LOVE IN LOCKDOWN: A Charity Anthology

by Tracy Lorraine

  His gaze flicks up to mine, his rhythm never faltering. The invitation in his eyes is as clear as day, and who the fuck am I to decline.

  Going in for the kill, he drags his mouth up my length one more time, his cheeks hollowing out as he expertly sucks on the head.

  “Holy fuck,” I shout as streams of come fill his mouth. I watch him lap it all up, like it’s his last meal, or his favorite one. “You look so good down there.”

  He pops off my dick and gives me a wicked smile. “Want to taste yourself?”

  I lean back on my elbows, trying to catch my breath. “I’d rather taste you,” I blurt out.

  He rises up off his knees and runs his fingers through my hair. “You don’t have to do that.”

  My eyes dart straight down to the dick print in his sweatpants, taking in both the length and stiffness. Reaching out, I grip his waist and pull him closer to me. Even though I’m looking up at him, his cock is in perfect line with my mouth.

  “I have wanted you since I first laid eyes on you,” I confess. “You think I’m gonna pass up the chance to taste you?”

  “I can get myself off,” he exclaims. “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I know this is all new.”

  Placing my hand over his shaft, I glide it up and down his length. “The actions might be new, Micah, but the feelings of wanting you are not.”

  Dragging his pants down his body, I leave them sitting mid-thigh, his half-covered legs turning me on all over again. His dick is long and hard and leaking, and I can feel my mouth practically salivating at the possibilities.

  Letting nothing but my senses guide me, I run one hand up his naked thigh and around to his ass. My other hand grips his long, hard cock and I begin jacking him off. Pre-come pools in the slit of his tip, and I waste no time scooping it up with my tongue.

  Wanting more, I lick his crown like a lollipop, enjoying the sporadic spurt of salty liquid on my tongue. When his fingers glide through my hair, and he applies the slightest amount of pressure on my head, I take it as an invitation to take his whole length in between my lips.

  I slide up and down his shaft while the plethora of moans and obscenities from Micah’s mouth spurs me on. Feeling cocky, I release my hold on his shaft, and place it on his other ass cheek. Alternating between squeezing and caressing, I push Micah farther into my mouth, wanting to feel him at the back of my throat.

  “Fuck, that feels so good,” he groans. “I think my dick could live in your mouth forever.”

  When I gag, he tries to pull back, but I push him farther down my throat, welcoming the discomfort. I flick my eyes up to Micah’s, and whatever he sees flips a switch, and he begins voluntarily fucking my mouth.

  It’s fast and rough, and everything I ever imagined it to be. Drops of his salty arousal return, and my tongue laps up the prelude of what’s to come.

  With our eyes still locked on one another, he tugs at my hair, pulling my head back farther. “Are you sure?” he asks.

  Not needing any clarification, I bob my head faster, eager to push him over the edge, eager to have him fill my mouth.

  “Oh shit,” he cries out as a generous amount of come lands on my tongue. I work my throat to swallow as gracefully as possible while he continues to unload in my mouth.

  As his release tapers down, his hold on my hair loosens, and his body sags in exhaustion. I drag myself off his now soft dick and offer him a satisfied smile. “Want to taste yourself?”

  6

  Micah

  Pulling my sweats up, I tuck myself back in and throw myself at him. He falls flat on his back, and I’m awkwardly stretched over him, wanting nothing more than my lips on his.

  He opens up for me, offering me his tongue, letting me bask in the fact that I can taste myself on him. Sated, our mouths move slower, our strokes lazy and content. It’s a feeling I could get used to; a feeling I want to get used to.

  “While I could do this all night,” Oliver says, interrupting our kiss, “do you think we can get a little more comfortable?”

  A small chuckle leaves my mouth. “What? You don’t like my body on top of yours?”

  He wraps his arms around me and kisses the tip of my nose. “I could really get used to your body on top of mine.”

