Chapter 4
“Strip,” I said as soon as we got into the bedroom.
“You too.” He peeled off the rest of his clothes in a few efficient movements while I was still unbuckling my pants.
“Bed.” I pointed to the quilt-covered double bed. Giving orders was kind of fun. If he wanted toppy and commanding, I could deliver that.
God, he looked good spread out on my blue and green quilt, like a treasure washed up on my shore—all gleaming skin and rippling muscles and an inviting grin that made me rip the rest of my clothes off. I loved how his skin glowed in the light from my bedside lamp. My room was small to begin with—just my bed, a single bedside table, and the dresser—but having Lance in it made the space cozier somehow.
I fumbled in the nightstand for what we’d need, tossing the condoms and lube on the bed. My hand hit something else.
“You want weed?” I asked. I was mainly a top, but if I bottomed, I preferred being high. It made everything all soft and floaty. And after the mad dash for orgasm the first time around, a lazy energy strummed through me, slowing my hands and mind. I wanted something more than a quick and dirty fuck for Lance.
“You have weed?” He propped himself up on his elbows.
“I own a vegan coffee shop in Portland. I’m pretty sure it’s required by my union.”
“I’ve never . . . um. No, thanks.” His cheeks flushed and his lips looked like they couldn’t decide whether to smile or frown. He kept his eyes on my package, and I couldn’t tell whether it was awe or nerves in his eyes.
“It’s cool.” I stretched out behind him on the bed. “Anything else you haven’t done? Now would be an excellent time to tell me if you’re a virgin.” I’d made my voice as stern as possible. I did not need to discover he was a virgin midfuck, and I was not going to be his training wheels.
His laugh was exactly the answer I needed. Relieved, I lightly tickled his sides, earning another chuckle. Pulling his back against my front, I kissed the back of his neck, right below where his short hair ended. His skin tasted salty from all the dancing, and I wanted to lick him like a Popsicle from head to toe, searching out more of that earthy taste.
“I’ve done it plenty. I’m just . . . choosy is all.”
“Choosy is good.” I liked knowing he was selective far more than I should. I let my hand wander farther south, into his neatly trimmed patch of hair, resting my hand just above his cock, not actually touching it. “And you mainly choose small-dicked dudes?”
“Forget I said anything earlier.” His laugh reverberated through him, made him shake against me. He smelled good, like sweat and fruity drinks.
“Oh, no, I’m keeping that compliment.” Nestling up close to him, I wedged my cock against his ass. Rocked my hips a few times until my pulse revved like my Harley at a stoplight, ready to take off.
Being with Lance reminded me of long-forgotten moments of discovery—the years when sex had been new, and just being naked with someone was both terrifying and thrilling. I could happily get off like this, rubbing against his ass, savoring the little shivers that raced through him when I bit at his neck and shoulders.
“Do it.” Lance bucked his hips into my middle, clearly not on board with my take-our-time mind-set.
“You like getting fucked, huh?” I stroked the vee where his hip and abs met. I’d never really found that area particularly sexy before, but Lance’s calendar boy muscle definition made all sorts of usually overlooked areas ridiculously sexy.
“Oh, yeah.” He pushed back into me. Boy sure wasn’t shy about showing me what he wanted. Grabbing my hand, he put it on his cock. “All last week I fantasized about you fucking me.”
His words went straight to my dick, little licks of pleasure as potent as his tongue. I rolled away, going up onto my knees as I reached for the lube, got some on my fingers. I still wasn’t in any particular hurry. This was the most fun I’d had in years, talking and teasing with Lance, and much as I wanted to be buried balls deep in him, I didn’t want this playful part to end.
I licked a meandering trail between his shoulder blades. Lord, even his shoulders were defined. I had muscle from lifting stuff for work, and I’d always been a pretty lean guy, but Lance made me feel downright flabby.
“What’s your favorite way to get done?” Still on my knees, I worked a lubed finger around his rim, loving his swift intake of breath.
“Are we going to get this going?” He bumped his ass into my hand.
