I’m urging him through crunches when his phone goes off with three text alerts in a row.
Guess it’s important. I jerk my head to say he should answer it, stepping back from where I’m holding his feet flat against the bench.
He scoops it off the end of my bed and taps. His cheeks flush, he licks his lips then chews on the bottom one. Must be some texts.
Of course, I am in shit up past my eyeballs because all I’m thinking is that I’ve got one over on whoever is making him blush since right now I’ve got the dimple and the laugh. Fucked doesn’t even begin to describe my situation.
If I can’t stop thinking with my dick, I’ll need to go look up that not-Trevor piece of ass from yesterday and pound him until I can manage to keep from sending this whole thing pear-shaped. But as I glance over at Trevor, I get a familiar fucked-up understanding. The one I’d had in those long, echoing moments between seeing the blast and feeling the explosion rip through me. It is too damned late to even kiss my ass goodbye.
“That’s enough for today,” I tell him.
“No, let’s finish.”
Determined little brat. I clench my fist against my thigh to keep from dragging my fingers through his hair. I’d have been better off if the bomb had taken off my arms at the elbows. ’Cause that may be the only way I can be sure to keep my hands off him.
Chapter 12
Trevor
I’M soaked with sweat, and it turns cold after the workout. I probably should take a shower when Grady sends me off, but I duck into my room and reread the three texts from Cael.
Took second in downhill.
Missed my scarf.
Missed you.
I remember how his brush-off on Friday felt. Would it have killed him to meet me for five fucking minutes? Congrats, I send.
Might have taken first if I had my own cheering section.
Guess you should write that email to the Dean about how unfair it is.
What really sucks is that I’ve qualified for Regionals.
That didn’t seem like something to bitch about. I send, ?
I’ve never been skiing. I send off the confession before stopping to think about it.
I’ll teach you. And then we can go in the lodge and warm each other back up. He finishes that with a winking tongue out emoji and then one of a flame.
I picture it, a fireplace and me and Cael kissing in front of it.
But you’re going to be at Regionals. Plus, that’s never going to fly with Grady. If he thinks I’ll drink myself to death if I’m not home by ten, he’ll never let me go away for a weekend. With a boyfriend.
Me and Cael—in a bed. I picture Grady’s bed, that perfectly tight, smooth surface. Grady—no—Cael drives me onto the mattress, his hands squeeze my ass back to full soreness. My dick springs to life even as the fantasy derails.
My ass still comes to a prickling, throbbing awareness if I sit on it too long—even on something soft. The only mark left from Friday isn’t big, but it’s round and in a weird spot on the cheek. I can’t think of anything it looks like other than that I got spanked with a paddle. Assuming things get as far as Cael seeing me naked, and that he isn’t turned off by my skinny legs, that bruise will be hard to explain away. Even if I didn’t suck at lying.
I press my palm against the base of my dick as I read Cael’s next text.
I know. But maybe we can meet up during the week.
I’d like that, but he’s the one who brushed me off when I tried it on Friday. Maybe.
Definitely. What’s your schedule like?
*
We finally meet up on the third-floor landing of Robinson Hall. According to Cael, it’s mostly professor offices up here and they always take the elevators. He smiles as soon as he sees me waiting. I already feel pretty good just from the smile before he kisses me. I part my lips. He backs me into the wall, and then he’s really kissing me.
His tongue slides along mine, and I push back into his mouth. I know what a kiss is, academically. I know what it’s for biologically and chemically. We’re exchanging antibodies, our cells seeking a contrasting histocompatibility. I know a kiss lowers cortisol and boosts testosterone. But until Thursday, that’s all I’d known about it. None of that explained why it felt so good, or why though I want to keep kissing Cael, I can’t help wonder what Grady’s mouth tastes like.
Cael groans, and his hands move from my face to my shoulders and then around my back. He lifts his head. “That’s even nicer than I remembered. Hi, Trevor.”
