by JD Chambers
Craig, who doesn’t seem to have to choose between talking or breathing, spends the rest of the hike talking about his outdoor adventures in California, and I let him believe that he was successful in avoiding talking about his family. We've just started this, whatever this is, so if he’s not comfortable going there yet, that's understandable. I'm the one who has no problem complaining about my upbringing to anyone who will listen.
By the end of the hike, it may have been downhill, but I’m at the point where I hope the reward Craig promised me is death. Or at the very least, a bath and bed. People do this on purpose?
The parking lot and Craig's car come into view, and I'd cheer but I can't feel my arms. My shirt clings to my skin, and not in a sexy way. The smell of our sweat mixing stopped being sexy ages ago as well. Unless you find dirt and blisters a turn-on, I don't think anyone's libido could withstand what I've just been through.
“I'm sorry you didn't like it.” Craig looks guilty as he hands me his water bottle. I finished mine off before we even made it to the top.
“I liked it. It was pretty,” I say, but I don't have the energy to sell it.
“Pretty awful?”
I snort, and I’m too fucking tired to be embarrassed about it.
“Come on,” Craig says and puts his arm around my shoulders, sneaking a kiss to my cheek. “Let's get you back to civilization.”
I'd rub my cheek if I could lift my arm. He's the perfect mix of sweet and bad-ass. And, at least for the moment, he's all mine.
“And beer?” I ask, settling into the passenger seat and alleviating my body pain for the first time in hours. “Beer good. Beer make pain go away.”
“Yes, baby,” Craig pats my head, “We'll get you some beer.”
I smile at him, and at the fact that he keeps using terms of endearment. While the motion of the car rocks me to sleep, Craig is the last thing I see.
The slam of the car door jolts me awake. Craig twists around and starts the car back up, and I groggily take in our surroundings – the Liquor Mart parking lot near my house.
“I promised you beer, and I thought maybe we could order a pizza?”
“Sounds perfect.”
The stairs up to my apartment are daunting, so Craig jokingly hands me the beers and sets his hands on my ass and starts to push. I'm not even kidding, though, I need the assistance.
“Heave ho. I'm not getting there on my own.”
“Jackass,” he laughs, but he keeps his hands firmly on my cheeks.
Ben's home, and when we burst through the door, his jaw drops.
“What the fuck happened to you?”
“A mountain,” I say, then turn to Craig. “Feel free to go ahead and shower. I'll order the pizza and then bring you some spare clothes. What do you like on your pizza?”
Craig holds up his backpack. “Already got a change with me. But anything with meat is good.” He winks and disappears into the bathroom.
“Seriously, dude, what the fuck? Last night, you were all sad when you got home from your date, and now you’re out doing physical activity with the guy?” I groan and head to the couch, but he holds out a hand. “Do not sit your stinky ass on this couch,” he says and points to the dining table.
“Craig apparently thinks a picnic and a hike are a nice date.” I try to smile, but I think it comes off as a grimace. “It was sweet.”
He starts to argue, but I hold up a finger to silence him while I order our usual from the pizza place down the street. They'll be here in twenty minutes, which gives me enough time to shower. Ben follows me down the hall, still trying to argue the point that a hiking date was sweet, but I turn to stop him.
“Seriously, do you want me still smelling like this when the pizza gets here?”
Ben holds his hands up in surrender, and I slide through the bathroom door, not opening wide in case Craig is still changing. Ben doesn't get to see that.
Fortunately for me, Craig's still in the shower, so I rap on the shower door.
“Find everything you need?”
The door slides open and a hand snakes out, tugging at my shirt.
“I have now. We could save water if you joined me,” Craig says, and sighs after I quickly shed my clothing and climb in behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. Now that I know the kind of work that goes into his slim build and toned muscles, I appreciate it even more. I grab the bar of soap and start to lather him up, dragging it across each dip of muscle. His eyebrow ring isn’t his only piercing, I’m happy to discover, and his nipples tighten when I tug on the barbells I’ve found. Damn, everything about him is fucking sexy.