  The mood between us has shifted. The goal of getting each other off taking a back seat, and that emotional connection tethering us to one another a lot quicker than I anticipated.

  Oliver tucks my hair behind my ear. “Take off your sweats, and slide underneath the covers with me.”

  It’s a simple and honest request. No sexual innuendo, no dominating command. And I don’t need to be asked twice.

  I stand up and rid myself of my pants, throwing them onto the empty bed. Oliver stands too, a comfort in his nakedness that I didn’t expect. He presses a soft kiss on my lips. “I’m going to brush my teeth. I’ll be right back.”

  When he saunters back into the room, I smile at just how relaxed he looks. Knowing I helped has my dick stirring to life.

  We swap places while I quickly freshen up, and when I return to the room he’s already in bed and underneath the blanket.

  Wordlessly, I climb into his arms. With my back pressed against his front, it’s a tight fit, but a perfect one nevertheless. Slightly bigger than I am, he throws both his arm and leg over my body, his semi-hard dick pressing into my lower back, and his chin resting on my shoulder.

  “Thank you,” he breathes into the darkness.

  “For the blow job?”

  “No,” he chuckles. “I mean yes, it was amazing, but I mean thank you for not judging me.”

  I cover his forearm with mine, and tuck myself even closer to him. “I used to think you hated me,” I reveal. “I couldn’t work out why you were always scowling at me, but when I finally saw the way you were looking at me that day in Mr. Reid’s class… I don’t think I realized how much it bothered me to have you hate me without knowing me.” I turn in his arms and try to ignore the way our cocks brush against one another. “It would be hypocritical of me to judge you without knowing you.”

  “You know more than anyone else,” he admits.

  I cup his cheek, and his eyes drop to my lips. “I know you’re gay. But I want to know everything else there is to know about you.”

  He presses his hips into me and kisses me at the same time. Our dicks harden, unable to deal with the close proximity.

  “Like I said, thank you.” He returns his mouth to mine, that feeling of complete contentment washing over me again. “I think it’s safe to assume I’m going to be hard this whole week.” He grinds his erection into mine. “I don’t think I can be this close to you and not want to touch you.”

  I slide my hand down his body and cup his ass. “I’m down for another orgasm if you are.”

  His dick jumps against mine. “You don’t need to ask me twice.”

  Throwing off the blankets, he carefully rolls over me, trying to give us more room. He lines up our dicks and starts thrusting.

  Our skin is hot and sensitive, and the feel of his cock rubbing against mine has me feeling delirious. Wanting more, I wrap my fingers around us both and jerk us off.

  Pre-come makes the glide of my hands smoother, the friction nothing but delicious torture. “How do you think we look together?” Oliver pants. “It’s like your dick was made for mine.”

  I glance down, and the sight of us together, all slick from our arousal, ratchets up my desire to come.

  Oliver fucks my fist, his desperation matching my own. Our lips gravitate to each other, neither of us able to resist any type of contact, none of it feeling like enough.

  Already able to pick up on his tells, I match his frantic movements to push him over the edge.

  “Come on my stomach.” My voice is rough and strained as I try to time our release. The demand seems to do the trick, and thick ropes of his come land onto my torso.

  The sight has my own dick spilling out my release, my own come now mixed on my skin with
his.

  “Oh fuck,” he heaves. “And to think I thought jerking myself off to some porn was going to cut it.”

  My laughter fills the room, loving this up close and personal version of Oliver. He’s better than I anticipated.

  Sexy. Funny. Honest.

  “Can I take a picture of you like this?” he asks.

  I swipe a finger through the sticky substance on my stomach and raise it to his lips. He sucks on it without a second thought.

  “Do you want to use me for spank bank material?” I joke.

  His lips tip up in a sly smirk. “I already use you for spank bank material.”

  “If you clean me up, I promise you can use me for the rest of the week.”

  “Somebody’s demanding,” he teases.

  “Just tired from all the orgasms.”

