by Jack Harbon
As if he’s done with me, Garrett pushes me off of him, back down on my side. I want to protest, but I feel like I’m on fire, breathless and sweating from the strain of having him buried down my throat. I could pass out here and now if I let myself.
“Look at you,” he says in a low voice. “Look at this mess. Am I gonna have to clean this up?” His chest is covered in my cum. It rolls down his abs to his hips in thick lines.
“No,” I pant, pushing myself up. I lean towards him and dip my head, cleaning him off. I’ve never tasted myself before, and surprisingly, it’s not that bad. It’s yet another case of the enjoyment coming from him rather than the act itself. Not what I’m doing, but with who. I make sure not to waste a drop, but before I can get far, he catches the back of my head and pulls me in for a messy kiss. His tongue explores mine and he licks at my mouth, sharing the taste between the both of us.
“I should’ve swallowed,” he remarks once he falls back onto the bed.
“There’ll be plenty more than you can taste,” I remind him, smirking. “Besides, it’s your turn.” I start to kiss my way down his body towards his cock when he stops me.
“Nah, I won. I want my prize.”
“And what would that prize be?”
“You asked me to come up here and fuck you, didn’t you?” One dark eyebrow angles up. “If I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come inside you.”
“Is that right?”
“That’s right. I saw your video on PrEP. I started taking it because of you.”
I put my hand over my heart. “Wow, it means the world that I could help even one person. Ugh, my impact.”
He laughs despite the glare he has on. “Harvey Milk, who’s that?” he jokes. “Are you seeing anyone else?”
“Fuck no. Party of one.”
“Neither am I,” he says. There’s a beat. “I can pull up my last test on my phone, too. No problems, no STIs.”
I swallow hard. It’s obvious he wants this, and there’s a part of me that does too. While I could probably name the last guy I fucked, the last guy I ever let raw me would take some time to recall. I’ve always been safe. I’ve always preached about it on my channel. I literally vlogged my first checkup, and I had a whole series on my experience with Truvada. But god, I want to feel all of Garrett.
“We don’t have to,” he says. “If you’d feel more comfortable with a condom, I have one in my wallet. I’m not gonna force you.”
I feel like a teenager, flooded with relief that he’s not some asshole trying to pressure me. “I…That would be preferred.”
“No problem,” he says. He gestures to his pants on the floor. “Go grab it.”
I find the condom in his wallet just like he said, along with a travel size packet of lubrication. Of course he’s prepared for even something like this. It’s as annoying as it is impressive that he’s ready for anything. Returning to the bed, I’m full of energy again. Like the conversation hasn’t dampened the mood. If anything, it makes me want to fuck him even more. “I hope this is a decent prize still,” I say.
“I get to fuck an internet celebrity,” he teases. “It’s a damn good prize.”
My cheeks sting from smiling, and rather than sitting here like a fucking clown, I get to work. Without meandering any longer, I pull open the condom and slide it down his length, tearing a small hole in the Astroglide to control how much I use.
Garrett slips his hands behind the back of his head and watches as I climb on top of him, that cocky smile ever present. I don’t know what it is about him, but when he looks at me like that, I want to prove him wrong. Maybe I wasn’t able to hold off my orgasm earlier, but that self-assured smirk on his face is like a nonverbal challenge, and I’m ready to rise to the occasion.
Game on.
I take it slow at first, easing myself onto him. It’s been a while since I’ve done this, so the stretch takes longer than usual. Still, I’m nowhere near a beginner, and after a bit of comforting strokes to my thighs from Garrett, I reach the base of his dick, my ass firmly in his lap. The feeling of being this full spreads throughout my body, and every shift or bump causes a small tremor of chills to run throughout me.
The speed builds slowly, all of my own volition. He seems more than happy to lay back and let me work, and with that kind of permission and free reign given, I’m not about to let it go to waste. I bounce in his lap, gasping at how quickly I can swing from feeling too full to too empty, a pendulum fluctuation one way then the other. My toes curl, and I reach for the headboard for leverage.