“Hi.” My stomach is making little flops, and my balls feel heavy and good. It’s not like that dizzy stretch between fear and want making my dick so hard it aches the way it did when I was waiting in the bathroom Friday night, waiting for Grady to come get me for my spanking, but I like this. I want more.
My hands are on his shoulders, and I squeeze. We start kissing again. His hands move to my waist, and then they’re on my ass, squeezing. What pain is left under the skin flares up and makes my dick instantly hard. Cael gasps and shoves his hips into me, lifting me by my ass so I can feel his dick too. I want him to squeeze harder, grind harder, but I don’t want to stop kissing him. I groan into his mouth, increasing the friction of our tongues, and that works because he lifts me a little more.
Maybe I should tell him...something...about my kink.
He pulls off my mouth, gasping into my ear, his hips still rocking into mine. “Fuck. If it wasn’t for who my uncle is, we’d be fucking in a bathroom right now.”
His uncle? Right. He was a senator. I hadn’t thought at all about whether me doing stuff in a bathroom would make my father look bad. But I wasn’t on the ski team. No one knew me.
“I hate my roommate.” Cael rests his forehead against mine.
“Why?”
“Well, he’s a neurotic freak.” The disgust in Cael’s voice has me deciding that I would definitely not be telling Cael about my spanking and pain kink.
Cael smiles, and his voice is back to normal. “Mostly right now I hate him because he spends too much fucking time in the room. But he’s going home for the weekend, and I’ll be back before he is.” Cael squeezes my ass again, tugging my lower lip into his mouth. I think we’re going to make out some more, but he says, “What are you doing Sunday, Trevor?”
I can always tell Grady I need to go to the library. “Nothing.” But my voice is full of hope.
“Wrong. You’re doing me.” Cael’s grin makes me laugh at his cheesy line.
*
I come down to breakfast on Sunday to see that on his trip to get the papers, Grady picked up fresh popovers from the bakery on Armory Street. They're still warm.
"Thank you." I have one out of the bag and in my mouth so fast the you comes out muffled.
"Hmm. We'll see how grateful you are when we train later."
He's had me doing biceps and triceps curls, as well as running on the treadmill. He has one of those cool blade prosthetics for running. He does miles, no sweat. I'm dying after one. He's not a drill sergeant about it though. He's patient but firm about pushing me. Despite how close he gets to me, I don't even spring wood because I'm concentrating on other body parts.
But I can't work out with him today. I'm meeting Cael.
As of last night, Cael wasn’t sure what time they’d be back from Vermont, so I’m going to hang out at the coffee shop until I get a text. I think we’re going right to Cael’s room since his roommate had to fly home for a wedding and won’t be back until late Sunday night.
“I can’t today. I'm... I was going to go over to the campus.”
Grady doesn't react. The comics are open on the table in front him.
He had me training with him on Tuesday and Thursday before dinner. It's not like we had plans for this Sunday, but I stammer on with my excuse. “I need to check some stuff out.” Like
Cael's dick, I hope.
"Are you lying to me, kid?" Despite the level tone, there's a hint of danger in Grady's voice, and damn if it doesn't make my dick wake up even more than the prospect of seeing Cael naked.
“I, uh, have a date?”
Grady smiles. “You don't know?”
“Yes, I mean, I do.” Ask me with who. Care that it's with someone and not you. But that's just crazy. I'm a kid to him. Even if he hasn’t spanked me since last week.
“What time?” he says.
“I'll be home by ten,” I blurt. My ass isn't sore at all anymore, the bruise faded to nothing. I almost wish I could get a half-spanking. One where it leads to the best jerk-off ever but not the kind where I'm crying and desperate to get off his lap.
Grady snorts. “I'm sure you will, but I was asking what time you're going.”
“I'm meeting—we’re meeting around eleven.” The way things went down last weekend, I think Grady already knows, but identifying my date as a him would make it obvious in a way I don’t want to deal with right now. What if saying it out loud makes Grady have to say something to my dad? Makes him say I can’t go? “Meeting for coffee.” My voice wants to turn it into a request for permission, and I force it to stay flat.
