by Willa Okati
“You got it. Going to get you clean from head to toe, and then you’re going to wash me.” Billy moved on to Quinn’s arms. His grin grew wicked. “So…what do you plan on doing today, besides classes? This week? This month? Because I gotta tell you, unless you’re taken, I’m claiming you right now. You are mine. Get used to it.”
Quinn closed his eyes. The warm feeling of belonging suffused his body just as the heat from the shower water eased his tense muscles, everything soothed under Billy’s firm strokes with the cloth.
“I’m not doing anything else that matters,” he heard himself say. “I’m yours.”
For now. Yes. As long as you’ll have me…I’m yours.
Chapter Ten
Quinn coughed. “Yes…I’m so very sorry. This seems to have come upon me overnight.” He sneezed. “I don’t want to infect any of the students.” He deepened his voice into a hoarse croak. “I’ll be sure to”—cough—“make up the material. Yes? Thank you.” Sneeze. “Goodbye.”
Billy entered the bedroom, entirely naked and wholly unconcerned. He carried a cup of Quinn’s natural yogurt and a spoon shaped like a rabbit. “What the hell?” he asked as he sat down.
Quinn clicked the “off” button on his cell phone and collapsed back into bed. The sheets made a puff sound as he landed on them. Then, as if to apologize, they crinkled up around him like a cat rubbing against someone’s legs to curry favor. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Then, tentatively, he reached across to lay his hand on the top of Billy’s thigh.
Billy, sitting higher in the bed with his back braced against the headboard, waved a spoon in one hand and laughed at Quinn. “You, my friend, are a shitty liar.”
“I wasn’t that bad.”
“Yes, you were.” Billy picked up his container of yogurt, beaded with condensation, and stuck the spoon in. He lifted the dripping mound to his mouth, plunged it in and immediately made a terrible grimace. “Yuck,” he said around a mouthful of Light and Fit. “Now I remember why I hate this nasty-ass crap.”
Quinn managed, awkwardly, to wiggle up so he sat next to Billy, shoulder to shoulder. “Give it over, then, if you don’t like strawberries and cream. I’ll eat the rest.”
“No way.” Billy pulled the container out of reach and plunked it haphazardly on his cluttered bedside table. It teetered precariously on a loose stack of magazines before gaining some measure of balance. “I don’t want to kiss you and taste that shit. Speaking of which…” He reached across, angling his head, and pressed his lips to Quinn’s.
Quinn surrendered to the touch of Billy’s mouth with something like eagerness. He tasted of yogurt and cigarettes. Quinn’s hand wanted to come up and cup the back of Billy’s head, but he couldn’t imagine how to do that with any degree of finesse. He contented himself instead with a brush of his far hand on Billy’s stomach.
“Mmm. You’re getting better at this. Now you have to work on your lying.” Billy relaxed against the headboard. He reached for his cigarettes, almost upsetting the open yogurt, and fumbled for a lighter. “You don’t mind, do you? Hey, maybe you’ll get a real cough.” He winked. “Something that stands a chance in hell at fooling someone.”
Quinn kept a straight face. He’d have called himself an expert at lying, but that would bring up things he thought best kept private for the time being. Those parts of his past which Billy hadn’t guessed, at least, were still his to guard. “I think the secretary believed me,” he said instead. “Hopefully Ten Hawks will, too.”
Billy snorted. “Bullshit. Ben’s way too sharp for a fake cough, even secondhand.”
“Are you complaining about my playing hooky to spend a day with you alone?” Quinn began to scratch Billy’s stomach lightly, daring to be a bit playful. This felt so wicked, but incredibly liberating, albeit not a little frightening. “Perhaps I should go to my Saturday class after all.”
“You better not.” Billy lit up and sucked in, then expelled a thick puff of smoke. “I’ve got you to myself now, and we’re not getting out of this bed all day long.”
“Not even to dry off properly?” Quinn’s hair was still dripping small droplets that ran down his arms to the pillow. Billy’s own wild locks, the red still a dark magenta from the water in their shower, trailed down on his shoulders. Rivulets ran down his chest, wetting Quinn’s hand.
“There ought to be a towel draped over my desk chair.” Billy leaned across to hunt. “Ha!” He came up with a worn green towel with frayed edges that had almost certainly once been emerald. He laid his smoldering cigarette on the ashtray, where it sent up a thin plume of smoke. “I’ll get your hair.”