  He lowers his lips to my forehead and softly presses a kiss there before making his way to the bathroom.

  He’s gone for all of a few minutes, but exhaustion has me already drifting off to sleep.

  “Hey, Micah,” he whispers. “You might feel something wet on you. I’m just cleaning you up.”

  I manage to crack open an eyelid just as he uses his own towel to wipe up our mess.

  “Thank you,” I manage to croak out.

  He gives me another kiss to the forehead. “Anytime. Anytime.”

  For the third morning in a row, I wake up with Oliver’s limbs wrapped up in mine. He wakes up ridiculously early to train, and since our classes have been late, he showers and jumps right back into bed with me.

  It feels so far from reality, but something I hope with every fiber in my being we can continue after this week’s over.

  I know it’s a big ask, but I’ll never know if I don’t ask him. And since our break between classes lines up today, I’m going to find the courage to discuss it with him.

  “What are you thinking so hard about?” My body jolts at the sound of his voice, not expecting him to be awake or know that I am.

  Here goes nothing.

  “Can we date?”

  “You mean you want me to come out?”

  I turn to face him. “It would be nice, for you, but that’s not what I’m asking.” He runs the back of his hand down my cheek. “I just don’t think I can go back to how it was before, you know?”

  “I know,” he agrees. “I like who I am here. Not just with you, but in general. I feel so light.”

  I listen as he sifts through his thoughts, wanting so much to agree with him, to tell him the change in him is like night and day. Even Mr. Grayson and Mr. Reid notice the difference.

  While I don’t attribute it to me specifically, there is a freedom like no other when you stop lying to yourself. And I want that for him.

  “I’m just putting it out there,” I tell him. “It’s not a decision you need to make this second, but I wanted you to know where I stand before we headed back to real life.”

  “I don’t want to go back to real life,” he admits. “I don’t want to not have this with you.”

  I scoot myself even closer, till my skin is kissing his. “We’ll work it out, okay? Let’s just enjoy today.”

  He gives me a solemn nod and a quick peck on the lips. Untangling himself from both me and the blankets, I watch him get ready for the day, imagining us both doing this exact same thing a year from now.

  I follow his lead and get ready too. Even without the added bonus of Oliver and I getting lost in one another every night, being here has been a life-changing experience.

  The classes I’ve been allocated to attend are all related to the design and marketing degree I want. And when I’m not in a class, I have all the freedom in the world to find my feet.

  Mr. Reid and Mr. Grayson gave us a list of dos and don’ts that centered around curfews, parties, drinking, and drugs.

  But seeing as Oliver and I couldn’t get back to the room quick enough, most of it was a non-issue.

  They check in with us every morning and insist on dinner together every night, but they’re both so laid back and supportive, it hardly feels like an imposition.

  “I’m going to get going,” Oliver announces. I can see the transformation before my eyes, his default to crawl right back into his shell and erect those familiar walls.

  Instead of calling him on it, I make the few steps it takes to reach him and kiss him quickly.

  “Have a good day.”

  He gives me a sad smile, and I watch him leave the room.

  Not wanting to dwell on it, I rush through my morning routine and choose to spend the remaining hour before class reminding myself that with or without Oliver, this life I want for myself is going to happen.

  I don’t focus on the organ in my chest that aches every time I think of having to return to school and pretend none of this ever happened.

  When lunch comes around, Oliver sends me a text I’m not surprised to read.

  Oliver: Skipping lunch, heading for the track.

  It doesn’t take a genius to know running is his anchor, his safe haven. So instead of heading over to go and watch him like I want to, I give him the space, willing it to help him work through his thoughts.

  I avoid going back to the room at all costs and stay out of his way till dinner, but when he doesn’t show at our usual meeting place, I slap a smile on my face and lie to Mr. Reid and Mr. Grayson, telling them he hasn’t been feeling well today.

  Dinner goes unbearably slow, Oliver’s absence a noticeable mood changer. I try to smile and laugh and answer at all the right times, but when Mr. Reid suggests I finish up early to check on Oliver, I know I haven’t fooled anyone.

