by Kendall Duke
He pulled away, his chest rising and falling as he looked down at me. “Benji… I want to make sure I do this the right way,” he whispered.
“This is fast,” I answered, nodding my head. His beautiful eyes were hooded as he took me in. I fought the urge to rock back and forth on the rock-hard length of him below, my pussy pressing so tightly against my jeans that the seam in the center rubbed my wet lips.
“Why don’t we go to bed?” He watched me for a second, then picked me up in his arms, sliding them under my ass as I hissed out a breath and clung to his neck. I kissed him again, then wondered if we would make it upstairs when he pushed his plate out of the way and sat me down on the edge of the table. I slipped my hands under his shirt and felt his hard belly, Leo gently biting my lower lip as I gasped and then bit back. We were on each other, sinking into the kiss until my elbows hit the table and reality came rushing back. “Come on, Benji,” he whispered, kissing my forehead as he crouched over me; I was almost ready to tell him to just fuck me on the table, but then he kissed my cheek—so sweet, that kiss, and then one more on my lips. “It’s really late. I didn’t mean it l-like that. You should sleep on this.”
“I don’t think I want to,” I told him, and it took him a really long time to move. When he did, he pulled me upright and looked into my eyes.
“I l-like you too Benji,” he said, his voice much huskier than its usual low register, “a l-l-lot. And this matters so much to me. I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, kissing my lips again and withdrawing before I could disappear into the feel of him. “I want to take my time, and I want to hear you ask for it.”
A ripple of anticipation ran through my body at his words.
That was a good standard. I wasn’t ready to ask for it out loud yet, I realized, and nodded up at him; I felt ready, but if I wasn’t able to commit myself fully, completely, with no reservations, then he wasn’t. And that felt good.
He picked me up. We started moving down the hallway locked in an embrace, and only made it halfway to the stairs before he had me up against the wall, my back arching as he pressed up against me. We were both fighting to catch our breath. Silently, he stopped, kissed my lips, and let me down. I walked by myself, him behind me as we went up the stairs, and I heard him groan softly when my ass was level with his face.
I was tempted to stop walking, but kept it together. He was right.
Even if I only made it another eight hours, I wanted to do this thoughtfully. Because I had this feeling that I might never do it with anyone else, ever again. And weirdly… I was okay with that.
I really, really liked Leo.
I turned at the door to my bedroom and looked up at him. “Will you… Is it okay if you sleep in my bed?”
He raised an eyebrow, then reached out and ran his finger along my jaw. “Is it?”
“Yes,” I said, deciding, and led him inside. I sat on the edge of my mattress and watched him undress in the dim light of the approaching dawn, the sun only an hour away from peeking over the horizon outside my window. I pulled off my jeans, and the two of us stared at each other.
He was… Perfect. Lean. Built. Firm, hard muscles, defined and exquisite. His eyes burned in the dark as he stood there, watching me. We were both barely wearing anything, only the most private parts covered.
“Let’s get some rest,” he finally said, and moved towards me. I slid over on the bed, making room, and then we lay down facing one another on the bedsheet as the sunlight grew brighter in the sky outside, making his strong features stand out more and more as the shadows retreated. It’d been a really long night. Finally, his gaze still raking over my body, I felt my eyelids closing. Almost without my permission, my body yielded to sleep, and I surrendered at last.
I woke up to find him gazing at me from under those lashes. It wasn’t that late; we didn’t sleep more than five hours, maybe four. I felt like I’d missed him for each one anyway, even tucked into the crook of his arm, which is where I found myself.
First things first. I’d dreamed about this all night, and I wasn’t the patient type. Leo softly inhaled as I stirred, as if he were expecting me to start the day running.
Good thinking.
“So tell me,” I said, rolling to face him, “and I’m not asking to fuck with you—I’m asking because I have to know. I have listened to that album a million times. A hundred million.”
“Ugh, Benji—” Leo moaned and pulled a pillow over his head, but I yanked it away and cuddled against his ribs, bringing my face closer to his.