A part of Quinn quailed at the thought of employing a used towel, but he deliberately thrust the finicky disdain out of his head. “Thank you,” he accepted instead, leaning over so that Billy could do his work. He closed his eyes in pleasure as the towel, still soft, rubbed roughly across his scalp. Billy used his fingers, scratching Quinn’s roots in a way that made Quinn want to purr and curl up in his lap.
All too soon, Billy was finished. He whipped the towel away and gave Quinn a rasping knuckle to the scalp—not hard enough to hurt. Just being playful. “Now you.” He dipped his head down. “I have more hair than you, so do a good job.”
“Me?” Quinn held back, uncertain. He hadn’t dried anyone else’s hair in—well—ever. Melissa had always sequestered herself with blow dryer and curling iron until she was “presentable”. In the older days, when he’d…spent time with boys his own age…they didn’t bother with any such niceties, even if there was a chance to shower the morning after.
“Yeah, you.” Billy butted his head against Quinn’s shoulders. “C’mon, I’m still dripping and it’s starting to get cold.”
“Oh, now you complain.” Quinn hesitantly lifted the towel. It was damp from Billy’s own efforts, but it should still do. He had no idea where to start, but carefully draped the thin green terry over Billy’s head. Placing his fingers just so, he began to rub at the wet hair beneath.
“Mmm, yeah.” Billy undulated with satisfaction. “Harder. I can take it if you want to get rough.”
“I’m sure you can,” Quinn murmured. He rubbed harder, gathering the long strands up in his appropriated towel and stroking them firmly. The thin towel was soon too wet to be of use, though, and he took it away. He was startled to find himself regretful, realizing how much he’d been enjoying that. “I’m sorry. There’s no more that can be done.”
Billy surfaced, blinking. Quinn felt a grin tugging at his mouth, hiding a burst of laughter. Magenta streaks stuck up in every direction, leaving him with the look of a wild dog that’d just been bathed against his will. “What?” Billy asked with a frown.
Quinn felt a surge of tenderness. “Nothing,” he replied, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. He reached across and smoothed down some of the crazy cowlicks. Billy realized what he was doing and cracked up. “Sit still,” Quinn scolded in amusement. “You look…”
“Yeah, I know how I must look.” Billy gave his head a shake. Most of the wild locks fell back into place. “I’ve dried my own hair for almost thirty years now. Smart-ass. See? You’re learning.” He rescued his cigarette and took a puff. “Just toss the towel on the floor.”
Quinn felt another flicker of dismay, but did as he’d been told. The towel landed amidst a welter of other discarded fellows, each one thin and unraveling around the edges. He liked to think they were well-loved in addition to being hard-used, and could not help but compare them to the fluffy lengths Melissa had bought him. They were still stiff after a couple months’ worth of showers.
Stiff as the woman herself.
Given the choice, Quinn would opt for something worn threadbare out of affection instead of pristine perfection. Wasn’t that a bit like Billy? Ragged around the edges, but comforting as a favorite blanket. Comfortable as the thin-washed sheets they lay on.
“Getting cozy?” Billy asked, nudging Quinn.
Qu
inn came out of his reverie with a start, realizing he’d let his head droop on Billy’s shoulder. The automatic reaction was to jerk away, but he held his position for the few moments of internal struggle until they passed, and then nuzzled deeper. “Yes,” he said with an almost-honest conviction. “I am.”
Billy chuckled. “You feel up to another round?” He put his hand on Quinn’s leg, kneading gently. “Since you canceled your class, we don’t have anything better to do.”
“And that’s your solution to the question of an empty day, in which we could otherwise spend bettering ourselves with study?” Quinn teased, surprised at himself. “To fill the hours with sex?”
“No better way to spend a lazy Saturday. I liked your mouth on me earlier. Wouldn’t complain if you went back for a second taste…” Billy pushed at Quinn’s leg, his strong fingers working hard. Quinn groaned at the pleasure from the rough-and-ready massage, feeling a knot of tension dissipate under Billy’s touch.
Well. It would only be fair, wouldn’t it? Quinn pushed aside the momentary feeling of panic and nodded. Truth be told, he felt a hunger for the taste of that cock in his mouth again. Yogurt be damned. He’d prefer a more high-protein breakfast.