“Haven’t you figured out yet you can’t boss me around?” I withdrew my hand, leaving him humping nothing but air. “If you’re not going to speak up, I’m just going to get a lot more . . . patient.”
I asked because I had this ridiculous urge to be the best for him. Wanted to show him things those college boys hadn’t. But the more ridiculous urge was this . . . need to know more about him; my head was filled with questions, some serious, some silly. All unnecessary for what was supposed to be a fast hookup, but then my brain had always been made of massive fail where casual was concerned.
“Only ever done it on hands and knees or bent over something, but this side thing is totally working for me, if you would please, please get it in me.” His words were as frantic as his movements. He’d pulled the flannel sheet loose with his thrashing.
I rewarded him by returning my fingers to his rim. My movements got more deliberate as I worked him open.
“Yes. That.” He moaned, a raw, needy sound. I added a second finger, following the lead of his insistent hips and hungry eyes as to what he liked.
“More,” he protested when I withdrew my fingers.
“So bossy,” I chided as I put on a condom and lubed it up. I settled in behind him, maneuvering his solid but surprisingly malleable body until we were both resting on our sides, his back to my front.
“Like this?” His ass nudged my cock, firm flesh sliding against my only-too-ready dick. “I like this already.”
I laughed. God, he was fun in bed. “How about you let me get in, then you tell me how much you love it?” I held my cock steady, slowly pressing the head against his rim. “Push back when you’re ready.”
“Oh. Oh, yeah.” He rocked his hips down, breathing hard. “God, you’re a fucking monster.”
“Want to stop?” I really wasn’t that hung, but I loved how he made me feel like some sort of sex god, the way he was grunting and straining to take me.
“Hell no.” He pushed back a little more, letting me slide deeper. He was tight, but it wasn’t a sharp, not-gonna-work pinch.
My laugh this time was so deep my dick jiggled. I didn’t think I’d ever laughed this much with sex. Being with him felt so good—like the first spring motorcycle ride, blue sky and green hills and warm sunshine chasing away every last drop of winter rain.
“So huge.” His nostrils flared and beads of sweat ran down his forehead. “God, I want . . . love this.”
“Oh, yeah. One of my favorite positions.” I’d chosen this one because it gave him a fair amount of control and minimized my ability to go too hard or too deep. He bent his leg, gripping his hard-muscled thigh with his big hand to hold himself open, giving me more access to that tight, compact ass. I growled my appreciation and began to thrust in earnest.
His neck arched as I slid nice and deep, and my fingers tangled in his short dark hair. I felt almost . . . protective, holding him cradled like this as I thrust, his soft moans echoing the rhythm of our bodies. His hard cock bounced against his abs, but neither of us reached for it—the moment was perfect just like this.
“Beautiful. So beautiful.” My thumb swept along his jaw, the barest hint of stubble abrading my fingers.
“Handsome,” he slurred. “Men aren’t beautiful.”
“You are. Especially when you’re getting fucked like this. God. Your face . . .” I’d teased him about wanting a dick shot, but I would have given six months’ profits for a picture of his face right then—eyes half-closed in a drunken, fucked-out stare, lips parted, and cheeks flushed, a ruddy glow echoed on his neck and chest.
“Love you fucking me. Love it like this. Feel so close to you.”
His words were just sex talk, no more consequential than him ribbing me about the size of my dick, but each one slid over me like a caress, and I could only moan my agreement. Close? More like Vulcan mind-melded. Our breath sped up at the same time and our sweat mingled between our bodies. He answered each of my thrusts with a clench of his muscles, dragging me deep.
“Gonna go harder now.”
“Yeah. Give it to me.” Arching into me, his shoulders pressed hard into my chest as he met my thrusts. His breath hitched and my hand was on his dick before my brain even had a chance to send the command.
Moaning, he used his arm to pull his leg up higher. Damn, he was flexible, his knee resting over his crooked arm. Our lower legs tangled as I searched for leverage. He thrashed, both shoulders on the mattress now, his body pushing onto my dick and there . . . right freaking there . . . I found the perfect angle, the one that made him cry out.
