his thighs, making them flex as I tease my fingertips up and down his sensitive skin. His hard cock quivers when I grip the base, and without waiting, I take him into my mouth, licking up his precum and sucking him deep.
Oh, man. I'll never get tired of this, the feeling of his shaft pulsing and pressing every vein into my lips. He writhes when I clench around the tip, and when he lets out a breath that’s a little too loud, I slide off.
“Shh.”
That’s all I say before going back in for more, moving my hands to his hips and stopping him from thrusting too hard into my mouth. Because the last thing I need right now is to gag—that’d wake the whole damn block up, which can’t happen.
Not before I drain his balls.
Jaw pain aside, I’ve gotten pretty good at getting Dean off. I know exactly where he’s sensitive, that he likes things really freaking wet, and that he goes feral for a couple of well-timed rubs across his heavy nut sack.
I like knowing what to do.
“Wanna see you,” he whispers.
Likewise. I offer a gentle mm-hmm, not stopping my slow, sloppy onslaught, and he shuffles an arm to his nightstand, flicking the lamp on.
Hot damn, I’m never gonna get over the sight of Dean staring down at me with those soft, pleading eyes.
I flick my tongue under his shaft. He’s panting, holding himself back from making any more noise, and his hips rock along in time with his ragged breaths.
And when I think he can’t get any hotter, he chomps down on his pillow to silence himself.
Well, a corner of it, but it’s still so sexy.
I can’t—fuck. I can’t wait any longer. Bringing my hand into the mix, I grip the base of his dick hard and jack him into my open mouth, relishing in how he throbs in my fist and tries to fuck it.
“Give it to me,” I whisper. “I want—” you.
Oh, god.
Oh my fucking god.
“—your nut,” I finish, and I stick him into my blabbering mouth before I can slip up for real.
When he starts leaking more precum seconds later, I fondle his balls, tightening my throat and going in for the kill.
He makes some kind of whimpery garbled noise, gritting his teeth and biting his clenched fist. He throws his head back into the pillow before he shoots, bucking up and wrestling a strangled moan down to keep it from spilling out of his mouth.
My own cock digs into the mattress—I’m leaking into my shorts, but if I have things my way, I’m gonna be leaking somewhere else pretty soon.
His body stills, save for a few lingering shudders here and there. Mission fucking accomplished.
“You should work as, like, a spy or something,” Dean mumbles when I flop down next to him. “Your persuasion skills? Top notch.”
I shrug and plant a kiss on his heaving chest. “Eh. It's easier when the subject is a pliant horndog.”
“You're such a hypocrite.” He smacks my chest. “Don’t tell me you don't want this as badly as I do.”
“I won't, because it isn't true.”
I get a mouthful of tongue as a reply, and with my eyes closed, I feel a warm hand coil around my shaft, gripping hard and stroking slowly.
“Fuck,” I moan, and it’s muffled by Dean’s lazy kissing—the contrast between that and the sheer intensity of his handjob makes my head spin. “You’re gonna make me—”
He presses harder into my mouth, licking the roof and making my spine tingle, so I shut right up.
His skilled, sneaky hand doesn’t let up, and when the first signs of an orgasm prick my balls, Dean jacks me faster like the damn pro he is.
I’m already on the edge, and I don’t even care.
This guy has given me a newfound appreciation of fast, effective, and delightfully devastating quickies.
With my mouth occupied, all I can do is sigh through my nose as I blast my two-day load into Dean’s hand, making him chuckle when he observes the damage, which is at risk of leaking off of my stomach and onto the sheets.
He hesitates for a second, looking around, before yanking a tissue from a packet on the floor and swiping the wetness up.
“This is why I never brought guys into this bed,” he mutters. His tone is low, but his eyes are crinkled at the corner, and his mood is infectious.
I smile back, and as soon as he’s finished wiping us clean, I curl an arm around his wide back and pull him in for a kiss.
This one’s way gentler—I tell myself it’s because we don’t want to make any noise, but I can’t kid myself out of how I want to be soft with him.
As much as I crave being pinned down by his tongue while it spears into me from above, the gentle press of our lips together gives off a sensation so intense it almost stings.
Jesus, I like Dean way too much, and I don’t know how I’m going to get out of it.
The furthest I’ve been from home, whether home is WMU or goddamn Ohio where I grew up, was some bumfuck middle-of-nowhere town in Eastern Ontario to visit my grandparents.
And now I’m what—seven, eight thousand miles across the world, under the guise of friendship and not wanting to be alone.
But who am I kidding? There’s nothing casual or plain friendly about the way Dean’s curling his tall body into my arms and sleeping on my damn chest. My chest that gets achy whenever he does this.
He does this a lot.
Because we fall asleep together a lot, like we’re doing now, and how we’re going to every single night for the next two weeks.
But when I get another one of his cute little sleepy noises and a heavy arm around my shoulders, the annoying, fanciful voice in my head tells me this is worth it.
After a few more hours of fitful sleep, I’m sitting in a restaurant with Dean, who’s stuffing his face and making noises that belong in the bedroom, not in public. I’ve already had more than enough for lunch, and he’s showing no signs of slowing down.