by Tanya Chris
“I couldn’t bother you with it.”
“Yes, you could, but you did OK yourself. You did the right thing. It was a long night, but it’s over now. Let it go.”
I nodded against his chest. I wanted that—to let the night go so I could just be here.
“How about I bring you to bed? You need to get some sleep.”
I agreed to the idea of bed, so long as he came too. Somehow he stood up with me still cradled in his arms and carried me there.
“I can walk.” I felt more self-conscious about being carried now that I wasn’t hysterical.
“Humor me. Holding you is keeping my hands busy so I don’t hunt down Lissie and use them to throttle her. Which would not be helpful.”
“Don’t be mad at Lissie. You both mean too much to me.”
“Let’s not worry about Lissie right now. I want to concentrate on you.”
He set me on the edge of the bed and knelt down to untie my shoes. I pulled my t-shirt off over my head and unfastened the button on my jeans. When he had my shoes off, I wiggled out of my jeans, leaving my boxers on. Inside of them, my cock unfurled with the touch of his hands on my calves as they pulled my jeans off over my feet.
Joshua stood up and swung me onto the bed. He leaned across me to pull the sheet up. I grabbed for his shoulder.
“Stay with me?”
“Really?”
I didn’t know how else to ask.
“OK,” he said, reading the request on my face. “Slide over.” I scooted towards the center of the bed and he got in next to me, fully dressed. I closed the gap between us, putting a hand on his chest and raising my face up where I could see him.
“Go to sleep, Nate.” He sounded impatient, like he didn’t want to be stuck in this bed with me. I rolled onto my back and looked up at the ceiling, aware of him next to me but not touching me. I wanted him to take the lead, to make it easy for me, but he didn’t. I was going to have to take this leap myself. It was time to just go get it.
I rolled towards him even as he rolled toward me, a question on his lips. Without pausing, I flung myself into him, taking advantage of his already-open mouth, crashing my own mouth into it. My kiss lacked any kind of finesse. It was pure, fear-driven desperation. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, my hands finding their way to that soft swath of hair. The rasp of his short beard against my chin was a new sensation, the firm fullness of his lips under mine exactly what I’d known it would be. Soft. Hard.
Skin-to-skin. That was what was missing. I tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, sliding my hands along his torso as I moved the fabric out of the way. God, he was so hard. So soft. I took my mouth from Joshua’s to finish the job of removing his shirt, my eyes opening to meet his.
“Nate.” He rolled me onto my back. He took both of my hands in one of his and pulled them over my head, using the weight of his body to still me. Our gasping breaths mingled, our mouths hung only inches apart.
I tugged my hands free of his grasp and took his head in both my hands and brought it down to me, recapturing his sensual mouth. I moaned from the sensation of silky smooth lips running against mine and thrust my hips up. His cock was a hard lump behind his jeans, angled downward, not aligning with mine when I tried to grind them against each other. Frustrated I moved my hands to his waistband, only to find them captured again.
“Wait.”
“I don’t want to wait. I need you.” I thrust up with my hips again and moaned when we made better contact this time. “Help me.” I’d never seduced a man. I had no idea how to do it.
Joshua closed his eyes, letting me kiss and nibble freely at his mouth. When he opened them again, the hunger in them was so strong, I shuddered in response. It was on. Thank God.
He had more hands than seemed possible—strong hands roughing and smoothing over every part of me, his mouth chasing the moving target of my desire, now biting at my neck, now suckling at my nipples, now nipping at the indentation above my hip.
My hands stroked over whatever they could find, my mind dark and heavy under the spell he wove. It was like being devoured, like being claimed. I struggled to keep my eyes open, to watch it happen, but then my neck arched and there was nothing to see except the ceiling above me as everything below my neck contracted into a single point of need centering on my cock.
I could hear myself repeating his name as my hands tried to steer his mouth to where I needed it, but he was too strong to steer, too hungry to skip any morsel on his way to the main course, and so I squirmed futilely, waiting. I gasped when his mouth finally met my cock, my hips coming up off the bed to thrust deeper into him.
Joshua chuckled. He wrapped both arms firmly around my thighs and waist, his hands meeting at the base of my cock, his forearms exerting downward pressure. Knowing that I couldn’t move gave me the freedom to struggle all I wanted. Abandoning any pretense of control, I twisted and writhed in his arms as his tongue and mouth worked me from root to tip. So hard. So soft. So good.
I came with a silent scream, the spasms ripping through me, driving my come down his throat. My ragged breathing filled the bedroom. Needing the connection I craved, I pulled on his shoulders, urging him upward. I kissed him for what felt like eternity, our mouths soft and slow now, the flavor of come passing between us. Yes, exactly like this. How could I have thought I wouldn’t want it?
I ran a hand down his abdomen, aiming for his cock, but he caught it and stopped it and brought it back up to his chest. He settled me under his arm. His thumb traced the tears that had run down my cheek.
“Let me—”
“Shh, not right now. Go to sleep, sweet pea. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Chapter 25
I woke alone in the shade-darkened room. Twelve-thirty. I’d been asleep a few hours. I was hungry and tired and sad, but my body carried the memory of what Joshua had made me feel as a buffer. I pulled my jeans on over my bare ass and went in search of him. He was in the kitchen, standing at the sink, looking out the window. He didn’t turn when I came in, but he spoke.