A little awkwardly, Quinn scooted down on the bed and over to one side, positioning himself at the right angle to reach with his mouth. He felt Billy’s fingers slide through his hair, encouraging him. Another puff of cigarette smoke rolled over them. Quinn realized that Billy planned to smoke through this whole thing.
“Bet you can’t bring me off before I finish this smoke,” Billy teased. “Even if I go slow to give you the advantage.”
“I don’t want you to finish before the cigarette,” Quinn replied. “I want this to last through a whole pack’s worth.”
“Now you’re getting the spirit.” Billy began rubbing Quinn’s scalp. “Come on. Want to feel that mouth on me again.”
Quinn took a deep breath. Facing Billy’s cock was still new to him, but it brought back memories that suddenly seemed yesterday-clear, and an eagerness that was entirely new. He licked his lips as he gazed at the prick presented for his attention. Long and thick even when lying soft against Billy’s thigh, it appealed to him far more than anything he could think of. Lying between Melissa’s chilly legs had never held such appeal. He’d had to learn to like her salty taste and memorize all sorts of tricks to draw her moisture.
With Billy, it seemed all he had to do was pay attention, and his cock started to perk up. Laughing silently, Quinn positioned himself as draped over one leg, his elbow in the space between, and took a careful hold of Billy’s prick. Grasping the base with his hand, he leaned in and pressed a reverent kiss to the tip of the cock he planned on fellating—no, worshiping.
“Yeah,” Billy groaned, pushing with his hand. “Need you.”
Quinn swallowed, then slid his lips over the bulbous head. Billy tasted of soap as well as musk, the slight tang of salt underlying both flavors. He sucked tentatively and was rewarded by the feel of Billy’s cock swelling in his mouth. His hand tightened around the base and began slowly moving up and down, pumping Billy toward greater lengths. He sucked without finesse, but with eagerness for the feel and flavor.
There was no way to do this wrong, was there? Billy had said so. Quinn adjusted himself so that he was draped more comfortably over Billy’s hard thigh, took a better grasp of Billy’s cock and sucked on. He brought his tongue into play, sweeping broad, flat strokes down the length. On an impulse, he lightly scraped the silky skin with his teeth.
Billy bucked and swore.
Oh, so he liked a little pain with his pleasure, did he? Quinn tried using his teeth again, still careful to be gentle, and was rewarded with a hearty groan and a tighter grasp on his hair.
Still, it wouldn’t do to overuse one trick. Quinn returned to using his tongue, learning the surface of Billy’s cock as he went. He traced long veins and flicked across the head. Curious, he dipped beneath Billy’s foreskin, wondering what the skin would feel like. He, himself, was cut. Melissa had approved, but now, he wondered—with a twinge of regret—what it would be like to have this much greater sensitivity.
He probed his tongue into the slit, pushing hard. Billy gasped and began shoving at Quinn’s head. “Off. Come on, get off.”
Quinn withdrew in confusion. He turned his head to one side and blinked up at Billy. “Did I do something you didn’t like? I’m sorry.”
“What are you, nuts?” Billy swore and crushed the stub of his cigarette into the bedside ashtray. “You did everything I liked, and then some. I was about to come, that’s all. Decided I didn’t want to pour down your throat.” He spread his legs, showing off his bobbing erection. “I’ve got other plans for this.”
Quinn’s pulse quickened. He thought he had an idea of how Billy planned to use his cock. “Do you?” he asked shyly.
“Uh-huh.” Billy let out a long sigh of contentment. “God, I love it when someone’s as eager to please as you are. But you know, you can say no any time. Don’t let me push you.”
I want to be pushed. I need your direction. Quinn shook his head, knowing that the tips of his hair must have tickled deliciously. “Tell me what to do. Anything you want.”
“Mmm. Come up here and kiss me, first.” Billy released Quinn’s hair and held his arm out. Quinn awkwardly but eagerly swarmed up into Billy’s grasp, sighing in pleasure as he was caught and held tightly, hot lips on his own, a tongue demanding entrance. He surrendered gladly, letting Billy in, letting him do exactly as he pleased.
He could make Billy happy. Quinn was sure of it. Happy for…no. He wouldn’t let himself think about “how long”.
