by Edie Danford
We’d been together a lot over the last few weeks and now that our bodies “knew” what they could do for each other, anything that kept them apart was annoying as fuck.
I tugged at his T-shirt and he tore at the buttons on my sweater. We drew apart long enough to whip the fabric from our arms, shoulders, heads. After tossing my tee on the floor, he gave my chest the same treatment he’d given my mouth.
There were times when I could drift on the sensation of him exploring my nipples, the divot of my sternum, the ridges of my abs and the quivering skin around my bellybutton, for hours. Now wasn’t one of those times. I wanted to come.
I put my hands on his shoulders and gave him a shove. He fell back against the bed with a gasp and I fell on top of him. His legs came up to clasp my hips and settle my crotch more tightly against his. “You feel so good,” I whispered. “Even through these goddamn jeans.”
I was propped on my elbows over him, thrusting with absolutely no finesse, but I knew it didn’t matter. His fast grinds and slow whimpers meant he was just as lost. His hands were in my hair, tangling and gripping hard before moving down to cup the back of my neck. He arched up to meet me and then we were doing the kiss-mash with our mouths again.
Things were tight, things were pinching, things weren’t comfortable, but I was overwhelmed by the pleasure gathering force in my spine and pelvis and balls. I groaned loud—maybe loud enough for Lauren to hear me down on the porch—as I started to go.
“Oh, God, yeah,” he crooned in my ear as I shuddered and shot, filling my briefs with jizz. “There you go, baby. Right…there.”
His hands had come down to grip my ass and, after my flailing thrusts slowed, he held me steady as he ground against me, his cock an amazing force between us.
He stiffened, moaned and I watched his face as he came, soaking up the now-familiar sight of his head falling back, his throat working, his lips parting as he huffed out a harsh series of breaths.
My elbows collapsed and I shifted down a bit so I could rest my cheek on his chest. I loved the jagged rhythm of his breathing, the rapid thud-thump of his heart. I loved the feel of his hands coming up to stroke my back, his fingertips pressing and playing over the bumps of my spine. I loved him. His scent and his sighs and his laughter. His sharp mind and his mysterious moody-broodiness.
I wanted to tell him again how I felt—the words were rising as naturally and freely as the orgasm I’d just had—but, unlike my orgasm, I knew I had to hold them back. I’d learned that sex was easy for me with Nick. Other things? Took some mulling over.
“Jizzing in your pants is itchy,” he said after a few moments.
“I know,” I said, rubbing the edge of my thumb over his nipple. “How does it feel to jizz in your pants?”
He laughed. “You’re an idiot.”
“Yep. I’m your idiot.”
His arms tightened around me and he squeezed hard enough to make me grunt. “I’m not gonna let you go.” He’d whispered it, but I could feel the force behind the words deep inside his chest.
“Okay with me,” I murmured.
“Good,” he said, easing up a bit. His breath was hot against the top of my head. “I’m stuck on you…and it would fucking suck to try to detach.”
“Would totally fucking suck,” I agreed, rubbing my cheek against his skin. It wasn’t a straightforward declaration of love, but I knew as sure as I could feel the still-fast thud-thud beneath my cheek that it had come from his heart.
We ended up dozing for a bit. Eventually though, despite Nick’s promise, we had to separate our bodies. There was sticky and then there was sticky. I laughed at his grimace when he unzipped his jeans and surveyed the damage. He zipped back up, grabbed a towel from his dresser and said, “Warm water is necessary. Don’t move.”
I nodded in agreement, still feeling blissed out and doze-y. After a few seconds, I sat up, knowing that both Nick and I had shit we needed to get done today. Other than each other.
Smiling, I looked around the room. I had to chuckle when I saw the suitcases overflowing with clothes. And the boxes… Jesus. He was one to give me shit about being slow with unpacking. He still had shit in boxes and he was a slob. Of course he’d been spending almost every sleeping and waking hour at the tower when he wasn’t at the library or in class. So maybe I was partly to blame for this mess.