“Tease,” he growls and spins around, rubbing our fronts together and getting me soapy in the process. The metal in his nipples rubs against mine, making them tight and sensitive. He takes the soap from my hand and runs it along my back. My hands are still soapy, so I use them to continue exploring, I mean cleaning, his back and ass. Meanwhile, Craig traces my crack with the soap, up and down repeatedly, and it's driving me crazy, thinking of the many ways to get it dirty again. He could clean my hole, just like this, then hold me open for someone to come behind me, making me nothing but a soapy filling.
Banging on the bathroom door jolts me from my fantasy, and I'm horrified to realize I'm on the verge of coming while grabbing onto Craig's ass and grinding my cock into his. Apparently Craig hasn't minded, though, because he reaches down and takes both soapy dicks in hand, stroking us together.
“Zach!” Ben's shouting accompanies another series of banging. “Pizza's here! Where's your wallet?”
“Mine's in the backpack in Zach’s room,” Craig yells back, startling me, because despite all the yelling, he hasn't stopped jerking us off. Instead, his strokes speed up, and his other hand reaches between my cheeks and taps against my hole. “My treat if you leave!”
He presses a soapy finger inside in time with his shout, and it burns, but it's perfect. The tendon running along his shoulder twitches from his movements and I have to bite it. Craig’s shout drags into a moan as his cum hits my stomach.
There aren't any more interruptions, so Ben must have found the wallet. And Craig has found my prostate. A couple of taps are all it takes, and I'm shooting over his hand. I didn’t realize I’d moved my bites to his earlobe until the metallic taste of his hoop is on my tongue.
He's still panting against me when I release him and gently pull him from me, so that I can wash our releases down the drain. He hums in contentment and I run my hand along his back.
“That was a nice reward,” I say, and giggle into his neck. “Pizza time.”
14
Craig
Zach rushes to get dressed for pizza after our shower, then shoves an extra towel at me through a crack in the door, like he doesn’t want Ben to accidentally get a peek. I wasn’t expecting Jealous Zach. It’s pretty damn cute.
I wrap the towel around my waist and sneak from one doorway to the one kitty-corner from it. Water drips from my hair onto my back and neck but I leave the towel in place. I’m not losing this opportunity to creep on his bedroom.
There is no artwork or posters like someone his age might have, and the only decoration on his wall is his framed diploma, granting his bachelor degrees, because of course he earned dual degrees in business and data science, and declaring him summa cum laude and a graduate of the honors program. As if I needed more reasons to feel inferior.
His bed is a full size with a sensible blue cotton comforter and a much less sensible crocheted afghan in a variety of orange hues tossed at the foot. It isn’t until I get to the bookshelf that I see Zach reflected in this room. Non-fiction takes up a majority of rows, many of which I’m guessing were for his degree, but I bet a lot were just topics he developed a sudden curiosity over. A few graphic novels and some very prettily-bound hardback fantasy novels line the bottom row. It’s so neat and tidy; if this were in anyone else’s bedroom, you’d think the books were all for show. But pulling one out at random proves different
ly, with finger-worn edges and highlighted sticky-noted pages. Zach has probably read each one cover to cover.
“You’re going to get my books wet.” Zach’s voice comes from the doorway, and I don’t have to turn around to know he’s turning pink.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” I say, carefully replacing the book and grabbing my backpack that I dropped inside the doorway earlier.
“You didn’t.” He waves a hand in front of himself in a fluttery way that contradicts that statement. “It’s just … personal.”
I nod, because I totally get it. It’s why I was snooping in the first place.
“But I don’t mind you looking,” he adds, and ducks away, presumably to keep me from seeing his blush deepen even further.
By the time I’m dressed, Ben and Zach are already seated on the couch with plates of pizza in their laps and Bizarre Foods on the television. Funny how I was thinking about that show earlier. I hadn’t made a reference, but now I know Zach would have gotten it if I had.
