Unraveling Josh

by Edie Danford

  “Wow. That sucks.”

  “Yeah. My dad kinda sailed through it at the time—the lucky asshole—but it was pretty rough on my mom. And me. Things were a little calmer by the time I came out, thank God, but for a bunch of reasons I didn’t want to test boundaries. Plus, I was busy as hell and didn’t have a lot of time for anything serious. Then, my first couple years at Ellery there was a guy I’d started to see—but he was younger. He was still living in Lake Woods and it was the kind of relationship that was doomed from the start…”

  I stroked the inked-on thorns on his pelvis. Such a rough image for such soft skin.

  “And what happened with him?” he asked.

  “Um. Bad shit. He wasn’t all the way out and pretty messed up about it. He needed more help than I could give him. Not a good foundation for something lasting.” I spread my hand across Nick’s navel, letting the warm skin soothe me. “Long-distance relationships suck. I’ve had two of them. Very different guys, very different obstacles, but the same damn outcome.”

  Nick’s gaze shifted back toward the ceiling. He nodded. “That sucks. I’ve never been sure I’ve been up for the challenge of a relationship.”

  I stroked his hair. I wanted to ask why he didn’t feel up for that kind of challenge, but his eyes were shuttered and I figured now wasn’t the best time to broach the subject. “I couldn’t live without my friends,” I said. “And I had a great thing with my boyfriend here at Ellery. It was an awesome four years until we drifted apart. We’re still friends. In fact, his current boyfriend has become a really good friend of mine too.”

  “Really?” He shot me a surprised glance. “That’s cool.”

  “Very cool. I’d love for you to meet them. You’d dig them both, I think. Especially Kirby. He’s a trip.”

  I felt his slow intake of breath, his belly contracting under my hand. I glanced up at his face. He was pressing his lips together, furrowing his brow at the ceiling.

  I sighed. “I’m getting ahead of myself again, right? You know there’s no pressure to meet my friends.”

  He turned his face toward me and smiled. “Nah. It’s okay.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. You know what I was thinking?”

  “What?”

  “That we need to expand our repertoire.”

  “Repertoire?”

  “Yeah. I still have a big dick and questionable conversation skills. But I’d like to give one of those special condoms of yours a try.”

  I laughed at his reference to our conversation in the Boston hotel room, surprised he remembered it as well as I did. My dick twitched, obviously up for repertoire expansion.

  “Think one of my condoms would fit?” I asked, eyeing the beast that had been rising against his thigh.

  “I don’t know. Probably. But I was thinking you would wear the condom. And I’d give you the most amazing blowjob of your life.”

  The breath I took felt dry and shallow. I let it go slowly, feeling weirdly disappointed. He’d just offered to blow me—a good thing. And the lack of any condoms that would work for both of us meant I wouldn’t end up with an aching jaw and throat tonight—another good thing.

  “Hey,” he said, touching my face. “It’s okay. As far as problems go, this is a good one to have, right?”

  “Maybe.”

  He nudged my chin with his knuckles. “Come on, baby. Happy dick, happy man, remember?”

  I laughed. “Yeah.”

  He sat suddenly and I gripped the sheet as the mattress—which needed to be replaced—bounced and rocked. “Where are your supplies?” he asked.

  I had to think about it. Heat crept up my neck when I realized I didn’t know where the hell I’d packed condoms, or even if I’d packed them at all. There was a bunch of toiletry-type stuff I’d left in my old apartment for my roommate Bryson to use or get rid of. I smiled ruefully. “I suppose lube and condoms were the first things you unpacked when you hit your room at Vegan House, huh?”

  “No.” He raised his eyebrows and I immediately felt bad.

  “God. Sorry—”

  He laughed. “You just got it wrong, is all. I keep all that stuff with me at all times.” He winked. “That’s why my book bag is so massive.”

  I nodded solemnly. “Stupid of me to think your book bag is so big because you love books so much.”

  He laughed harder. “Do you think your condoms are in one of those unpacked boxes?”

  I sat and cast a glance toward the stack by the bathroom door. “Yeah. Yeah. They’re probably in there. And there’s also that one in my wallet.”