One of the boxes closest to the bed was small and sturdy and had what looked to be books poking from its partially opened top. Curious about what kind of books Nick-the-bibliophile chose to bring to Ellery yet leave unpacked, I leaned forward and grabbed one that was sticking up.
It was a photo album. One that seemed professionally put together with bound pages and a hardcover. I laughed as I read the title printed in a big, festive font across the bottom of the cover, Pete, Nicholas, Mike and Jonathan do Cancun!
I squinted at the photo above the title. Four guys on the beach with their arms around each other. A cute, very tan blond dude—totally twinked out with tight, flowered trunks—two completely ripped guys with identically styled dark hair and American flag Speedos (ugh) and, at the end of the line, a pale, skinny kid with blue board shorts. And blue hair. And a familiar red dragon roaring on right side of his chest.
“Oh my God,” I murmured, laughing. “Nick…”
I had just turned the page for more fun in the sun when I heard voices outside the door.
“Leave me alone, damn it,” Nick was saying. The humor in his voice made the words seem like a tease. “You’re freaking me out—”
Something thudded against the door and I heard Nick’s familiar giggle.
“But I want to meet the guy who’s broken all the poor gay Ellery boys’ hearts!” a female voice demanded. “The guy who’s monopolizing Nick’s dick!”
“I mean it, Kelse!” Nick’s voice again. “You’ll pay!”
Another thump and giggle. “I don’t believe he’s real. I think he’s a fantasy—a way to avoid having to keep up your impossible-to-keep-up rep—”
“Josh!” Nick called out over laughter. “Save me.”
I stood, grimacing at the state of my khakis and briefs, and opened the door. Nick came tumbling through. I caught him in my arms, laughing.
A short woman with a rad Mohawk and wide, pretty eyes stood in the hall. Her mouth dropped open as she continued to stare.
“There,” Nick said, leaning his back against my chest, drawing my arms around him. The damp towel he held smashed warmly against my arm. “See? Not a fantasy. Real.”
“Hey,” I said, smiling. I tugged my right hand free from Nick’s clasp and offered it to the woman. “I’m Josh.”
She shook with a firm grip. “Kelsey,” she said absently, dropping her hand, her gaze traveling from my face to my shoulders and down to where my left hand was being pressed against Nick’s bare belly. “Geez, McQueen. I can see why you’ve been keeping him all to yourself. He’s a goddamn beaut.”
My face heated. Nick laughed. “I know, right?” he said. “And better than that, he’s smart and he’s nice. Now can you leave, please? I need to de-jizz him.”
My face got hotter. Kelsey laughed and held up ringed fingers. “Okay, man. Far be it from me to get in the way of your questionable boy-sex hygienic practices.”
Nick snorted. “I’d say don’t ask about mine and I won’t ask about yours. But there’s no fricking way I’d ever ask about yours.”
He stepped back so I stepped back too. He slammed the door in Kelsey’s face—which I thought was rude—but she cackled wildly and a second later another door thumped loudly.
He turned to face me, a big grin on his face. “Sorry about that,” he said. He unfastened my pants and tugged them down, going after me efficiently with the towel.
“Um…no problem?” I sucked in air as he swabbed my pubes and my dick.
“Kelse is a pain but she’s cool. A good friend.”
I tilted my head, considering him. The tip of his tongue poked into the corner of his mouth as
he concentrated. I’d learned a few interesting things about him today. He wasn’t a model student, but he was smart and knew how to work around the rules. He had a good friend named Kelsey who could make him giggle. He was a slob. He’d completely blown off his obligations to his house to spend time with me.
“I want to know more about your friends,” I said.
He threw the towel into a pile by the suitcase. He fastened me up and then pulled me close, wrapping his arms around my waist, nuzzling my neck. “I know a lot of people, I guess, but I don’t actually have a lot of close friends.”
I put my hands on his hips. “What about those guys?” I tipped my head toward the photo album I’d been looking at.
“Oh…” His arms dropped to his sides. “Those are friends from high school.”
“Looked like you guys were doing up Cancun just about right.”