“Grab a plate and come watch,” Ben says with a half-assed gesture toward the pizza box lying open on the kitchen table.
“How can you watch that show while you’re eating?” I pick up a plastic plate that looks like the top half of R2-D2 and snicker.
“Those are Ben’s,” Zach calls out, as if making sure I know he’s nerdy, but not that nerdy.
“And they’re awesome,” Ben says. “We can play a game instead, if you want.”
“Mario Kart?” Zach says with an adorable hopefulness, and I find myself willing to play that stupid game all afternoon if he wants.
Ben scoffs. “I was thinking a real game.”
“If these are real plates, then Mario Kart is a real game,” I say, sitting down with my R2-D2 plate piled high with pepperoni and black olive pizza. There will be a small pile of olives to the side by the time I’m finished. Olives gross me out. “I’m down with that.”
Ben makes a gagging sound before snatching up a remote to switch the TV over to the game system. “Oh my god, you guys have only been on like two dates and you’re already making me want to vomit.”
Zach flushes a shade to match Princess Peach, which is of course the character he picks. He’s smug, though, as he says, “You’re just mad that I finally get to play a game I like.”
“’Cause you like stupid games.”
My feelings must be on full display across my face because Zach quickly pats my knee. “He’s just kidding. Ben likes to tease me because he can’t understand why I don’t cream my pants over every shoot-em-up game out there.”
I’d laugh at his video game description if his hand wasn’t still on my leg, only the patting has morphed into gentle strokes up and down my thigh, and I don’t think he’s noticed that he’s doing it.
“And I tease him back for being a hairless gorilla who can’t be bothered with dishes or proper grammar. So it’s all fair.”
I can’t choke out a response. I’m too focused on R2-D2 plates and the rank smell of olives in order to keep from getting hard in front of Ben. Zach’s quizzical look travels downward from my face, until he finally catches himself and jerks his hand back like it’s been burned.
I don’t really want more pizza, but it gives me a chance to adjust myself away from way-too observant eyes. I’m mostly calm once I sit back down, until Zach reaches over and grabs one of the olives from my plate and pops it into his mouth. He smirks like he’s gotten away with something, then absently pushes at the bridge of his glasses.
Ben and Zach only have two controllers, so we have to take turns racing each other. It might be one of his favorites, but Zach comes in last every single time. It doesn’t seem to bother him, though, the way it would the guys I usually play games with. They’d be trash-talking each other or tossing the controller and walking away pissed off by now. But not Zach. He keeps muttering little words of encouragement and cheering himself on. I don’t think he realizes he’s doing it, either. I glance to Ben, who has a hard scowl directed toward me, like he’s daring me to say something bad about Zach’s earnestness so he’ll have an excuse to pummel me for it.
I realize now his teasing attempts to steer us to a different game earlier might have been more strategic than Zach will probably ever know.
Zach loses again. He was intently leaning forward while playing, but now he stretches and cracks his knuckles like he does this all the time, and didn’t just get his ass whooped.
“Oh well. That’s the best time I’ve had so far. Did you see?”
“You were amazing,” I say, and peck his lips, wishing I was brave enough to turn the “were” to an “are.” The smile I’m rewarded with could keep me warm for an entire week. The feelings Zach fills me with are so contrary and unfamiliar. I can’t decide whether I want to cradle him and keep him safe, or eat him up in one gulp. He looks up at me from under those thick, nearly white lashes like it’s the first time he’s ever been called amazing, and I decide that eating him up is the way to go at the moment.
“You know, Zach, there’s a book in your room that I had a question about. You wanna?” I nod my head toward his room.
“Subtle,” Ben snorts. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just be in here playing with the headphones on.”
Before I know it, Zach has dragged me into his bedroom and pushed me against the door after closing it. He walks away and I only have a few seconds for my brain to catch up before he returns with a pillow that he tosses at my feet before dropping to his knees. Holy fuck, he looks like he's ready to devour me.
“I was gonna …” is about all I can get out with Zach’s hands on my zipper.