  He climbed off the bed. “Hold tight while I look. Best to go for something fresh if we can find it. I want you to feel as good as possible.”

  Fresh. I thought back to when I’d last purchased a box of condoms. It had been last year probably, after Zach and I had broken things off for good. An optimistic purchase that had been buried by my busy schedule and my lack of interest in putting myself out there.

  I fell back against the pillows, feeling like an idiot despite Nick being cool about everything. I heard the sound of tape being ripped from cardboard. He mumbled a few words about electric shavers sucking and how he hated the smell of tea-tree oil and then he said proudly, “Found them!”

  He lifted the box to show me and asked, “Lube?”

  I grinned. “That I packed myself. And unpacked it so I would know where it was immediately.” I leaned over to the bedside table and opened the drawer to find my nirvana’s-little-helper in a tube. A big tube. Hypoallergenic, high-quality jack-off juice.

  “Whoa. That’s a serious supply.” He raised his brows. “I am impressed. No wonder why you never hook up—you don’t have the energy.”

  “Ha. Yeah, well, I use this shit for everything. It’s awesome for preventing chafing when I work out and compete.”

  “Who knew Nordic skiing was so sexy?”

  “It’s very fucking sexy.”

  He came back to the bed, the box in hand, his heavy dick swaying and slapping his thighs. I fell back against the pillows again and watched him, my mouth beginning to water.

  “You willing to let me call the shots?” he asked, dropping the condoms and picking up the tube of lube.

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  He flipped the tube’s cap. “Good.”

  He poured a thick stream onto his left hand and replaced the cap one handed. No fumbling. He cupped his dick with the gooped-up hand, cradling the shaft, coating the underside with the viscous fluid. As he began to slowly stroke, easing his foreskin up and down, a funny noise erupted from my chest.

  “God,” I said. “I think you just made me whimper.”

  “Mmm.” His eyelids drifted shut for a moment as he began to thumb his cockhead, coating it with lube too. “That’s also good.”

  I rose to my knees and shuffled over to him. “Can I help with that?”

  “Nope. I’m calling the shots, remember?”

  “Right.” I sat back on my heels. I wanted to whimper again. I also wanted to laugh. And to kiss him. I loved that he was being all cocky. Not full-blown Cocky Kid; more like half Cocky Kid and half Comfortable Kid. I knew him better now. And I felt like he knew me. And knowing each other made him—made us—more in tune, more invested in what might happen between us.

  “On your hands and knees,” he commanded.

  My heart was thudding and my dick was throbbing—heavy and fast and kind of alarming—but I did what he asked.

  I was beginning to tremble when he climbed onto the bed and knelt beside me. “Ass up high, baby. And spread your legs wider.”

  “You’re not going to—”

  “Definitely not going to fuck you. We’re just gonna experiment with angles. And points of view.”

  I nodded, even though it was hard to remember anything when he was looking at me that way and talking to me that way and—oh God—running his hand over my ass and reaching down between my legs to handle my balls and my dick.

&nb
sp; “Also, I don’t know if you’re ready—if we’re ready—for that quite yet?”

  “Maybe,” I answered.

  He laughed. “I like a guy who keeps an open mind.” He was still stroking his dick—it was flagpole proud and ready to fly.

  He picked up the box of condoms. “Put one on.”

  Sitting back on my heels, I extracted a condom, unwrapped it and tried to manage rolling it down over my twitching cock. Difficult because I couldn’t keep my gaze off him. His strokes were still slow and steady, but he was working his foreskin with the edge of his thumb forcefully and my hole contracted as I imagined those slick ridges and textures moving inside me. We were both breathing hard, and my hands shook as I finished covering my dick.

  His slick hand slid down my back, coaxing me forward into a kneeling position again. I tried to relax under his touch. It was easier if I turned my head and looked into his eyes. They were dark and glittery and full of appreciation. No judgment about what I was or wasn’t doing, just pure sex.

  I arched my back, raising my ass high and keeping my knees apart. “Yeah,” he rasped. “Just like that.”

