by Neve Wilder
We walked to the north end of the library, and he pushed open the door to the stairwell, glancing back over his shoulder at me on the landing.
“No. Definitely not here.” I was becoming a broken record of disapproval. Eric’s laughter echoed and bounced around the cinder block walls.
“Nah, though the acoustics are great in here, and I’d love to hear you screaming out my name in surround sound.”
“Who says you won’t be screaming out mine?” I scoffed and traipsed down the stairs after him in long strides.
“I plan for my mouth to be too involved with your cock to manage your name.”
Oh. Well. Damn if that wasn’t an answer that my dick liked. I had no comeback for that.
We went down three flights to the basement.
It was musty down there, rife with the scent of old books and age and mildew, but it was a large, bright space with old fluorescent tube lighting that couldn’t quite keep up with the sheer surface area. This floor was doubly filled with shelves compared to the main floors, and they seemed mostly full of older titles the library wasn’t ready to get rid of yet. It was a little louder, too, a constant low-pitched white noise whir of what sounded like air-conditioning units running. I wasn’t sure. Most people seemed to prefer the big windows, natural light, and newer furnishings of the main floors, but the basement wasn’t empty either. I glimpsed a few clusters of people in some small niches as Eric wound us through the stacks.
He led me deeper among the shelves, toward the back wall of the library, directly below where I’d been sitting upstairs, his movements so sure that I wondered how many times he’d been back here before—which led to me wondering how many others he’d brought down here. I squashed the thought as soon as it made my skin prickle.
Eric shoved me against a bookshelf suddenly, pulling the sucker stick from his mouth, crunching the candy, and then setting the stick on the shelf beside my shoulder. He kept me pinned as he studied me.
“You’re in your head.” His voice was low.
I nodded. My erection had deflated. “Someone will see.”
“No one will see.”
His gaze was still fastened to mine, and I felt my cheeks heat as his other hand dipped low to cup my limp dick. He squeezed, massaged, and rolled his thumb around the head of my cock through my shorts.
He continued stroking me, coaxing my erection back to life while he watched me. My lips parted, my breath quickening as I hardened.
“Oh God.” With a jolt, my hips bucked into his hand, too much fabric between the warmth of his palm and the ache building in my dick.
“Shit yeah,” he murmured, “There you are. Mmm.”
Eric gave me a lazy grin and dropped his forehead to my shoulder, presumably watching his own hand stroke and squeeze the tent in my shorts while I stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do with my hands. Embrace him? I left them at my side and pressed my palms to the shelf. My hips started to roll of their own accord, chasing his touch, pressing into it. He pinched and kneaded my cock, then dropped lower, seeking out my balls, fingers gliding over the slippery fabric of my shorts and making me gasp—though I tried to keep quiet to little huffs of air through my nostrils, afraid if I opened my mouth I’d moan.
Dropping to his knees, Eric reached through the right leg hole of my shorts, bunching up the fabric and pulling me out. Then he wrapped his lips around the head of my cock, and I couldn’t stifle the groan I let out, even when his other hand tightened around my thigh in warning. My fist flew up to my mouth, and I bit my knuckles as he dragged his teeth lightly across the blood-flushed tip of my cock and then flicked his tongue over my slit, lapping up the precome beading in it. Pleasure—hard, striking notes of it—shivered up my spine, oozing through my groin.
“Eric.” It was a hiss of sound again. He had a way of making my speech come out raspy and serpentine.
He pulled off my dick and released the fabric of my shorts down to cover me, gazing up at me with a compliant half-smile on his lips. I shook my head, hands pressing hard against the shelves. “I can’t be quiet, dude, I can’t.”
“You can.” And then he put his finger to his lips, lifting one impertinent brow as he dragged my waistband down just enough to expose me. “Shhh.”
He spit in his palm and started pumping me again, slow, lengthy strokes that sent me rocking onto the balls of my feet. My hips swiveled and shimmied and thrust into his hand as he increased and relaxed pressure. God, he was a maddening, tantalizing bastard. My dick couldn’t keep up with the variation, wasn’t sure if it was coming or going.