When Billy let go, his gaze was hot again. He slipped a hand down between them. “You hard, Quinn?” His hand closed around Quinn’s cock and he grunted in satisfaction. “I thought you would be. You get off on getting other people off, don’t you?”
Quinn’s head bobbed on his neck and his eyes dropped to half-mast. He licked his lips and tried a smile. “Whatever you want, Billy.”
“Nuh-uh.” Billy frowned. “This is about what you want. So tell me. What do you want? No guessing what I have in mind. Play fair.”
The command puzzled Quinn. What did he want? To please Billy. Or…did he? Completely and wholly? A desire tugged at him, an emptiness inside he longed to have filled. Did he dare?
He swallowed, steeling his nerve. “Move over,” he said, giving Billy a light push. “All the way to the edge. I need the middle of the bed.”
Billy laughed. “All right. Now we’re getting somewhere.” He moved as directed, shifting his weight until he had to stretch one leg down and brace himself against the floor. Quinn took a moment to appreciate the sight of that monster cock bobbing, then began to move. He squirmed into the center of the bed, deliberately ignoring the spatters of water from their hair and bodies, and tried to remember how this was done.
Ah. Yes.
Bracing his hands against the squeaky mattress, Quinn brought his knees up underneath himself, then raised his ass into the air and presented. As an afterthought, he parted his legs a little to further open himself. In position, he waited breathlessly to see if Billy approved.
Billy’s breath grew heavy. “Oh, man, yes. This is what you want? You so got it, babe.” Quinn felt a hand stroking down his leg to the knee. “Let me get the stuff.”
“Hurry,” Quinn dared to urge, feeling both acutely embarrassed to be so exposed, yet at the same time thrilled by the sensation. He forced his next words through shy lips. “I want to feel you inside me.”
“You will.” Billy pressed a kiss to Quinn’s hip, darting his tongue out to trace a pattern, quick figure-eights on his skin. “I’m dying to get back in there. Just gotta get ready first. I’ll make damn sure you remember me all day long whenever you park your ass.”
Thrills coursed through Quinn. He wiggled, hoping Billy would hurry.
Thankfully, Billy seemed as eager as Quinn. He heard the sound of the bedsid
e table drawer opening, and then some hasty fumbling. Billy gave a muttered exclamation of triumph as he found what he was looking for, then slapped Quinn’s leg encouragingly. “You stay right where you are. My turn to get into place.”
Quinn held still as he’d been directed, no matter how tempted he was to crane his head around and watch Billy. He contented himself with listening, instead, recognizing certain unmistakable sounds. The crinkling of a condom wrapper being opened, Billy’s moan as he slid the latex over his cock, and then the click of a KY tube’s lid.
Quinn jumped a little when he felt the first cold touch of the lubricant poured directly on the heated flesh of his ass. Billy rumbled a low laugh. “Easy, easy,” he soothed. “It’ll warm up.” He began to use his fingers to work the slippery stuff between Quinn’s ass cheeks, dipping in to tease the tightness of Quinn’s hole. “God, you snap back like a rubber band. Just about choked the life out of me last time.” He rubbed his thumb hard, as if leaving a stamp of approval.
When the slick fingers began to stretch him open, Quinn let out a moan and buried his face in his folded arms. His cheek pillowed against unyielding muscle, his teeth ground into his cheek and his ass burned where Billy was working away.
He couldn’t have felt better.
It seemed to take an eternity before Billy was satisfied. Quinn heard the tube of lubricant clicking again, and then slithery sounds—probably Billy slicking down his own cock. “You don’t need to be wet as water,” he dared to tease.
“Smart-ass.” Billy swatted the posterior in question. “Lube is like nail polish. More than one coat recommended.” Quinn felt both hands seize his hips. “You ready for me?”
“God, yes.” Quinn raised a little higher, eager for the feeling of Billy’s cock splitting him open. “Hurry.”
“Pushy bottom.” Billy sounded breathless. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Wish you could see yourself. Hey, wait. Wait, wait, wait.”
Quinn bit back a groan of dismay as Billy scrambled off the bed. He had no idea what the man was up to, but it was delaying the coring that he wanted so badly. Gritting his teeth, he waited for Billy to find whatever he was looking for.