  I sighed as he stroked one globe of my ass, molding his palm to the slope, drifting his fingertips ever closer to my hole. He repeated the motion again and again, settling me, and then finally he reached down between my legs to stroke my balls and cock. He shifted his position, coming around to kneel behind me, one hand continuing to slick my balls and shaft, one hand stroking my back. He was so warm and his fingers were long and slick and felt so good. I wanted to tumble down onto the bed again, pull him with me, rub against him, forget all about the expanding-our-repertoire idea. Why mess with a beautiful thing?

  Before I could move or make the suggestion, he shifted again, dropping both hands to my hips. Next second something warm and soft and wet pressed firmly against my balls. I held my breath as he continued to pull downward—the motion getting a little quick and a little rough—on my aching cock. My toes were clenched with anticipation of feeling the hot press of his tongue and cheeks and throat. But his tongue continued to swirl lightly over my balls and then he slipped one of them into his mouth.

  I bit off a gasp. Blowjobs and related activities were something I was experienced with getting and giving, but, again, Nick was something else. The coming-at-me-from-behind angle was amazing. The way he moved his tongue, the way he knew just how to press and poke and tug. I bucked and he held tight to my hip. “Easy, baby.” When I stilled, he did an amazing suction thing with his lips and then, oh God…then my entire sac was in the hot, slick cavern of his mouth, my balls being rolled and pushed and massaged by his incredible tongue.

  “Feel good?” he pulled back to mumble against my skin.

  “Oh fuck,” was the summation of my thoughts.

  “Mmm.” He licked my left ball—it always hung lower than the other—and exhaled a short laugh. “I’ve been wanting to taste these all night. Better than I hoped.”

  My only response was to moan and drop my head. He leaned in for more licking and laving and my moan turned into heavy groans as he made wider sweeps with his tongue, tracing the line of my perineum.

  When my hips were bucking uncontrollably and I began to stutter, “Please. Please. Fuck, Nick.” And he murmured words of praise that made me feel warm and glow-y in places other than my balls and dick, and then all I could feel was insanely wild and pleasurable sensation as he braced my ass with steady hands and slowly pressed his fingertip into my hole. He wiggled it, playing and pressing, before going knuckle-deep.

  I exhaled loudly.

  “Still good?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  He went deeper still, crooking his knuckle, exploring until he found my prostate. The wave of fresh pleasure made me groan. “Yeah,” I said again. “Yeah-yeah. Oh God.”

  The good stuff—the shivery-awesome sensations—just kept building. Like I was starting a journey in the foothills and the slopes and rises were beautiful, but I could see the awesome height of an incredible snow-covered mountain just ahead. I was rocking back and forth, watching sweat drip onto the sheets beneath me.

  “Ready, baby?”

  “More than ready. Please…”

  He tugged on my cock, drawing it toward him. Another finger breached me at the same moment he took the head of my cock into his mouth. His mouth sucked while his fingers continued to ease in and out. When my cockhead bumped the back of his throat, I knew I’d reached the summit and my journey had ended.

  “Nick!” As I filled the condom with spunk, I fell forward into the pillows, gasping and trying to draw breath. My body was gliding…flying, my wings spreading as I shot into someplace glittery and bright.

  “You did so good.” I felt and heard the whisper in my ear. His mouth brushed my sweaty temple. I flopped to my side, reaching for him. He came down next to me and I tipped my chin, looking for a kiss. His lips were moist and tasted vaguely of musk and condoms, reminding me of all the things he’d just done to me—for me. It was such a fucking turn-on. I wanted to swallow him whole. I wanted to give him the same kind of pleasure he’d given me. I reached down between us, seeking his cock.

  He laughed against my cheek. “I had so many plans.”

  I smiled and kissed him. He was stroking himself, and I twined my fingers with his, wanting his heat and his rhythm. “Plans?”

  “Yeah,” he breathed. “more kissing and more ass-play and—”

  He gasped—a loud, sharp intake of breath—and for a half-second I panicked, thinking I’d hurt him somehow. But then I felt slick heat spilling over my fingers and I looked down to see him going over in our joined hands.