“What is the Kissing Game?”
“Why do you want to know?” He was flat on his back, and his goddamn hair was pulled back behind his forehead; I could see his face so clearly, every scar and freckle and the irresistible, perfect shape of his lips. His eyelashes were so thick they almost looked crowded, so long they fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked down at me.
“I… I’m not trying to pick your scabs,” I said, thinking about it. “I just… Your reaction yesterday was so extreme, and yet you’re proud of it. You hate something about it, so much so that I feel like that’s the reason you ended up with Tony fronting the band.” He stared at me. “I’m serious. Someone with talent like yours doesn’t need a front man for any reason unless they hate the spotlight, and if you hate the spotlight, there’s a reason why.”
“I stutter,” he said, frowning at me, and I thought it over.
“Sure, but that still doesn’t explain the ambivalence you have about that album.” I took a different tact. “Why are you proud of it?”
“Well, I think it came out pretty good,” he said slowly, his modesty touching. It won many critic’s choice awards; it wasn’t just a pet favorite of my own. There were a lot of people like me.
“That’s very coy, Leo.”
“It’s a good album,” he said, shrugging. I tucked in further, and he wrapped one arm around my back, the other one reaching across his chest to tease my hair away from my face. “I love it too. It was… Important for me to make it. But it’s hard to talk about.”
“Because it actually means something to you. Unlike all of Groovebone’s other albums.”
“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to say that word any more,” he said, raising an eyebrow at me. It was ridiculously charming. “It’s very unbecoming of a l-lady.”
“Good thing I’m not a lady then,” I snorted, and he grinned at me. We gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment, losing the thread, but then I shook my head and went back to it. “Come on, Leo. I’m curious, sure. But I also… I want to understand you better.”
He sighed, a long, deep echo I could hear in his broad chest as he thought it over for a moment. After that I could feel him pulling away—not physically, at first. But almost as if the connection we had was slowly withdrawing into his body, as if he needed to be separate from me to revisit his life. He moved away on the bed, then sat against the headboard with the pillows piling around him and leaned against the wall. I sat up and crossed my legs, pulled my t-shirt over my knees, and waited. I hated that he was so far away. Nothing to do but work through it together.
“It was a real game,” he finally said, the sunlight sparkling through the room. “Tony invented it in seventh grade. This was back when everybody first started to hang out at parties with both boys and girls—you remember that age?” I nodded, and he sighed again. I managed to refrain from reaching out to hold his hand, knowing he wanted the space between us, but it was hard. “Everybody put their names on a piece of paper and dropped them in a jar, a hat, whatever. And then you pulled out the name—nothing too progressive, boys with girls and girls with boys,” he said, smiling briefly before it faded, his memory clearly raw. “And the game is simple. They point to two places on their body,” he explained, and picked up his arm and pointed to wrist, then his chin. “And you guess which place is the one they l-like to be kissed more.”
“Sounds like typical innocent seeming hormone driven nonsense,” I said, an
d he nodded.
“It didn’t stay innocent, if you and your partner didn’t want it to, and if you did, it went nowhere.” His smile was long gone. “Also could be a drinking game, I should explain. So if you chose the wrong place, sometimes you drank.”
“Okay,” I said, “I’m still not seeing how—”
“So most of the time, my name would just… Get l-l-lost,” he said softly, watching me. “Nobody wanted to play with me. So if someone got my name, they either put it back or dropped it on the ground. It was middle school, so nobody was subtle about it either—everyone would pair off, and then there I would be, by myself.” I winced, imagining it; kids were so cruel. “But one time…” Leo ran his fingers through his hair, and it fell back over his face. He stared down at his hands as if his scarred knuckles were telling him a fascinating story. “I was in ninth grade by then. And I guess Tony was feeling mean—or hell, maybe he thought he was being nice? I don’t know. Anyway. This girl I had a big crush on got my name, and Tony pointed it out before she could get rid of it, or whatever. And so she had to play w-w-with me.”
“No she didn’t,” I said, already worried about the end of this story. He shook his head.
