The moment stretched out. He didn’t bolt, but he didn’t move toward me either. I licked my hand, then stroked myself, keeping a gasp behind my teeth.
He stared.
“You don’t have to do anything. But if you want to watch me jerk off, it would be awesome if you were kissing me.” I sat on my bed, legs spread, hand gliding up and down on my dick.
He started toward me like a sleepwalker, remembered his pants bunched around his knees and then fumbled out of them. His legs were long, thighs dusted with dark hair, less on his calves.
He gripped the hem of his sweatshirt, then hesitated. “I have some—because of the Waardenburg—there’s a weird patch over my ribs, on the right side.”
I nodded, since I didn’t know what to say. Okay? Of course it was okay. I don’t know how people had reacted before but I figured they hadn’t been too nice about it. I already liked his looks. Liked him. He was funny and cute and getting naked in my room. There was absolutely nothing to complain about.
He jerked the sweatshirt and the black T-shirt underneath over his head, then put his knee on the bed. Between my legs. Excellent.
I let go of my dick to get my hands on him. His skin was cool under my palms. I ran my hands up along his ribs, and I swore he was thinner than I was. The patch he’d mentioned was spread from his side across a couple of ribs, white, like a splash of dry paint across his already pale skin. But what I stared at was thick hair in a narrow line down his sternum to his groin. It was like an arrow pointing right at his cock, and I wanted to follow directions. The hair started between his nipples, a little bit of it poking up around them, black against the flushed pink.
I resisted the urge to lick, although I was sure he’d make that hot breathy sound in my ear, but I thought it might be too much right after shooting.
There was something I had to know, and I couldn’t stop myself from finding that out. I stroked my hands down along his back, and onto his ass, gripping the firm muscles. I squeezed, pulling his cheeks apart.
He made a soft gasp and his gaze was heavy on mine.
My heart slammed up against my ribs. God, yes.
He straddled my thighs and put his hands on my shoulders. “Do you want to fuck me?”
“No—I mean, hell yes. But we don’t have to—oh fuck.”
He moved up, settling over my lap so my dick was between his cheeks. Shit, now I would be the one with the hair trigger. Who was the virgin here?
The muscles I’d felt squeezed around my shaft.
“I want to.” Wyatt ran his hands down my chest, then moved his ass on my cock. “I put my finger in sometimes.” His voice was low, but not hesitant. “When I jerk off.”
It was going to happen. I was going to get to fuck him. But there were things to talk about. There were steps. I couldn’t just—
But God, that was his hole, and he was sliding it over the head of my cock. I could feel everything. The soft hair, rippled silky skin and the hard resistance underneath. My dick wanted—I wanted—to push hard into him, drag him down on my cock until I flooded his ass with my come.
I grabbed his hips and rolled him onto his back, lowered myself onto him until every bit of our skin touched. It felt so damned good I had to kiss him and share that giddy rush through our tongues.
His hands slid through my hair and he kissed me back. I loved the way he kissed, that first brush of lips dissolving almost instantly into a desperate openmouthed hunger. He kissed like that alone would get him off, like every bottled-up moment of his life was about to explode if he could just get deep enough. I loved it, and it made me dizzy. I backed off, dragging our cheeks together, tingling from the rasp of our stubble.
“You make me so hot. I want to fuck you, Wyatt.” I breathed the words into his ear and then tongued the groove under his jaw. My teeth scraped through a thicker patch of stubble on his neck.
His gaze was boring into the top of my head so I looked up. He pointed at his ear.
Fuck. I’d forgotten. “Sorry.”
He waited for me to repeat it.
But panting out that sort of stuff was one thing when I was still all dizzy from kissing and another thing to say out loud when he was looking at me like I had something important to tell him.
“Just...” I shrugged and bent down to see if the strip of hair on his chest was as soft as it looked. It was. Soft against my lips and my nose as I drifted down the path it laid out for me. I was breathing him in, enjoying the smell of his skin and fresh spunk when he dragged me back up.