“Wanna come.” He gasped. His head tilted toward me, our eye contact almost as intense as the fucking.
“Yeah. Come on, beautiful.”
His ass got tighter, his back muscles stiffening. I jacked my hips faster, finally reaching that frantic place where we were both hurtling toward orgasm, racing, so much so that I wasn’t sure who tipped over first, just that I was coming and so was he, my fist going wet and slick.
Each of his tremors caused an answering quake in me. I’d fucked in this position a hundred times before and never once been struck by its intimacy, but coming apart while holding him felt like someone had stripped away my top layer of skin, like I had no defenses any longer. And I got to see that same vulnerability in him—all his bravado reduced to quivers in my arms.
My legs trembled like tofu as I got a towel to clean us up. Sprawled on his back in the middle of the bed, he barely moved as I mopped him off as best I could. I stretched out next to him and he gave a little sigh and rolled into my side. With all the sex urgency gone, spooning him felt as cozy as the quilts I dragged up over us.
I dozed a bit, maybe drifted off entirely. Because when I opened my eyes, he was standing by the bed, pulling on his clothes. The air in the room had cooled, but it still smelled like sex. My dick twitched, far more awake than my foggy brain. I glanced at the clock: 12:45. Plenty of time for a round three.
“Hey. You don’t have to go. Sleep a bit. I can run you back home before I start the breakfast stuff.” It would be a tight crunch, but I wasn’t going to leave him stranded.
“Thanks, but I’ve got to get home. My little sister’s running the polar bear 5K tomorrow, and I promised her I’d wake up early enough to drive her and cheer her on.”
“Nice big brother.” He’d mentioned his family a number of times, always with tons of affection. I wondered not for the first time how different my life would have been with siblings to cheer on and bicker with and all that other brotherly stuff.
“I should be. I’ve had enough practice. Three sisters and one brother. How about you? Any siblings?” He shrugged into his shirt.
“Nope. I . . . I had an older sister, but she died before I was born.” I almost never shared that with strangers, but something about Lance loosened my tongue.
“Oh, man. That’s rough.” He rubbed my shoulder, a warm, firm touch that made me want to offer up even more of my secrets. An urge that I was going to squelch right the hell then.
“Give me a second and I’ll get up and take you home.” I stretched, trying to shake sense back into my brain. I needed to remember that his leaving was a good thing.
“Oh, it’s no biggie. My friends are still up. I’ve got a ride.” He held up his phone.
“They safe to drive?” I’d happily haul myself out of bed if it meant making sure he was with a sober driver.
“Oh, yeah. We always roll with a designated driver.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “You still want this to be a onetime deal, right?”
I nodded, not trusting words. I’d been so sure that once would be enough to extinguish my inconvenient lust for him—like how I could crave chocolate but be bored after half a brownie. But Lance was more like a fine, handcrafted Ethiopian roast, something I wanted seconds of before I even finished the first cup.
“Well, thanks.” He brushed a kiss across my forehead. “I’m not kidding when I say that was the most amazing fuck of my life.”
Me too. I still couldn’t speak, couldn’t admit that aloud. I was the older one, the one who was supposed to be more mature, more worldly. And he’d completely undone me.
“Take care of yourself,” I said at last.
“Always do.” He laughed, then stilled as he traced my lips with his thumb. He leaned in, kissing me. A soft brush, the way our first kiss should have been.
I reached for his head, but his phone buzzed and he jerked away.
“Gotta head out.”
And then he was gone and I was left alone in a rapidly cooling bed. I pulled the quilt up around my shoulders. I’d dug it out of the closet after Randy took the “good” linens with him. It had been a graduation present from my grandmother—the last one she’d finished before she passed. I’d always associated the green and blue pattern with freedom, but now I’d always see Lance sprawled across it.
Hell. I’d been worried about how awkward things would be next week, how he might be hanging around like an eager puppy while I tried not to kick him. But now I knew the truth: he wasn’t the one who was going to have a problem letting this go.