“I'll give you a ride.”
There's nothing like a question in Grady's words. He's not offering me a ride, he's telling me he's giving me one. Does he want to see who I meet?
We’re almost to Cambridge when Cael texts that he’s headed for the coffeehouse. I wonder if this is going to be awkward. I picture kissing him hello where Grady can see me. Of course I wouldn’t do that, but Grady would still know. When Grady drops me off in front of Burry's Java House, Cael isn't anywhere in sight. I'm not disappointed. Putting off the I'm gay convo is what I wanted, right?
At that moment, I just want to get out of the car. The whole drive Grady's been super quiet, even for him.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“Sure. Have fun.”
Guess that answers how much he cares who I’m meeting. I shut the door, and Grady drives off. Cael comes toward me a moment later, passing the car headed toward campus.
“Is that the family friend you're staying with? Driving the old Jeep?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn.” Cael whips his head back around to stare. The red frame is barely visible at the corner. “Are you sure there aren't any more rooms?”
I wish Grady hadn't given me a ride. I know it’s stupid, but his hotness has been my secret, and I don't want to share him.
We stand at the entrance. People mutter angry excuse mes as they navigate around us.
"Did you really want coffee?" Cael asks.
I shake my head.
The whole walk back to his room, my throat works like I'm dry-swallowing a horse pill, and my nuts feel a gentle tug, like Cael's leading me back by them. We don't have much to say, and as soon as his bedroom door closes behind us, he's kissing me and shoving the coat off my shoulders. It's perfect because I don't know what to say.
I have one sleeve off and my hat hits the floor.
He stops kissing me for a second and smiles. "Yes."
I don't remember a question. My jacket slides off. I reach for him again, but his hand on my chest stops me.
"Boots," he says, and I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows.
We get them off.
Cael takes a step deeper into the room. "Wanna tour?"
I blink. His arm waves in a circle. I see two desks, two dressers, two beds. Small fridge. Books, clothes, paper.
Dick.
In the time it took me to scan the room, Cael got his pants off and is sprawled on a bed, his hand on his dick.
My mouth waters. The head looks satiny and shiny, and my tongue is half out before I even kneel down. I take him in my mouth, rubbing my lips over the ridge.
That tug on my balls turns into heat prickling all over, buzzing on my skin. He tastes salty, a little sour, and I love it. This taste, my first real taste of sex, makes me want to rub it all over me so I can keep smelling it long after this is over. Another bitter-salt drop wells up, and I catch it on my tongue. It makes me dizzy, like my one and only experience drinking whiskey.
And it feels amazing. The way the head fits heavy, hard and slick in my mouth, the way he sounds as my tongue drags over him. My dick pumps out a spit of precome, and I wish I had my jeans off too.
I’m holding the base of Cael’s dick in my left hand, so I use the right to ease the pressure, unzipping. One-handed doesn’t work on the top button, but at least I don’t think I’m getting a zipper print anymore.
I try sucking, keeping my lips tight and pulling back.
“Yes. Fuck.” Cael’s hand covers mine on his dick. “More.”
I might be a virgin, but I’ve seen porn. I know what to do. I let my mouth fill with spit and work at getting down at least as far as our hands. Shit. Cael’s dick didn’t look that big, but it feels huge and impossibly long as I try to fit him in, all while keeping my teeth covered. It’s not as easy as it looks, no matter how much I like doing it.
I open my jaw wider, but that makes my throat close, and I almost gag on him. A second later I lose control of that reflex. Everything convulses, and I jerk away, choking.
“Uh.” Cael doesn’t sound pissed or disappointed. His hand lands like a weight on my neck, but his fingers rub and tingle my skin.
I give it another shot. But as my lips go down onto his shaft, his dick hits the back of my throat, and I choke.
Cael puts his hand on my cheek, and his thumb is on my lips. I suck on that. It’s a lot easier, like what I imagined.