I might be thin but I’m bone-heavy and not that easy to drag where I don’t want to be. Despite Wyatt’s build, he had biceps that swelled with a sexy curve to his shoulder.
I put my palms over them, the muscle hard and hot under my hands. “What?”
“You don’t have to do all that.”
My dick definitely wanted me to get with the program, but I wasn’t going to fuck him until he was hard again. “I’ve been thinking about how you looked under your hoodie since I met you. I’m appreciating what you’ve got.”
“Well, don’t.” So much for getting that sexy break back in his voice. His words were all clipped again. “Just do it.”
“Okay, Nike.” I rolled off him, an emptiness echoing around in my guts. It hurt that he found my moves so boring. Because to be honest, they hadn’t been moves. That had been how I wanted—no needed—to touch him. But if he only wanted to get fucked, I could do that.
I grabbed the lube out of the crate under my bed and flipped the cap. “Fine. Let’s get going. Roll over.”
I wasn’t a total virgin at ass fucking. Blake and I hadn’t gotten to the God-your-dick-feels-so-good-in-me part that I loved watching in porn, but we’d been working toward it. It wasn’t a fucking calculus problem to solve.
Now facedown on my bed, Wyatt tipped his ass up. I spread his cheeks and squirted lube on his hole.
He jumped.
It was cold, and always a shock, the sudden feel of something there.
Guilt stabbed my gut. I might have been pissed, but I didn’t want to hurt him. I was still going to take my time getting into him.
My dick jerked at the thought of being inside him, while my balls ached at the idea of how slow it all was. I rubbed my cheek against his shoulder and fuck him if it was too touchy-feely. I needed a breath.
I rubbed the lube around the rim, my finger brushing over top of the hole, dipping lightly in. He slammed up, driving my finger all the way inside. Inside wet and hot and soft. I buried a gasp in his shoulder as my dick left a smear of precome on my belly.
“Told you I didn’t need all that,” he said into my pillow.
I wanted to point out that my dick was a lot bigger than my finger, thank you very much, but a question popped out instead. “Have you been fucked before?”
“No.” His breaths got faster as I worked my finger in him, in-and-out jabs, then twisting it. “I told you. I fuck myself when I jerk off.”
It took me a minute to figure out which was his right, but I leaned over him to whisper in his good ear, “How many fingers do you use?”
“Two. Do it hard.”
I wanted to, I did, but all the blood in my body was in my dick because this time it was Going To Happen. Wyatt was going to have to wait a second while I remembered how my other body parts worked.
I grabbed the lube and put more on my fingers. Tongue between my teeth, I pushed in. So tight, so much pressure, but I sank all the way down to my knuckles without resistance. I moved them and Wyatt humped against the sheet.
“Harder.”
Everything in me said hell yeah to that. I pumped fast, listening to him gasp and groan. I twisted my wrist, his hips stuttered and he made one of those broken moans I’d been craving. I spread my fingers wide, scissored them past each other and was rewarded with deep grunts of yes, yes, yes.
I wiped my fingers on the sheet and grabbed the lube again, slicking up my cock as carefully as I could because I was about five strokes fro
m shooting on his back, and that wasn’t where I wanted to do it.
Damn. I looked down at my dick, all shiny, hard and red. And naked.
Blake and I had never used condoms. We were going to be each other’s first and only so we didn’t need them.
“I—I don’t have a condom.” Please, God, let Wyatt say he did.
Wyatt shifted onto his side. “Do we need one?”
No! My dick wanted me to shout, no matter how much it had shriveled watching those gross-out slide shows in sex ed. “I don’t know. It was only...” Wyatt would know who I meant. No point in actually dragging Blake into bed with us. And it was true, at least as far as my ass was concerned. “But I’ve never been tested for STDs.”
Wyatt sat up. “I have.”
“Oh.” I glanced down. My gaze landed on his dick, which had gotten hard again, but was losing altitude as we talked. So he wasn’t a virgin. What difference did it make?