“So good,” I sighed out.
Eric pried my hands from where they were gouging into the underside of the shelf and drew them up to the sides of his head. I dug my fingers through his soft strands, sinking into his scalp. He gripped my cock and opened his mouth, smacking my tip against the flat of his tongue while he looked up at me, a wide-eyed, knowing, teasing gaze that made me want to frown at him if only what he was doing didn’t feel so fucking good. He kissed the tip of my cock, swirling his tongue over the head, suctioning with his lips, then pulling off with a soft pop that made me shiver. Another shudder rolled through me, my eyes threatening to bulge out of my sockets as he rubbed my head back and forth over his full lips, glossing them with spit and precome. Jesus, that sight alone promised to be fodder for my solo sessions for weeks to come.
“Go ahead. Fuck my throat.” His voice was a gravel-laced command, even when he was offering himself up to me. God, he was hot. Dirty hot. Filthy hot. The kind of shit I couldn’t even dream up in my own fantasies. The kind that made me feel like I was on the verge of coming every time he opened his mouth and said stuff like that. He could probably snap his fingers and make me come, and if we kept fooling around like this, I had no doubt that’d be on the menu at some point. I could tell he liked how he could manipulate me, but I figured it was fair trade.
My fingers trembled in his hair as he opened his mouth. A gentle nudge of my hips fed my dick past his plump lips, and when I hit the back of his throat, he swallowed, soft tissue closing and opening around me. Impossibly warm, impossibly soft.
“Fuuuuccccckkk,” I whimpered.
His eyes were wide and watering beneath the thick splay of dark lashes, fire in them, raw want and shadow. I pulled out and thrust in again. And again. I’d never fucked anyone’s throat before, not the way I was able to with him—careless and without worrying about choking or gagging him, which I did a couple of times. My hips pistoned as I glided in and out of that wet heat. The inside of his mouth was so hot and slick, the pleasure sharpening to piercing when I hit the drag of his teeth. I closed my eyes, let my head fall back and my dick pummel the back his throat over and over until I felt my orgasm close in. My balls tightened up, and he tugged on them. So close. So, so close. My quads vibrated with the buildup, and my release was within reach. I prepared to see stars, and I couldn’t fucking wait to blast my load into the back of his throat.
All at once Eric ducked away, leaving my dick bobbing as I frantically humped the air.
“Come on,” I growled, irritable with the need to get off and yanking at the strands of his hair, trying to tug him back to me. But Eric only exhaled a quiet laugh as he put his hands on my hips and hauled himself to standing.
“You’re getting mean. Don’t get mean unless you want me to get mean back.”
Another little jolt shot through me, my head filling with vivid imagery of the two of us, our bodies sweating, tangled in violent exertion. I could be down for some rougher stuff. Hell, yeah. But not in a library.
“Turn around.”
“Why?”
He rolled his eyes and took a step back, nudging my shoulder until I reluctantly turned. The weight of his torso pressed against my back, and his hands trailed from my shoulders down the length of my arms, bracketing my wrists and stretching them up to a shelf just above my head. I could feel his erection digging into my ass, and damn did it feel nice.
He put
his mouth to my ear, his stubble tickling the side of my neck. “Because it’s about to get really good. No more questions.” He covered my mouth with his hand, and when I tried to turn my head, his forearm tightened across me. Then he pushed my shorts farther down over my hips and wrapped his hand around me again. I was still slick with precome and his spit, and it took no more than a couple of strokes before I was back on the edge.
The fucker read me too well, though. As soon as I’d start to tense up, he’d let go of my cock and play with my balls. I panted into his palm covering my mouth and kept twisting my hips, trying to spear myself into his fist and get what I needed. A noise of frustration in the back of my throat only earned me his middle and index finger shoved in my mouth.
“Suck,” he said, like I had a choice. “Get ’em wet.”