“You must be hungry. Breakfast or lunch?”
“Whatever’s easier. You don’t have to wait on me. I could go pick something up.” I could sense something wrong in the back turned to me and the carefully polite voice.
“I’ll scramble some eggs.”
I sat down at the kitchen table and watched him work with his usual efficiency but without his usual flow. There was a jerky irritation to his movements. He dropped off a plate of eggs and went back to the window. I tried to eat, my hunger fading in the face of confused unhappiness, each forkful seeming to take more effort than the last.
“Are you sorry about what happened?” I asked finally. It couldn’t be anything else.
He nodded, his back still to me. He braced his hands on the sink and dropped his head. Even without seeing his face, I could feel his pain. I tried to fight through the fear of rejection to understand where I’d gone wrong, how I’d caused yet another person I cared about to end up miserable.
“And you’re mad at me?”
“No, I understand where you were at. It’s a natural human reaction. When we’re frightened and alone, we reach out to whoever’s there. Sex confirms we’re alive and on some level OK, no matter how fucked up things may actually be. I was the sane one in the moment. Or maybe not so sane, I don’t know, but I should’ve acted more sane, been more responsible. I’m sorry. I am sorry. I said it before and I did it again, so there’s no reason for you to believe me, but I am.”
Not sorry because he didn’t want it. Guilty because he thought I didn’t want it.
I wrapped my arms around his back and laid my cheek against his. With all the assurance I could muster, I told him: “I wanted that. I wanted you. I wasn’t drunk, I wasn’t deluded. I knew exactly what I was doing.”
I put my mouth on his, bringing all my game this time—nipping, sucking, lingering—showing him that there was more here than naked lust. I wasn’t sure whether he kissed me b
ack, but I was sure of the rising hardness against my hip.
“Come back to bed with me.” I laced a hand through his and tugged. “We have outstanding business to take care of.”
“Like what?”
I cupped his cock through his jeans. “Like this.”
I pulled him the rest of the way into the bedroom, then undressed him. He cooperated but he didn’t contribute. He was about halfway hard when I pressed him back onto the bed. I shucked off my own jeans and lowered myself on top of him. Nerves shot through me.
OK, I told myself, begin at the beginning. There was a mouth in front of me. Kiss the mouth. After a moment, Joshua kissed back, his hands coming up to frame my head. Taking that as a good sign, I shifted to his neck. I didn’t yet know where his erogenous zones were, so I took my time finding out. The back of the neck, apparently. When I bit him there, he arched up off the bed, his cock a lot more than half-hard, a choked moan making its way through his pressed lips.
I continued exploring my way down. Man nipples. Funny. So flat against his chest, no squishy breasts beneath them, but hard like thumbtacks poking up at me. Biting seemed to be the answer there as well, if that noise was any indication.
Down to his stomach, to that delicious contrast of rock-hard abs covered by satin-soft skin. My mouth glided over the sweat-slick flesh. Hm, ticklish here. Possibly useful information under other circumstances, but not the reaction I was looking for just then.
And now I came to it. A cock. It wasn’t as though I’d never seen or touched a cock before—I had one of my own—but I’d never managed to get mine in my mouth, despite some teenaged attempts. I knew what a good blowjob felt like. I’d seen as much as could be seen from above with a fog of pleasure coating my vision. I had solid knowledge about what a tongue could do to a clit.
It all seemed inadequate.
I regarded the cock in front of me—nicely symmetrical, darker than the skin on Joshua’s abdomen, longer than my own with a plump head, circumcised. A pretty cock. What to do with it, that was the question.
I took a deep breath and dove in. And must have immediately done something wrong because Joshua pulled my head away and dragged me up over his body until we were face to face.
“I need to talk,” he said through the heaviness of his breath.
“OK.”
“You’re sucking my dick?”
“I was trying to. I got interrupted. Was I doing it wrong?”
He ignored that last question. “And you’re OK with kissing me now?”
I kissed him until the answer was obvious.
“No take-backs, no regrets, no bloody morning after,” Joshua demanded, when he got his mouth free again.
“Not from me, but ...” As long as we were talking, I might as well delve into my own insecurities. “I know you don’t get into relationships with men, so please tell me this won’t screw up our friendship. We don’t have to keep having sex, but we’ll still be friends, right?”
“If friends is my only choice, sure. But be warned that if there’s a choice with sex in it, I’m going to choose that one.”
“I might be a disappointment.” I had other insecurities I couldn’t yet voice.
“Sweet pea.” Joshua shook his head. “You talk too much. I believe you’ve got a dick to suck.”
Well, and so I did. My own erection had softened during the distraction of our conversation but he was still surprisingly hard against my thigh. Not giving myself a chance to succumb to my nerves again, I headed straight for it.
I started in slower this time, not trying to gulp it all down in one swallow. There were some things I knew: wet was nice, friction was nice, teeth were bad. So, some licking all over to get it wet—that was fairly comparable to what I did with pussy—then start with general stimulation, gentle all-over contact before focusing too specifically on the hot zones.