He snorted and pulled away from me. He picked up the book, smirked at the cover and casually—maybe too casually—tossed it back in the box. “Seems like another world. One I don’t want to visit right now.”
“Okay,” I said. I didn’t want to push it. I wanted to know everything about him, but I knew he’d already taken some big steps with me today.
He was rummaging through one of his clothes piles. I admired the ripple of muscle under inked skin for a moment before saying, “I love what you’ve done with your room.”
He exhaled a laugh and flipped me the bird behind his back. He pulled on the shirt he’d found and turned to face me.
I picked up a brush from his dresser and held it up. “Can I?” I asked.
His scrunched-up mouth was saying no, but his eyes were warm and he stood still as I approached him. I began to carefully brush out the tangles, bracing my free hand on his warm forearm for leverage.
“What’s the plan for the rest of the day?” I asked.
“Mmm.” His head tilted and his eyes drifted half shut. He’d never admit it, but he liked when I did this for him. “I’ve got a lot of reading to catch up on.”
“I’ve got a meeting at the library at four,” I said. “And then I was thinking about working out.”
He made another noncommittal noise. My lips curved. Sometimes making plans with Nick was like luring a lonely, hungry animal from his hidey-hole. I had to set out morsels slowly and carefully and not make any bold moves if I wanted him to respond well.
“I’ll have dinner at home and then try to catch up on some research…at around seven?”
“Okay,” he said. Finished with the detangling job, I tossed the brush on the bed and ran my hand down his back. He shivered and I pressed a kiss to his neck.
“So I’ll see you there?”
He turned around and smiled. It was a good smile. He kissed me and said, “Yeah, I’ll see you there.”
Chapter Twelve
Nick
WE HADN’T DISCUSSED it or anything, but tonight I was gonna fuck Josh. I needed, wanted, was so fricking ready to be inside him. Actually we’d both been ready for a while—experimenting with butt plugs and other toys, testing out what kinds of things made him comfortable—but in the meantime we’d discovered all kinds of satisfying ways to get off together and, honestly, I think I was more nervous than he was about it. Because I didn’t want to think hard about how I’d been all about fast, full-penetration fucks in the past, but with Josh everything—every little thing—seemed different.
He’d hinted at having dinner together, but I wanted to pay some dues at my house and ate with the gang there. Well, I sort of ate. The fare wasn’t my fave, but Kelsey’s company was welcome—and later, when we were hanging out studying in her room, she said many things about Josh and how cute we looked together and how she could tell by the look on my face how totally gone I was over him.
What she’d said made me feel good but worried. His declaration at the diner had splashed sunshine on my heart. But still… It wasn’t enough to shove away the dark haze I saw every time I closed my eyes and thought of the future.
I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I was gone over him, always had been—but I wasn’t sure I had it in me to make a long-term thing work. I didn’t have any experience with this kind of thing. Also, he was a prince and I was… I don’t know what. A kid with his nose pressed against the glass of a store way too classy and nice for him to set foot in? A poseur-peasant waiting helplessly outside the prince’s tower?
So maybe it was falling back on my old standard to show him—and myself—how much I cared about him by fucking him. But as I entered the tower at about ten p.m. and walked up the stone steps, I wasn’t in the mood to analyze or rehabilitate my behavior. I was in the mood to fuck.
He was sprawled on the long couch and when he caught sight of me he rested his book on his chest and smiled. I smiled back. The room smelled like his soap—from the looks of his loose lounge pants, soft tee and damp hair, he’d recently showered—with an underlying aroma of books and stone. And a food-type scent that could’ve been chicken.
“Sorry I didn’t make it for dinner,” I said, dropping my book bag on the floor and walking toward him. “I needed to check in with my housemates.” I stood over him and surveyed my territory. It was a fine, fine looking terrain. Goddamn I was lucky. I plucked the book from his chest and set it on the ottoman.
“Good thinking,” he said. “Seemed like you kinda needed to do that—”
His breath caught as I sprawled on top of him. I smiled when he automatically opened his legs to capture me in the grooviest spot, tipping his chin and parting his lips for my kiss. I rewarded him with one that was slow and thorough and just the right amount of wet. He made it so easy.