“Well, she kind of did, in the way you feel l-l-like you have to do something everybody else is doing when you’re that age. I’d mostly given up playing—I guess Tony put my name in, because I didn’t.” His chin dropped a little lower. “So we played. I was excited, at first. I started with easy things, l-like the back of her h-hand, her elbow. But then she started…” He bit his lip. “She started l-l-laughing. And she just stopped pointing at whichever spot… She didn’t want to play with me, so she embarrassed me instead. We were in the middle of the room, and everybody was watching us. She kept prompting me to talk, to say what body part, so that I w-would stutter.”
“It couldn’t have gone on too long,” I whispered, hoping, and he shrugged.
“It didn’t matter,” he said. “I never wanted to go anywhere after that. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, to go to a party, the movies, nothing. Just being in public was p-painful. She tried to talk to me at school the week after, but I… I couldn’t imagine speaking in front of her again. So I didn’t.”
The song that won the most awards was called Silence. Suddenly, I understood it a lot better.
“Leo…” I thought hard, then reached over for his hand. He let me tug it towards myself; I needed the comfort, even if he didn’t. “Did you ever think that Tony might have been keeping your name out of the game? Maybe the other kids weren’t the ones who lost it. Maybe he did.” I blinked up at him. “I mean, Leo, not to be shallow, but you’re hot. Even in middle school, I’m sure there were lots of girls that would’ve loved a kiss—innocent or not—from you.”
“I don’t…”
“Tony probably had something to do with that, too,” I said, mulling it over. “Did he ever date this girl? Did she have a crush on him by any chance?”
“They went out in eighth grade,” Leo said, chewing on his lip. “Tony didn’t give a shit about her until—”
“Until he found out you liked her,” I said, nodding. “Yeah. I hate to undermine the themes of adolescent loss, loneliness and outsider status so eloquently explored in my favorite album, but I’m pretty sure you should’ve titled The Kissing Game something like Tony is a Jealous Asshole instead.”
He stared at me. “Jesus, Benji. You might be right.”
“I’m definitely right,” I said, offering him a small smile. “He probably set that whole thing up. And then maybe he felt bad, and he started playing music with you. Or he didn’t feel bad, and he’s a total sociopath—I honestly don’t know,” I told him, “but the guy is bad news. And a bunch of girls back in your home-town missed out on a very fun game with a very hot guy.”
“Nah,” he said softly, but he was watching me with a thoughtful expression.
“I think you should reclaim the Kissing Game,” I told him, sitting up straighter. The sunlight was pouring in, the whole room rosy and the air crisp and golden. Mid-morning light favored Leo even more than the stark shadows of the evening, and his olive skin glowed in it. He pushed his hair back again and I lifted my weight onto my knees and leaned forward, raking my fingers through his bangs to move them all the way off of his face. He let me, holding perfectly still with hooded eyes. I felt my pulse quicken. “You should play with me.” I felt like my fingers might ignite if I kept touching him, and nervously pulled back to perch on the bed. Leo eyed me and crossed his muscled arms.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why?”
“Well, you’re… I don’t think you’re ready,” he said, and bit his lip.
The sight of his fine, white teeth sinking into that full bottom lip sent sparks showering over my skin. “Why don’t you let me decide what I’m ready for?” I pretended nonchalance and shrugged, raising an eyebrow at him. “I mean, that’s the point of the game, right? It can be innocent.”
He raised both of his eyebrows and re-crossed his arms. “Mmm-hmm.”
“So come on, Leo,” I said, and a ripple of excited pleasure ran over my skin, drowning out the last bit of misgiving that lingered inside of me. “Play with me.”
Leo sat like that for a long time. Very long. So long that I crept a tiny bit closer, took a deep breath, and pointed to the palm of my hand.
His eyebrows shot up—I don’t think they’d played like that in middle school; I think the boys were always the pursuers, which was typical macho bullshit. But this way he wouldn’t have to wonder if he was crossing any boundaries with me, breaking any of my rules.