I wished Joshua wasn’t circumcised. It made the whole exercise extra foreign because even my hands, which had had plenty of practice stroking dick, weren’t sure what to do.
Wetness, that was the key. Don’t apply friction to anything dry. My foreskin could be used to shield my cock head from direct stimulation, but Joshua would need extra lubrication. I tried to be as drooly/slurpy as I could, allowing my hands to trail lightly through the wetness as they followed my mouth. I added some suction and quickly found my teeth making unintended contact. Damn, this took more coordination than I’d realized.
With women, it wasn’t about the technique at all. It was about loving the flesh, worshiping at the altar of her body, being present.
What did Joshua need from me? To know that I was enjoying myself, probably, to not be weighing current pleasure against future drama.
I softened. I softened my mouth, I let my shoulders flow down my back. I sighed a satisfied sigh against his cock. He didn’t need me to do this perfectly. He just needed to know I wanted to be doing it.
His hand came down onto my head with my sigh and his head lifted off the bed. I looked up at him and smiled around his cock and then hummed a yummy sound deep in my throat because the moment was delicious.
He dropped his head back onto the pillow and said ‘fuck’ and something shifted in his response. His cock hardened under my tongue and his balls drew up higher in my hands. I slowed down the must-get-there drive in my tempo and shifted into exploration mode. What made him moan? How much rhythm did it take to send him into overdrive? What happened when the rhythm stopped? How close could I push him?
It was all trial and error, but some things worked and his response was lovely. He wasn’t very vocal during our threesomes, not much more than a final grunt escaping his lips, but now he repeated my name, over and over, in different variations: now soft, now urgent, now desperate, now pleading.
“Nate,” he said, and this time he said it with reluctance, like something being dragged out of him. His hips tossed restlessly against the sheet. “If you don’t want—”
I shook my head without removing it from his dick. I did want. As if that minor extra movement, or perhaps the permission, were all he needed, Joshua came with a whimper. Warm wetness flooded my mouth.
I’d tasted my own semen, so the salty tang didn’t surprise me, but I’d never nearly choked myself with it. Didn’t they say it was only a couple of teaspoons? Felt like more running uncontrolled down my throat. I pulled his dick out of my mouth and coughed.
“You OK?”
“Was I OK?” I asked in return.
“It wasn’t the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten,” he said in that dude-to-dude competitive tone I loved so much, “but it was the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten from a straight guy.”
“Bi guy.”
He cupped my balls, drawn up tight beneath my erection. “Yeah, maybe you’re a bit bi.”
I was definitely hard, harder than I’d been when I’d started, harder even than I’d been that morning. Watching Joshua go wild beneath my hands and mouth had been hot as fuck.
“My turn,” he said. “And I get to enjoy it this time. No guilt, no fear. Just your cock in my mouth because you want it there.”
“Now who’s talking too much?”
In response, he flipped me on my back and gobbled me up, rendering me breathless with the speed and ferocity of his consummation. I struggled to keep track of what he was doing, wanting to learn so I could play it back, but the heady possession soon overwhelmed me. I gave in to his onslaught, coming with a groan of relief when he finally allowed it.
He sat up between my legs and pumped his own resurrected cock quickly, his expression focused. He grunted, his eyes flickering shut, and a few short shots of come pumped out of him onto my stomach.
I watched sleepily as he ran a finger through the semen trail and fed what he’d picked up into my mouth. I sucked his finger clean then reached my arms up. He pounced on me, laughing. We kissed as the rest of his come smeared between us.
“Lucky there wasn’t much left in there,” I said.
He laughe
d again, a giddy, goofy grin plastered on his face. He lowered his head and lapped my stomach clean.
“I can’t believe I’m touching you like this. I can’t believe you’re OK with me touching you like this.”
“I’m still not sure how all this works, but I do know I want us to be free to touch—when we’re with Sherry, when we’re not with Sherry.”
“When we’re at the theater?”
“Yes. I’m sorry about Thursday. For what it’s worth, I’m not afraid of what people are going to think. For one thing, they won’t think anything. They’re theater people. Two guys together is old news. You and I will be good gossip for about three days. With the whole Deb thing going on, maybe not even that.”
“Then what, then? You’re better right now, but twenty minutes ago I could still see fear in your eyes.”
“Oh, that.” I looked up at the light fixture glowing brightly over my head. “I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about that.”
“You’re worried about getting fucked in the ass, aren’t you?”
I rolled my head onto his chest, feeling the rumble of his chuckle beneath me. He stroked a hand down my back and cupped my butt.
“You know, sex acts aren’t tied to sexual orientation. Some guys do ass play, some don’t. There are plenty of other ways to get each other off.”
“You do it though. You fucked that guy opening night.”
“Yeah, I had something I needed to get out of my system that night, for sure, but it’s not the norm with me. You ever fucked anyone in the ass?”
“I tried once. It didn’t go well.”
“Sherry’s up for it when she’s in the right mood. Don’t just jump in there without asking.”
“That was why it didn’t go well the one time I tried it.”