His arms came up to drape over my shoulders and I grabbed them, shifting around and sliding my palms over his warm skin until I was holding his wrists over his head. It didn’t work as well as I would’ve liked because of the couch’s bulky arm, but it had the desired effect. He went still and his nostrils flared. The gorgeous golds and browns in his irises were already shadowed by his pupils.
God, I loved how I could amp him this high with such a simple move. Of course, I was already hard as fuck and rocking my dick against his, and that was probably a turn-on too.
“I want you,” I told him.
He licked his puffy lips and nodded. “I want you too.”
“I want to fuck you,” I clarified, letting my need show in my voice and the slow thrust of my hips.
He nodded again. “Do it.”
I sat, untangling myself from his long legs. “On the bed.” I’d coached myself on my walk over to the tower that I was gonna take charge and call the shots. I was the one with the experience and I knew confidence went a long way toward eliminating nerves. Also, confidence was sexy as hell.
So if I felt a tad nervous as Josh unfolded his prime bod from the couch and swiftly walked to the bed to wait for me, I tried like hell not to show it.
But as I looked down at him, so trusting and so beautiful as he rested on his plain blue comforter and looked up at me with eyes that showed so much of his heart, I felt myself falter. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe we should talk. Or just make out. Or make popcorn. Or I could turn around, take the stairs down to the big oak door, open it and leave.
“C’mere,” he whispered, holding out his hand.
His smile melted the shit that had suddenly felt frozen in my chest and I practically fell on the bed as relief hit me hard. It was going to be okay. This was Josh. This was about us being together. I didn’t need to focus on attitude or skill or trying to be the best fuck ever. All I had to do was be present and focus on what his body—and my body—wanted.
He pulled me into his arms and we just hugged for a few moments. “I want you so much,” he whispered against my cheek. “No one makes me feel like you do, Nick. So good. Free and loose and so fucking needy. I wanna get more up close and personal with your beast.”
His words melted me even more, but I had to laugh and ask, “Is that a pep talk?”
&n
bsp; His smile went lopsided as he stroked my dick through my jeans. “I think you’re already pepped.” He sat and reached for the giant bottle of lube on the nightstand. “What I think we need now is some prep.”
I narrowed my eyes. I was feeling back in the groove. Mostly because of the way he was eyeing the bulge in my pants. And the way he seemed to instinctively know what to say to make me feel good. I wanted to make him feel good too.
“Get started,” I commanded. “Get yourself ready for me.”
His eyes went wide, his fingers faltering on the bottle.
“Yeah,” I said. “Show me how you’d do it.”
I could tell by the way his breath picked up and the way he licked his lips that he liked the idea, even though it made him nervous.
I knew now that Josh loved to get done. But he also got off big time when he figured out how to overcome his own boundaries—when he was the one who untied the knots he’d made for himself.
He got off the bed and stripped. His dick was bright pink at the head, glossy with need. I ignored the familiar urge to wrap myself around his nude body and wallow in his beauty. I watched him climb onto the bed and fall against the pillows again. I left my clothes on but joined him on the mattress, kneeling beside him, keeping my hands loose at my sides. I wanted to touch, but I wouldn’t. His eyes were on mine as he spread his knees and squirted a generous amount of lube on his fingers.
He went for his balls first, massaging and cradling and coating them with slick. Slowly his middle finger dipped lower, toying with the sensitive skin between his sac and his hole. He smoothed some of the lube downward and—faster than I’d thought he go for—he penetrated his pucker, going knuckle deep.
“I’ve done this before,” he whispered, his voice as deep and hoarse as I’d ever heard it.
I raised my eyebrows.
“Thinking about it,” he said. “Wondering how it would feel.”
“And how does it feel?” I asked.
He exhaled a laugh. “Weird at first. Then…” He plunged his finger in deeper and caught his lower lip between his teeth. “Then it feels pretty fucking good.”