Pleasure contorts his face, and Garrett bites his bottom lip as I ride him, one of his hands comes up to swat my ass. Never one to be shown up, I slap him lightly. “No hitting,” I warn him. His smile darkens, and he spanks me even harder. When I slap him with that same energy, he lets out a rumbling,
“Mmm, fuck yes.”
He’s my kind of filthy, the kind to enjoy a salacious sharp pain that melts into something much more pleasurable. It’s yet another layer to uncover about this man. Time after time he surprises me, even in the smallest ways. Even this, the way I’m on top, seems like the last thing I’d expect from him. He’s utterly unpredictable.
Unexpectedly, Garrett’s taken his hands off the wheel for me, yet I still want more. I want to control his emotions the same way he’s controlled mine for the past three years, finding the quickest routes beneath my skin, like he has all the test answers written on his palms. I want Garrett to be the one at my mercy, to look up at me and know that for once, I’m the one on top. I’m the one in charge.
“Fuck yes,” he groans, back arching as I clench my muscles around him.
“You like how that feels? How tight I am?” I ask, tilting my head. He nods enthusiastically, lazy and gratified from the sensation. But it’s not enough for me. I take hold of his chin and give him a firm shake. “Use your words, Garrett.”
“You feel so goddamn good, Noel,” he says, staring holes through me.
Still not enough. I tighten my hold on his chin. “Tell me what you want? You want me to ride this dick? Want me to fuck you?”
Something about that phrasing lights a match under his ass because Garrett’s expression changes. His brows knit together and he appears as if he’s upset. The physical manifestation of so good it hurts.
“Fuck me,” he practically begs, each word a whine spilling from his kiss-swollen lips. “Fuck me, Noel. God, yes.”
That’s it. The golden ticket. I ride him harder, rising to the tip of his cock before I drop my weight down again. A hot burn splinters through my thigh muscles, warning me that I’m pressing too far—straining myself. A reminder to slow down. I ignore the heat, too overwhelmed with every other sensation rattling through me. Satisfaction from his submission. And lust. The hazy kind of lust that clouds judgments and usually leads to regrets.
I won’t regret this.
Not the way my ass can bring Garrett to his knees, willing to give or say anything I require. If this is even half of what he felt making me come, then I see why he wears that grin as often as he does. He knows that it’s a universal truth that he’s good. Hopefully now he sees that he’s not the only one with these skills. That two can play the game, and I’m what he needs. After all, a man in possession of great sexual prowess must be in want of a worthy opponent, or whatever Jane Austen said.
“I’m close,” he breathes, his eyes fluttering shut and his hands finding my hips. He holds me tight and his hips begin to meet me in the middle, practically knocking the breath out of me with each thrust. I press my hand flat on his neck and hold him down, staring into the face of a man barely keeping it together.
Leaning forward, I press my mouth to his in another messy, deep kiss. His moans are trapped between us, and when I feel he’s right at the edge, my lips brush his when I whisper,
“Be a good boy and let me have it, Garrett…”
He lets out a cry of elation and his hips snap irregularly as he fills his condom. I clench tight around
him, practically milking every last drop from his balls. I want him spent, worn out from all of this. Two minutes pass before he even opens his eyes.
“Goddamn, Noel…”
“I know.” My heart pounds in my chest, and I brush his damp hair from his forehead, amused with how drained he looks. I mean, I did just drain him, but still. He slides his hands up from my hips and over my chest. His hands feel like silk on my skin, perfectly warm against me, and when he brings one hand to my cheek, I curl into him.
“You’re just…” There’s that loss for words. I won.
“I know.”
Garrett stares up at me almost dreamlike. It feels uncharacteristic when every other instance of interaction he’s practically overflowed with confidence. Arrogance. Self-assuredness that toes the line of endearing and enraging. Not anymore. Now, Garrett’s lids are heavy and his hair is a mess, and he’s still hard inside me despite how worn out he is.