I sucked, tasting salt and my own precome. He made a sound of approval and started jacking me again. I groaned around his fingers, nerve endings on fire, dick ready to blast a hole through a wall.
“You want these fingers?” He licked the skin of my neck where it joined my shoulder, and my whole body twitched with pleasure, my nails scratching at the shelf as I clung. I nodded and said when he pulled his finger from my mouth, “Whatever you want.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Fucking hell, Eric,” I snapped.
A loud shh! sounded from somewhere in the distance, and I froze.
I could feel Eric’s smile against my neck. I looked around and through the bookshelves but didn’t see anyone. My brain said worst idea ever. My body just wanted Eric to keep touching me, and fuck it if the whole building was watching. I had to get off, needed to get off.
Eric slid his wet fingers down the furrow of my ass, and when he teased over my hole, I responded with a clench and a jump. He let go of my cock and steadied my hip with one hand as he plied my hole with the wet fingers of his other. “I got you, Sanders, relax.”
Easy to say, hard to do when I was ready to jump out of my own skin—both from what he was doing to me and from the erotic thrill of getting off with him in the library. But I tried, rolling my shoulders, focusing on his breath hitting the back of my neck, humid and warm. The hand on my hip feathered a few light strokes that were almost gentle, tender.
“Fuck, you get me so hard, frat boy,” he whispered, that moniker not sounding as derisive as it had the last time we were together. The feeling was mutual, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. Instead, I clenched my jaw as he rubbed the rim of my hole and pushed his middle finger inside, making me tighten up instinctively. The sting made my eyes water, and he went still, as if he knew I needed a second to adjust. Then slowly he eased farther in.
“All right?”
I nodded.
“Good. Shit, you’ve got a grip like a vise. Remember what I showed you last time?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled and bore down as he pushed deeper.
“There we go. Yeah, fuck that’s hot.” He shifted to my side, cock-strained fly of his shorts rocking against my hip. He fingered my ass with one hand while unzipping, and I couldn’t help but slant a look down between my raised arm as his cock popped out, thick with veins and so fucking hard. “Get your hand on me.”
I let go of the shelf, hesitating as my hand fell to my side. This wasn’t what I had planned on. I figured we’d just go off in a corner somewhere, he’d jack me real quick, and I’d get back to work. This was turning into a full-blown…experience like we’d had in my room back at the house. Heat rushed my cheeks and everywhere else just thinking about it, thinking about how he’d fucked me. How much I’d wanted it.
But I hadn’t touched him—not his dick or his hole or really any other part of him—so the prospect of doing so now made me feel…I didn’t know. I didn’t know how the fuck it made me feel, but it was a different level somehow, and that made me nervous. Still, I was aching to come and so damn close that I didn’t want to stop.
So I touched him. He could probably feel the tremor in my fingers as I wrapped them around his silky length, but he didn’t say anything, just exhaled a soft, contented sigh. That little sound gave me the confidence to start jacking him in earnest. Dry, but he didn’t seem to care. He felt…good. Good in my hand, and I liked how his hips jutted forward every time.
“Perfect man, perfect.” And just that string of words had me on edge again.
I bit back a cry as a sharp sting assaulted my cock. My ass clenched around his fingers. He flicked my cockhead again, another lash of pain and then a flare of white-hot pleasure as his finger massaged my prostate.
“That’s just fucking wrong,” I gasped, and he snickered. I completely forgot about stroking him and was just squeezing his dick with no rhyme or reason, though he didn’t seem to mind.
“Just wait, you’re going to blow like Vesuvius.”
“Sounds like that’d solve my issue with that stupid philosophy paper, so I’m all for it.”
He chuckled and shifted, moving to my back once more, where he reached around, gripping my cock and stroking it again. He pulled his finger out of my hole, circled the sensitive, bunched skin, then scraped his thumbnail over it. Lightly, so fucking lightly that my ass couldn’t decide if it was being teased or punished.