And I planned to alter the rules of the game as I liked, just like I did in life. The Kissing Game needed a make-over, and I was good with rule breaking—particularly if I was the one doing it.
I pointed to the inside of my wrist, and for a second, I wondered if he was going to play. With a deep inhale, Leo pointed to his wrist, clearly wondering what I would do next.
I crawled over his long legs, our skin gently rubbing in the odd spot as I gingerly reached his lap and picked up his wrist. I pressed my lips to the warm skin and felt his pulse beat against me, our eyes locked on one another. Then I set his hand back down and moved away.
Leo’s eyes were wide now. He looked… I don’t know. It was new—it was a different expression from any he’d had so far. He looked… Younger. As if some of the years were taken away from him.
I pointed to the tip of one index finger with the other, and then reached down and pointed to the top of my toe. He smiled and wiggled his finger at me.
I came back, crawling over his long body; this time, his eyes were hooded as I approached, his gaze more animalistic. It inspired me, and when I was close enough and he reached out to me, giving me his finger, I didn’t use my hand to hold it. I opened my mouth and gently sucked the tip, watching his pupils dilate as he stared at me. Then I backed away again, feeling triumphant, if a little shy.
Leo was turned on.
I pointed to my knee, and then my ear. It took him a moment, but then he chose his ear; I crept over to him, making sure not to sit in his lap so that the distance between our bodies remained, and nipped his earlobe. I heard the slow hiss of his breath, and followed a slow, straight path along his throat with my tongue before sucking on his earlobe again. His chest was rising and falling, the breath pulsing in and out, as I went back to the end of the bed. Leo’s lips were parted. My heart was racing.
I pointed to my sternum, and then my hip. His eyes were black, the pupil was so expanded, as he stared at the thin strap of my underwear. I wondered if he could see the damp spot I was sure would be visible from the right angle, and then decided that was okay with me. This was all… Perfect.
The Kissing Game was exactly how I wanted to lose my virginity.
Leo pointed to his sternum, his eyes following my every move as I crawled across the bed. I got to his chest and kissed him, just once, in the deep divot between his pronounced pectoral m
uscles; his face was so close. He held perfectly still. I leaned over and teased his nipple with the very tip of my tongue—just the quickest, daintiest little lick, and when I leaned back I was treated to a simmering stare, Leo so turned on and so hard I had to arc my body over his cock. I leaned away, then quickly darted back and licked his other nipple, as fast as I could, before playfully scampering back to the end of the bed.
He looked so fucking hot.
He looked like he wanted to rip my clothes off and fuck me against the wall—and the thought made me happy. It thrilled me, down to my bones. I was ready, I knew I was.
Leo swallowed, waiting, and I pointed to my lips and then my cheek. Carefully, as if he understood that I was almost done playing, he pointed to his plump bottom lip.
I took my time climbing towards him. When I reached his erect cock, I didn’t arch over it, this time; I slowly slid the groove of my pussy along it as I moved towards him on my knees, inch by inch. His eyes pinched shut, his mouth open as he felt me, the friction almost painful. When he opened them to look at me again, I gently sat down, pressing his cock along the entire seam of my body, and leaned forward to kiss him.
And this time, I didn’t want it to stop. I reached down and picked his hands up, placing them on my hips, a signal that this was the beginning for me. I wanted him; I wanted him to be my first. And my only, but I didn’t have the courage to say that yet—I could barely think it. But the idea warmed me from the inside out, and I leaned in to press my lips to his.
Leo’s fingers flexed and gently caressed me as he kissed me back; our tongues sought one another, tasting each other, and in less than five seconds I was riding the ridge of his cock while I moaned into his kiss, his hands kneading my ass as I ground my breasts into his chest. We were right where we’d stopped last night, except that this time I knew, I was absolutely sure, I didn’t want to stop again. I wanted him inside of me, and I knew he could tell that too.
And then—he pulled away.
“Wha?” I was so shocked I blinked, but he gave me the sexiest little smirk, flexed his hips under me one more time so that my head fell back as the pressure rocked through my body…