He shifted around on the bed. “The tests were all negative. You can believe me or not, but I’ve never had sex with anyone before.” He arranged his legs on either side of where I knelt. “I want to with you.”
I did too. Some people might think I was crazy to believe him, to risk it, but I did. I looked at him. My desk lamp was more than enough to see all the depth of color in his eyes, both of them, at once. I’d always been looking at one or the other, or his lips, or the hair, but now I was looking at him, at his whole face and I knew he was telling me the truth.
I nodded, then cupped his ass to drag him to my thighs. I swiped my thumb over his hole, dipped it in to find him still slick and open.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
He gave me a half smile. Not one of his smirks, but something sweeter. “I know. I like that about you, Ethan.”
He dropped his legs wide around my hips, knees bent. I gripped my dick to aim it. He was so warm and slippery, and feeling the texture of the skin was insanely different with the head of my dick instead of my finger.
I pushed and went nowhere. Waited. Felt the muscle soften and pushed again. I was in. Hot. Wet. Tight. Softness pulsing and clinging everywhere. My brain shorted out. Heaven. Fucking heaven on my dick.
I let out a long breath and licked the sweat off my upper lip. I’d managed to sink in about halfway. His ass was clenching on me, but not so hard I couldn’t move. I studied his face. He was biting his lower lip, eyes squinted shut.
As I watched, his eyes opened. Blinked. He shuddered out a breath and wrapped his legs around my hips.
“Okay,” he whispered.
I hoped that meant he was ready for more. I drove in all the way and he squeezed me, pulsed around me. I wanted to fuck him forever. Be buried inside him forever. It was so good like this, and then his legs pulled me closer because he wanted me in him. Wanted more of me.
“Fuck me.”
I was going to give it one hell of a try.
It wouldn’t be enough though. Could never be enough to match how good it was now. I flexed my hips and it was better. His insides clung to me as I moved, dragging along my shaft like ten tongues all working at once. I loved fucking.
“Thank you.” Shit. Did I say that out loud?
He smiled again. “You’re welcome.”
I rocked again, and his eyes rolled up before his lids shut. His groan went so deep I felt it vibrate on my dick.
I needed, God, I needed leverage. My toes pushed against the mattress, and my hand went stretching out for the bed frame.
The shift in positions worked for him too because he locked his legs around my back and panted, “Like that, fuck like that,” in my ear.
I didn’t know how I was going to be able to keep from coming right away. It was too much sensation, all of it good, but it was different enough from anything I’d felt to keep me from sliding into the big climb right away.
Plus, everything kept changing. All the shifts of his body, all the sounds he made echoed, amplified on my dick. Every time I thought something would trigger me, I kept going.
He tipped his hips and I slid in deeper. God, deeper.
I’d been known to jerk it to just diagrams of gay sex on the internet so I knew what I was supposed to be aiming for. I braced up on my hands and tried to find the angle that would make him scream.
It was hard to tell from the inside, though I think he got softer around me, but based on what was happening on the outside, yeah, I was pretty sure I had it. He was groaning and whining, the sounds tearing from his chest, and he yanked on my hair like he had when I was blowing him. But now I got to watch his face. The concentration, the desperation. It made my balls hike up and I hoped I’d be able to last long enough to get us both there. I rolled my hips, clamping down with my muscles to keep the orgasm from spilling over.
His hand worked between us, dragging on his dick, and over the sounds of our breaths, the fleshy smack of skin filled the room.
“Don’t stop, Ethan. Don’t you fucking stop.”
I wondered what he’d read in my face to make him issue that warning.
Everything was tight, tense, but oh-so-sweet hanging on that edge. Then his ass clamped down hard, muscle pulsing like crazy and he shot onto our bellies. I let go and flew off into an orgasm that wrung me out. I came and came. Came inside him, and I felt the extra slick heat on my dick through those last jerking strokes before I collapsed onto him.
I should tell him how abso-fucking-lutely amazing that was—in his good ear. I should clean us up in case Connor got back. I should stay awake in case he freaked out and disappeared. But it took my last bit of energy to roll some of my weight onto my hip and off him.