  I stand outside the dorm room—looking like a creeper—for longer than is acceptable. I feel like I’m delaying the inevitable, knowing it’s going to hurt a lot more than I ever expected to hear him tell me he won’t even try.

  My cell dings with a text, and before I get a chance to check it, the door swings open.

  “I heard your phone,” he says, explaining himself. “How long have you been standing out here?”

  “Just tell me,” I blurt out.

  “Tell you what?”

  “I know it’s over, Oliver.” Emotion grips my throat, but I try to swallow past it. “Just rip the Band-Aid off,” I plea. “Just rip it off and fucking tell me.”

  7

  Oliver

  The distressed look on his face slices right through me. I hate that I put that there. He’s given me nothing but time and freedom and an endless amount of affection I know I don’t deserve, and now I’ve gone and ruined it all by giving him the silent treatment.

  I take hold of his wrist and drag him past the threshold. Slamming the door shut, I push him up on it and hungrily slam my mouth to his.

  His mouth immediately melds with mine, our kiss frantic and all-consuming. Wordlessly, he slips his hands underneath my shirt and begins pushing the material up my stomach.

  Our lips disconnect, and I raise my arms to let him strip me of my clothes, knowing today, I pushed him past his comfort levels, and he’s trying to regain his footing. He’s trying to put us back on the common ground we’ve been on all week, the place where our mouths and hands do all the talking, and the decision to choose between happiness and heartache doesn’t exist.

  His mouth returns to mine while long fingers expertly undo the button on my jeans. He drags down the zipper and slips his hands underneath my briefs, and when his fingers curl around my length, my body trembles.

  “I want to fuck you,” he breaths out against my lips. “Or you fuck me. I don’t care. I just––”

  My body burns at the thought of giving myself to him like that, but a flurry of alarm bells in my mind distract me from his tempting invitation.

  Pulling apart, I hold his face in between my hands, his expression both weary and wanton.

  “Hey,” I say softly. “Are you trying to say goodbye to me?”

  He drags his hand out of my pants and lets his head fall back onto the wooden door in
defeat. “Isn’t that what you’re going to say to me anyway?”

  “So, what, you want to have sex, and then walk away from one another?”

  “No, I want to have sex, so I have tangible proof that this wasn’t just a dream. That these few days meant something. That we,” he gestures between us, “felt something.”

  All the pieces click together as I watch him try to get a handle on his fear.

  “I’m sorry for scaring you like that today,” I say. “I just needed a moment to work things out.”

  “It’s okay,” he says, blowing out a resigned breath. “I know it was a big ask. I can’t expect a week away to change everything.”

  Shaking my head, I press a kiss to his lips to silence him, and when I move back, I hold his beautiful gaze. “But you can, Micah. You can expect that, because it did. This week changed everything. You changed everything.”

  “Do you honestly mean that?” he asks, his voice shaking. “Because I don’t know if I can handle you saying one thing, and then when next week comes you doing another.”

  “I can’t promise there won’t be times where I won’t freak out,” I admit. “But if you promise to be patient with me, I promise to do right by you.”

  “You really want this?” he prods.

  It’s my turn to slip my hand underneath his shirt and drag it off his body. I bury my head in his neck and pepper kisses against the column of his neck.

  “I want you more than anything,” I murmur.

  He cranes his neck to the side, giving me more skin. “Fuck me,” he asks again.

  “No,” I say in between kisses.

  He stills, and I wait for all the progress we’ve just made to turn to shit. He doesn’t make an attempt to move, and I know I need to tell him my reasoning before he tells himself I don’t want him.

  Holding on to both of his hands, I take a step back and guide him to the bed. When he’s seated, his legs hanging over the edge, I kneel between his wide-open thighs.

  Looking up at him, I take in his pouting lips and tug at them playfully. “Don’t look at me like that.”