  “So hot,” I whispered, finding his mouth for another kiss.

  The soft moans he made into my mouth were delicious. I was sleepy as hell, wiped-out, really, but I didn’t want to stop.

  Finally he pulled back and said, “We need to get cleaned up a bit. And sleep.”

  “Yeah. I can manage the sleep part. Not sure about anything else.” I sighed and listened to my heartbeat rush through my ears. “Maybe breathing—I could probably manage that.”

  He laughed. “Hang tight. I saw some good stuff in the bathroom.” In a move that further proved he was one hundred percent down and groovy with bodies, he slipped off the spent condom from my dick, gave the glossy head a kiss and tied off the condom’s end.

  “Thanks.” With sleepy eyes, I watched him head for the bathroom. I was dozing when he came back to the bed. I caught the scent of my soap before I felt the warm, soft cloth against my belly. “Feels good,” I told him.

  “Mmm.”

  “But not as good as your tongue.”

  He gave me a brief kiss on the mouth—with tongue—and said, “My tongue needs to sleep too. It’s four thirty. Sun will be up soon.”

  I wanted to tell him how happy I was that he was here with me in my bed, admit that it had been lonely-going sleeping in this weird-ass tower since I’d moved in. And also tell him that I was pretty sure my skin—which had given me nothing but problems my whole life—was addicted to him and that he’d have to stay here and give me various Nick-treatments for the foreseeable future.

  But he snuggled in beside me, and the drape of his arm over my chest and his leg over my thighs felt like a better way to communicate.

  “Sleep, baby,” was the last thing I heard before I went under.

  Nick

  WE HAD POPCORN balls and cantaloupe for breakfast. The popcorn had lost some of its crispiness but the cantaloupe was juicy and it tasted very delicious on Josh’s skin. I was doing my duty in protecting him from irritants by licking every drop that fell on his chin and his fingers and his chest as we stood eating slabs of melon over the sink.

  I wasn’t at all surprised when we ended up in the shower together. And I was equally unsurprised when we ended up jacking each other again. Josh’s ultra-mild body wash for sensitive skin made hardly any bubbles. So it demanded lots of rubbing and slicking up before true clean
liness—and excellent orgasms—happened.

  We were sitting on the couch, skin still damp, our asses wrapped in towels, when Josh picked up his laptop and began asking me personal questions about my penis.

  I laughed at him and leaned in to look at his computer’s screen. “What the hell are you doing?”

  He grinned. “I’m on a condom supply site. I’m gonna order some special raincoats for your special dick.”

  “Um, okay.” I poked around my molars with the tip of my tongue, trying to loosen up a popcorn kernel.

  He nudged me with his shoulder. “I want to be able to blow you.”

  “A nice sentiment.”

  “It’s the gift that keeps on giving.”

  I smiled and watched his face as he concentrated on the screen. His dark eyebrows rose and fell, reminding me funnily of punctuation marks—quotes or maybe exclamation points—as he pondered and read. Condoms were apparently some fascinating and complicated shit.

  I considered telling him that I had a piece of paper back in my room at Vegan House that showed I was negative for any STDs when I’d visited my fave Chicago clinic before leaving for Boston. But telling him would lead to a serious sort of conversation. For full disclosure I’d need to tell him about the guy I’d fucked my first night in Boston, but reassure him I’d been careful to double up for safety. But really—why should he believe me?

  I bit my lip and held back a sigh. And if I made the offer of going to the clinic and getting poked together? I’d probably hyperventilate before I got the words out.

  I hadn’t fucked anyone since I’d been back at Ellery, which, for the purposes of having a sex-safety convo with Josh, was good. But for purposes of my own sanity? I wasn’t so sure.

  My focus for the last week had been on the big, beautiful guy sitting beside me. Not on my new classes or my new living situation or parties or my friends from here or from far away. Maybe extreme tunnel vision was a possible explanation for my current status? I’d spent the night with him, most of the morning and now I was thinking about swapping stats with him. In the abstract, of course. But still.