by JL Merrow
“Fuck,” I moaned.
“Maybe later. Right now I’m too impatient. You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” He stood up suddenly, pulling me up with him, and we were pressed together, collarbone to crotch, only our thin cotton underwear between us. His hands were still kneading my arse, pressing us closer, and the heat of his skin seemed to sear me, almost too much to bear. He was the perfect height, maybe an inch taller than I was, so I had to tilt my head up a fraction to kiss him. His lips tasted salty from the pre-come that had soaked through my briefs, and I felt a sudden fierce jealousy because I hadn’t had the chance to taste him yet.
I ran my hands over that taut, smooth back, then down into his boxer briefs. “Get them off,” I breathed into his ear. “Want to see you, feel you. Taste you.” His cock ground into mine at that, and then he backed off about a millimetre so I could ease his underwear off his firm buttocks and down those sinewy thighs. I started to pull my own briefs off.
“No—leave them on,” he told me, his voice breathy. “Present from your ex, right? I’m going to claim those briefs tonight. Next time you put them on you’ll be thinking of me.”
“Jealous sort, are you?” I teased.
“Yes.”
The matter-of-fact way he said it sent a shiver down my spine and into my balls. God, I’d dreamed he’d be like this. Every time I’d jerked off in the last six months I’d been thinking about him possessing me, taking me. I dropped to my knees almost without thinking about it, and at last I was face to face with the gorgeous, thick cock I’d only been able to feel so far. He had a rich, musky smell, and I could feel the heat from his erection coming towards me in waves.
There was a single, clear drop of fluid shining at the end of it, so I licked that off first, the taste exploding on my tongue as he moaned above me. Grabbing the base of him, I plunged my mouth over his cock, making him buck wildly. “God, that’s good,” he gasped.
I moved my lips up and down, adding a bit of suction, feeling the engorged veins on my tongue, and he moaned again. “God—jerk yourself off,” he instructed, his voice sounding a bit strained. “Through your briefs. Want—want you to come in them.”
I almost did so there and then. It was a bloody good thing those briefs were so stretchy or my dick would have ripped a hole in them by now. Still sucking on him, I wrapped my hand around my length, the damp cotton feeling rough against my sensitive flesh. I shuddered as I gave the first pull, and Alec reacted by grabbing my head and urging me on.
I sucked a couple more times, and then I relaxed my throat and swallowed round him, taking him all in. He was so thick I’d be hoarse in the morning, but fuck, it was worth it as he gave a strangled cry and shot right down my throat. And then I was coming too, just managing not to choke as I filled up those briefs with my release.
Alec pulled out of my mouth and dragged me back up to my feet again, and we kissed, our sweat mingling, my soaked briefs smearing him with my come. “Come to bed,” Alec told me.
I wasn’t going to say no.
* * * *
Next day, wearing one of Alec’s shirts and a pair of his underwear, I tried to sneak in early to the nursery so no one would notice I’d brought Poppy with me. In my dreams. Maggie gave me an incredulous look as I walked in. “Do I even want to ask?” she said archly once I’d sent Poppy off to play dressing up.
I grimaced at her. “I don’t think you’ll have to. I’ve got a sneaking suspicion Poppy will have told the whole nursery by lunchtime.”
Which was pretty prophetic, really, as fifteen minutes later, after the rest of the kids had turned up, I found Poppy excitedly telling little Cormac—and his mum—that “Jason’s got funny pants just like Santa’s, because Daddy put them in the wash this morning and I saw!”
THE END
ABOUT J.L. MERROW
J.L. Merrow is that rare beast, an English person who refuses to drink tea. She read Natural Sciences at Cambridge, where she learned many things, chief amongst which was that she never wanted to see the inside of a lab ever again. Her one regret is that she never mastered the ability of punting one-handed whilst holding a glass of champagne.
She writes across genres, with a preference for contemporary gay romance and the paranormal, and is frequently accused of humour. Find her online at jlmerrow.com.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!