“Remind me again why we fought?” he asks.
“Because we weren’t busy fucking.”
“Ah.”
I don’t move out of his lap. I stay right where I am, staring him down and soaking in his bliss. Taking it on as my own. I made him feel the way he made me feel, and maybe even then some. I’ve won for the first time, but this is a victory I’m happy to share.
It doesn’t take him long to prepare for a rematch.
Or three.
Chapter 6
The sun is barely up for a few minutes before Garrett and I leave the hotel. He has to get home to shower—something about him not liking the shampoo and soap provided by room service—and I spent all last night thinking about how to approach this situation with Mom. Like at the restaurant, I figure it’s easier tearing off the bandage rather than prolonging the pain by going slowly. We just have to talk. That’s how we fix this.
In the car, Garrett fiddles with the radio. “They’re gonna ask where we were.”
“I texted Mom on the way there that I was staying at a hotel. Did you tell your dad?”
“No. I’m thinking I’ll just say we drank and I didn’t want to drive back. We talked about everything. You needed a shoulder to cry on.”
“Fuck off,” I say with a slight smile. “Are we ever gonna tell them?”
“You in some kind of hurry to let your mom know I hit?”
“Not really.” In fact, the last thing I ever want to do is involve Mom in my sex life. She knows I’m a slut based on my videos, but we never discuss that. We talk about guys I like, but never the guys I like for just one night. Right now, I’m not sure which Garrett is.
“Don’t worry about it. We can just be adults and have our fun. Assuming you do want to keep this up?” He cuts a glance my way, waiting for me to respond.
“I don’t know, I haven’t decided.”
“If your ass needs some time to heal, you can just say that.”
“Your ass is gonna need some time to heal when I get done kicking it,” I warn him. We laugh, and he turns the radio up louder.
He’s right. We should just feel it out and have our fun before we even consider telling Mom and Samuel. What if this doesn’t work out? Do I really want to be exes with the guy my mom wants me to call my brother? If Landry were around, I know for a fact that she’d slap me upside the head for ever crossing that line. Ask me something like, ‘what in the sweet home Alabama fuck?’
But I don’t regret it. Garrett’s a decent guy. I’m grateful to have him around, which is a crazy fucking thought considering how deeply I loathed him just two weeks ago. All it took was cutting the bullshit and putting it all out in the open. And getting my ass ate.
You know what that is?
Growth.
When we pull into the driveway, I feel my stomach sink. It’s go time. “Good luck,” Garrett says, pulling the key from the ignition. Inside, the house is eerily quiet. Garrett excuses himself to go take a shower, leaving me to find Mom all on my own. It’s not hard to find her down in the kitchen, working on cupcakes. She sets down her piping bag when I enter the room.
“Noel.”
Without another word, she hurries around the counter and pulls me into a tight hug. She smells like deep vanilla and calming lavender, and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly I turn into a little boy in her arms. The same kid who came crying to her about the mean neighborhood boys picking on him. The one who cried in her arms when he came out. And now the one with a sore heart after remembering that he made her cry last night.
“I’m sorry,” I say without thinking.
“Don’t say that,” she whispers, pulling back to wipe her eyes. “I’m sorry, Noel. I’m sorry for not considering how you felt. I’m sorry for dismissing your feelings, or making you think I didn’t care. I do care. You’re my baby. You’ll always be my baby, Noel.”
“I know,” I murmur, hugging her again. Tighter this time. “But I’m sorry I was so harsh. I could’ve said things better. I could’ve been a little less blunt.”
“It hurt to hear all of your thoughts, I won’t deny that. But Samuel and I talked about it. He told me he felt the same way you did. He didn’t want to bring it up because it wasn’t his place, but I needed to hear it from him and you both. I was actually baking these for when you came home.”