Then he plunged in deep again. Over and over. Both of his hands moved in unison, tandem jolts of electricity sizzling up my spine and threatening to wreck me. My hips jerked forward and rocketed back, trying to thrust into his hand and simultaneously spear myself on his finger. I squirmed, wiggled, rocked, and Eric kept on, giving me just barely enough.
“You’re losing it, aren’t you?”
“You noticed?” I panted, sarcasm thick on my tongue. His thumb circled the head of my cock and teased my slit, and I shook my head. My stomach was knotted with need, and sweat was starting to drip down my temples.
“You need more?” I didn’t look at him, but I knew he’d be smiling.
“You already know I do, asshole.”
He smacked his dick against my ass and leaned in, nipping my earlobe. “You want this?”
I didn’t know how I felt about the earlobe nipping, but my dick sure as hell liked what he said.
I groaned. I didn’t and I did with such ferocity I couldn’t even begin to articulate it. A tendril of shame at how much I wanted him roiled through me before I shoved it away and steeled my jaw.
“Yeah, give it to me.”
“Mmm,” he rumbled low, a sound that was almost affectionate, and he pushed up the back of my shirt, stroking his fingers up my spine until I felt the tension in my shoulders relax and I was writhing again. “You look so fucking delicious like this. Your gorgeous back curled over, your ass pushing against me, wanting it, ready for me.”
He gave my bare cheek a light smack that made me jump, and then I heard him rustling around, foil tearing. “C’mere.” He planted his hands on my hips and guided me in a shuffle to the end of the shelf, turning me so I faced it and could brace my hands on either side for more support.
“This way you won’t set off a domino effect when I’m pounding that tight hole,” he explained, and just when I opened my mouth to suggest he consider not pounding me hard enough to topple bookcases, his fingers buried themselves in my crack again, hot and slick with lube, and I lurched. His left hand, also lube slick, draped around my waist and took up my cock, and I was so grateful for the easy slip of his hand that my thighs started quivering as he pumped me a few times.
“Feels good, huh?”
I didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, because my jaw was clenched solid as his fingers slid up and down the crack of my ass, taunting my hole, flicking it, rubbing my taint and plucking at the base of my balls. My breath came in shallow hitches, and I finally dropped my forehead to rest against the shelf, pushing my ass out in the air and giving it over to him. Surrender.
The sound of his laughter coiled around me, like he was having a grand old time driving me to the end of my fraying rope. He let go of my cock, spreading my cheeks, an
d his thumbs coaxed my hole in unison. My whole body was on the precipice of euphoria. His foot nudged mine.
“Wider.”
I adjusted my stance slightly, the elastic waistband of my shorts maxing out over my thighs, and he let out a hiss of sound.
“Goddamn, that’s hot.”
His thumbs circled my hole with more pressure, setting the sensitive skin on fire, and then he pushed them inside. More filling than just one, the collaboration did nothing for the burn. I felt his lips trip up my spine, and soon I was pushing back against him again, fucking his fingers when they replaced his thumbs.
“Perfect,” he whispered. “You ready for me now?”
“Fuck yes.” I was more than ready. I was like a meth head, ready to rip off my own skin just to spite the itch.
He rubbed the head of his cock against my hole a few times until I was practically trying to impale myself on it, except the hand he’d put on my hip kept preventing me.
And then, thank fuck, he was pushing inside me. The burn tore through me, making me wince. So…not as ready as I’d thought I was. He knew that, too, and stroked my hip with his free hand, then brought it up to my shoulder, squeezing the muscles before he pushed in deeper. I let out a muted moan both for the pain and the way he was filling me. Relief and torture at once. He filled me slowly, in little half steps that made me sweat even more. His hand continued to knead my shoulder soothingly. And once he was all the way in, I felt the weight of his body drape over me, his right hand dropping low to splay over my abdomen. My six-pack rippled underneath his touch, and there was possession in the way he stroked over the muscles and held me that I loved. As much as I didn’t want to.