I held on tight, hoping he wouldn’t be able to slip away without me waking up.
It was weird waking up tangled with another body. I’d never been allowed to spend the night at Blake’s house because he had a younger sister and his parents didn’t want to “set precedents for boyfriend sleepovers.” My parents had said not until I turned eighteen and that was after Blake left for school.
The dorm bed was as wide as a sarcophagus, so the only way we fit was on top of each other. It explained why my nose was in his armpit, but not why he was running his fingers through my hair. It felt nice though. I wasn’t going to argue that. And he was awake and not freaked out, so I guess that was all good too.
I needed a shower—we both did. But that would mean his fingers wouldn’t be tingling my scalp anymore so I didn’t move except to shift my nose onto his chest.
“I should go.” Wyatt’s hand stopped moving.
Shit. It wasn’t like he reeked. I should have stayed put.
I didn’t need to lift my head to know we were the only two in the room. Connor wasn’t the quietest of sleepers. I’d have heard him sighing or grumbling by now.
“You don’t have to.” I was on his right side, no worry about whether he heard me.
Though he’d stopped stroking my hair, I still didn’t want him to go. I knew if he got out of this bed, he’d go back to being closed-off, smirking Wyatt, hidden behind his wall of hair and his hoodies. I’d be locked out of these moments when he was sweet and soft. Something that only happened when it was just the two of us.
“It’s the middle of the night.” I had no idea what time it was, but the window was still dark. “Just stay.”
I thought he would argue with me, mostly because that seemed to be how things rolled between us, but he didn’t.
He went back to petting my hair, sifting his fingers through it like I did with the fur on Blake’s fluffy Angora cat. The sides were shaved short, so he scraped his nails through it there, then stroked the longer curls on top. Over and over. It was hypnotic. I started to drift off, then jerked awake.
“You’re doing that to make me fall asleep so you can sneak out.”
“Sneak out?”
I felt him looking down at me. “I noticed you didn’t argue my main point.”
“I don’t want to argue.”
I didn’t either. I just wante
d to hold him. “So don’t.”
He made a breath like a laugh. “Because it’s that easy.”
“Yes. If you don’t want to argue, you don’t argue. If you don’t want to fight, you don’t fight.”
“Things are so simple in your world.”
“My world? Don’t you live here too?”
I felt him shake his head, then he kissed my temple. He was quiet after that, and I thought he’d decided to fall back asleep.
Right as I relaxed he said, “I really need a shower though. I’m sticky.”
My throat heated, spreading into my chest remembering how he’d gotten sticky. Come and lube and sweat.
“I can fix that.” I wriggled over him and out of the bed. After dragging on my robe, I rummaged through the closet to find the washcloths my mom had sent me off with. “Be right back.”
In the bathroom I ducked into one of the shower stalls and wiped myself down. It felt a lot stickier than it was. I wet a fresh washcloth for Wyatt and added a little soap from the dispenser over the sink. On the way out, I paused for a second to look at myself in the mirror. My hair was sticking up like I was doing a weather broadcast in a hurricane. My cheeks were a little red under my freckles, the color staining my throat and chest.
“You totally just had sex. And it was awesome,” I told myself.
The high floated me back down the hall until I got back to my room and looked at my empty bed.
Wyatt was gone.
Chapter 11
I wadded up the sheets and shoved them into the laundry bag, then eyed the pillowcase. Fuck it. I was leaving it unwashed. It smelled like Wyatt, like rain and fall leaves, and I wasn’t ready to let that go.
I hit Fast-Forward on another of the peppy songs my Pandora station seemed determined to play for me this morning and headed down to the laundry room with my calculus book.
Connor had rolled in at 7:00 a.m. with a grin and a thumbs-up and flopped on his bed, his sleep grumbles starting up almost immediately.
I’d only had about twenty minutes of sleep in the hours since Wyatt pulled his vanishing act, so when Connor came back, I’d decided I might as well be productive if I was going to be awake.
Getting Him Back Page 8