She gestures to the cupcakes, and up close, I can see that they’re chocolate and vanilla swirl. My favorite kind. “You didn’t have to.”
“I did,” she says fiercely. “I want to go back to how it was, and this is the first place I could think. I remember when I first taught you how to make these. Remember when you threw a fit—”
“I was mad that you wouldn’t let me stir it!” I laugh. I was a little shit back then, always giving her problems. Still, she found a way to put up with it and tolerate being around me. “These look really good, Mom. Thank you.”
“These are just the beginning. I’m going to get better about it. I want to go back to how things were with us. We’ll do all our old favorites. Watch cheesy girly movies, go shopping, feed ducks at the park. Everything we used to do. Just you and me.”
“I would like that. I really would like that.” It’s like finally breathing, hearing her tell me all of this. I’ve been strangling so long, desperate to get back to how we used to be, and now she’s swearing that we’ll fix it. We’ll pick up our old things and it’ll just be us.
“I want to spend more time with you, even if it’s fun to have both of my boys here together. You two have really been bonding, haven’t you?”
I smile wryly. If she only knew why that question was funny, she’d have a heart attack. “Yep,” I say, trying my best to sound nonchalant. “He’s actually not a demon spawn.”
“See, now if you’d just listened to me,” she lightly scolds, tapping my arm before she heads around the counter to continue baking. “I’m glad you’re home, Noel. I mean it. I’m happy you enjoyed your trip and your videos were successful, but I need my baby around more often, okay? Even when you’ve got a new apartment.”
“I promise, I’ll be around more often.”
“Good boy. Now, will you be a darling and check the mail for me?”
“Sure.”
I turn and head for the door when she stops me. “Noel?”
“Yeah?”
“I know I talk a lot about Garrett, but I never want you to think I care about you any less than him. I’m sorry I hurt you, and…I love you.”
Those words cut down any doubt I ever had in my mind. She means it, more than she’s meant anything else. “I love you too, Mom.” She holds my gaze for a long second before she smiles and shoos me away.
When I head out to grab the mail from the curb, I find Garrett washing his car in a tank top and a pair of mesh basketball shorts. It’s like he’s intentionally going out of his way to rev up all the single women that live in the neighborhood, feeding into their boy next door fantasies. The trick also works on stepbrothers.
“So,” he says, scrubbing the hood of his convertible. “How’
d it go?”
“It went better than expected. We talked. She totally cried.”
Garrett cracks a smile. “It’s okay, you can tell me if you did too.”
“Anyway,” I say, rolling my eyes. “We’re going to start making more plans together. Just me and her. I wanted to make sure that wouldn’t like—I don’t know—get on your nerves or something? I know you two also did stuff together. Furniture shopping for your new house?”
“Yeah,” he shrugs. “But I’m not stressed. She’s your mom, my man. I didn’t want to take her from you. And I’m happy you two got the chance to talk it out. One of these days I guess I should probably talk to my dad.”
“That’s not a bad idea.”
Samuel and Garrett’s relationship never seemed quite as strained to me as me and Mom, but maybe they were just better at hiding it from the world. After all, I’m the one that broadcasts my feelings and stories on the internet. Still, I really do want them to talk, if only to make Garrett’s emotions validated. He deserves the praise he’s looking for. We all do.
“I’m moving in a few days,” Garrett says. “Which means, in a few days, you’ll get to sleep in my bed.”
“God, you’re so fucking annoying,” I laugh. “It was never your bed. Get it through your head. It’s my room.”
“Yeah, well.” He pauses and puts away the large sponge he used to rub down his car. “You gonna miss me?”
I make a show of thinking it over, tapping my chin and all. “I don’t know.”
“I thought we were making progress here, Noel.”
“We are. And I might. Besides, you’ll be back at the house pretty often.”
“Why’s that?”
I start for the door, flipping through the mail as I walk. Over my shoulder, I say, “You still haven’t gotten your grand prize, remember?”