I glance up. He’s got a little smile on his face, and his eyes look like dark, deep water instead of the shifting colors of a stream. But what makes my gut flip and my dick ache is the way he’s staring at my face. Or at my mouth.
“Trevor, is this your—?”
“Doesn’t matter.” I don’t want him to say it, because he obviously already knows. I don’t want to be treated like a kid by someone my own age. I don’t need that here.
Cael scoots up on the bed farther. “Climb up.” He’s not holding out his arms; the space he’s making is between his legs. The grin he gives me is the one I’m really starting to like. “Try it like this.”
My brain flashes on anatomy and physics, and he’s right. This will definitely be a better angle.
He sits up and frees the button on my jeans, and I get them and my briefs down. He rubs his wet-from-my-mouth thumb across the head of my dick. Oh shit. Someone else is touching my dick. Cael is touching my dick, and I thrust toward him, toward his hand. He makes a ring with his fingers and lets me fuck into it. It’s just a hand. Like my hand. Nothing special about it. Except it’s not my hand, and when his thumb rubs under the head, I think I’m going to come, or maybe pass out and die.
He grins again and drops back against his pillows.
I get my jeans off the rest of the way, then kneel to peel off my shirts, throwing them in the same direction as my jeans.
I’m naked. He’s naked. And his dick is so beautiful.
I scootch down so I’m comfortable bending over his dick. His pubes are darker than I’d have thought based on his beard. Darker than the hair on his belly, growing lighter on his balls. His balls. I lift them gently, brushing my lips across them.
I raise my head enough to look at his face. After him talking about neurotic freaks, I’m not going to tell him what’s been getting me off in my head, but I wonder if there’s stuff I should know about him. “Is there anything you like?”
He smiles like I already have that covered and yeah, I think oral sex is kind of a given.
“I mean particularly—or don’t like?”
He pushes my hair back from my face. “Do what you want. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.”
That seems reasonable. I run my lips over his balls again, the prickle of hair and then the velvety skin. I put my tongue out, poking,
then licking.
“Fuck. I like that.” Cael’s voice is rough.
I wiggle down more, trying to figure out how to manage kissing and touching everything I want at the same time. I use one hand on his dick and the other to help get a nut in my mouth, filling my mouth with the shape, rolling it on my tongue.
“Suck it. Please. God.”
I can do that. I realize my middle finger is cradled in his crack, so I rub there too. I pull off and go for his other nut, sucking it right away.
“Oh fuck, that’s good, Trevor.” His hand on my head doesn’t feel like Grady’s. Cael’s is sharper somehow, his fingers tight on my scalp. It doesn’t hurt, just makes me aware of an edge that’s not there when Grady pulls his fingers through it.
I lick my way back up his dick. There are two bulging veins on the underside, swollen ridges I can trace with my tongue.
I could lick and kiss him all day. I love dick.
And damn it, I’m going to learn how to suck cock right. I move my head to open my throat more and sink down on Cael’s dick.
“Jesus, yes.” Cael’s fingers tighten on my hair. “Good.” I bob, and as Cael bucks, my finger slides and brushes his asshole.
He makes a moan in his throat that’s almost a whine. I push on the dent, feel the muscle under the hair, the way it gives a little. But my nails are rough and my finger is dry, so I just keep rubbing there and bobbing up and down on his dick.
His hand slides on his dick, moving opposite my mouth.
“Fucking perfect, Trevor. You’re fucking perfect.” He’s yanking at my hair now, his dick bumping up against the back of my throat. My eyes are watering, and my jaw is killing me. I rub harder with my finger, and his legs shake.
“Gonna come.”
I guess that’s my cue to either swallow or not. I want it all.
I stay on him and wish I’d thought to grab his hips because I think he’s bruising my tonsils with the force of that bucking. The warm rush floods my mouth. It’s salty, bitter enough to make my nose burn, and I still want it all. I swallow, and he makes a sound that echoes in my chest, deep and desperate.
The Trouble with Trevor (Off Limits Book 1) Page 8