“Me first,” he says while opening my pants. “It’s my best time reward, so you have to do what I want.”
Zach flashes a grin that self-proclaims him the winner, then his expression turns greedy and he sets to work. His nose nudges the part of my briefs that are exposed and he inhales like he wants to get drunk on my scent. A wet trail forms along the edge of my briefs as he licks along that line, and my jeans are jerked down to my ankles.
“Fuuuuck.” I lean my head against the door, overwhelmed by the teasing sensations. “Zach, you're killing me.”
The only response I get is a pleased hum as he rubs his face back and forth across my covered crotch, his tongue-slicked lips deliberately trailing along the outline of my cock. His fingers leave light trails up and down my thighs until they find the bottom edge of my briefs and tease the sensitive skin there. Those slender fingers continue their path up under the fabric, but avoid my dick with infuriating ease. My hips buck to the sides, and I hear a smothered giggle and feel it tickle my balls.
“Zach.” I'm actually whining at this point, but goddamn it, I need to be touched.
Finally his fingers reach the top of my briefs and slowly start to peel the fabric down over my cock. The air feels even cooler because my skin is so wet, although I'm not sure if it’s my precum or his saliva, and honestly, I don't fucking care.
Zach's tongue reaches out and swipes circles around the rim of my cockhead before he closes his lips around it and sucks. My legs tremble, and it’s a good thing there's a door behind me, or I'd be on the ground right now. Zach continues that pattern of swiping his tongue between my cock and his tight lips, then pushing forward, little by little, until my whole cock is buried in his mouth and down his throat, and his tongue is making little suckling pulses along the bottom of my shaft. Goddamn, I think he's pulling slivers of my brain down through my dick because the only thing I can think right now is how badly I want to thrust and make him choke on it.
Zach pulls back until I'm all the way out of his mouth, but there's still strands of saliva connecting us. I wind my hands into his hair before mentally checking myself to keep from going full-on animal. He reaches a hand up to cover my own, then guides me into gripping his hair harder into a fist.
“Fuck my mouth,” he says, his big eyes innocently pleading, and I practically blow my load right there at those dirt
y words coming from such an angelic face. He tightens his grip on my hand again, forcing me to pull his hair. For a brief second I worry that I've hurt him, before his whole body shudders beneath me and he closes his eyes on a whimper.
Holy fucking Christ, any restraint I was holding onto snaps. I grasp his curls with both hands and shove his face back onto my cock, pushing until his nose smashes into my pubes and grinding his face there. Spit drips down my balls and leaves wet trails running down my thighs. I pull his hair hard to give him a second to breathe before shoving him back down.
Fuck, I'd have never guessed Zach would like it so rough, but he's still moaning like a fucking porn star.
“Don’t wanna come yet.” I tap on Zach’s forehead until he pulls off my cock, his tears and sweat mixing with the saliva dripping from his chin, and I almost come from that sight alone.
He’s amazing, but our times have always been rushed, and I want to lay him out and discover how far his blush will go. I toss off my shirt and bend to press my lips to Zach’s, cupping his cheek and using my thumb to wipe his chin. I bring Zach up with me as I straighten, keeping my lips locked on his, and step out of my clothes as I walk him backward until he hits the bed.
My fingers drag along his skin and I can feel the heat, just from those light touches. I grab the hem of his t-shirt and yank it off, catching his glasses in the process and making him yelp. I’d apologize, but damn, he’s already pink all the way down to his nipples, which have turned almost purple. I nip a tiny bite around one and pull back to watch the pink rush back in to refill the white teeth imprints.
Zach whimpers, and I guide him down to the bed and pull off his jeans, shoes, and socks with movements too impatient to be smooth. His cock is the same deep purple as his nipples and I have to hold myself back from taking it immediately into my mouth. Zach seemed to enjoy teasing me, and I want to return the favor and play first, but the gentle curve and glistening tip call to me and I have to quickly occupy my mouth with something else.
