My cock is pressed against the zipper of my jeans, and I already regret wearing them. I wouldn’t care if they were the most popular pants in the history of the universe, right now they’re uncomfortable as hell. I should have stayed true to my trusty sweats. Damn Tricia.
Law pulls away from my fingers with a pop and a last soft kiss to the pad of my thumb. “Bedroom,” he orders.
“Dinner?” I reply stupidly. I don’t know why I say it. I don’t care about dinner. I’ll skip dinner for the rest of my life if it means Law will keep doing what he’s doing.
“Later,” he all but growls.
“Good,” I say. It seems we’re only able to come up with one word at a time, and I wholeheartedly approve. Who needs to waste time with full sentences?
Then we’re kissing again and stumbling across the apartment toward his bed. Luckily, it’s a small place, so in no time, we reach the bedroom. We land on the bed together with no finesse whatsoever. My elbow presses into Law’s gut and his teeth clatter against mine, but who cares? I like the realness of the moment.
Law maneuvers me onto my back and kneels above me. He’s breathing harshly, in perfect rhythm with my own panting breaths.
I wiggle out of my T-shirt and throw it over the edge of the bed. Law pulls his own shirt off. Seeing all those cut muscles and the six-pack—something I’ll never have because I’m too lazy and only tolerate the gym and love junk food—makes me self-conscious about my body in a flash.
I cross my hands over my chest and Law blinks as if trying to clear the haze from his mind. “What just happened?” he asks.
“What?” I repeat, even though what I mean is, Let’s turn off the lights and do it in the dark.
“You,” he accuses. “You turned cold.”
I want to wave him off and say it’s nothing, but it’s Law. We’re friends, first and foremost. There isn’t, and never has been, any room for games between us, so I just blurt it out. “I got self-conscious.” He looks at me like he truly doesn’t understand what might have possessed me to feel that way. I wave my hand toward his upper body. “You’re very hot.”
“And?” He cocks his head to the side, still confused but looking a bit more amused.
“I’ve got a Snickers body,” I say. “Not in the sense that I look like a Snickers bar. Just that I eat too many Snickers and it shows.”
He blinks a couple of times and then he lowers his head. I figure he’s checking if what I’ve said is true, and I’m instantly regretful. If his brain was in some kind of misty state of lust that prevented him from seeing how not in-shape I am, I should have sucked it up and not said a word. Maybe he’ll now look at me and be all, You do look like a noodle. What was I thinking? I better go and find me a hotter hook-up. Sayonara, bitch.
Law’s shoulders shake. It takes me a moment to realize that the bastard is laughing.
“I don’t know about you, but sex feels real good right about now,” I say loudly. “Tell me, as an expert, is the feeling of intense humiliation part of the package?”
He lifts his head and smiles at me. “Sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I swear. It’s just… Snickers body. You should have your own podcast or something. I’d listen to every episode. I swear.”
“I’ll call it The Dad Bod Pod with Andy. Don’t forget to click subscribe.” I roll my eyes.
Law’s eyes track over my body again. Slowly, so I can feel his eyes on every inch of me. He’s not laughing anymore, but I squirm because it feels like a horrible version of Judgement Day. You, Andy Carter, are… not worthy of having sex.
Law’s gaze is still fixated on me, but before I can do anything, like hide under the sheets or put a bag over his head, he kisses me on my solar plexus. His lips linger, and all the arousal that had started to wane while I was worrying about my lack of abdominal muscles, comes back with a vengeance.
Law keeps kissing me all over my upper body. My chest, my stomach, my flanks, my hip bones. He doesn’t leave a single inch unkissed.
“Do you know what I see when I look at you?” he asks in between kisses.
I shake my head, unable to form words as he flicks his tongue over my nipple and scrapes it with his teeth. My hips punch up.
“I see somebody I’m very attracted to. Somebody I want to touch. Somebody I want to kiss. Somebody I want to see with my hands all over him.”
He slides both of his palms over my chest and stomach. “We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t find you hot as fuck,” he says.
I take a deep breath and let the insecurity go. This is Law. The guy has never lied to me and has always spoken his mind. If he says he’s attracted to me, he means it.
“I don’t care about six-packs. If you want one, I’ll help you train. But otherwise, you don’t need it to be the hottest person I’ve ever been with.” Law keeps talking and kissing, and I keep squirming and fighting the need to come right here and now.
It’s a feat that is doubled in difficulty as Law pops open the button of my jeans and drags the zipper down. My dick jumps up like it’s a prisoner being freed from its shackles.
He straightens himself as he grabs the waistband of my jeans with both hands. “Lift,” he orders, and I immediately push my hips up. He drags my pants down along with my underwear. He’s being very efficient, and I wholeheartedly approve. My cock slaps against my abdomen. Precum forms a line between the head of my still bobbing dick and the skin of my stomach. Law stares at it, mesmerized, and before my mind can compute what he’s doing, he swipes the precum up with his thumb, lifts it to his mouth, and licks it clean.
I grab the base of my dick with shaky fingers and squeeze so hard that I half expect my eyeballs to pop out like I’m some sort of a cartoon character.
Do not come, Andy, I lecture myself. I forbid you. This is your Super Bowl. Or whatever the hell the sex equivalent of the Super Bowl is. Do not blow it.
That last thought does not help at all, since blowing is exactly what my body wants to do.
Law seems to decide he might as well make my task more challenging. He takes hold of my cock, right above my own fist, and I watch as he lowers his head and licks over the slit of my dick as if in slow motion.
I howl. There’s literally no other word for the sound that comes out of my mouth. Law chuckles against the sensitive flesh, making goosebumps rise all over my skin. He then proceeds to take the crown of my dick into his mouth and suck on it.
I dig my nails into the mattress and force myself not to thrust so far into his mouth that I sink down his throat. It takes inhuman willpower, something I never thought I had, to keep my thrusts shallow. I mean, I don’t want to choke the guy. Seems a bit rude when he’s giving me so much pleasure. If I’d known a mouth on my cock would feel that good, I would have trained to become a contortionist and done it myself. My own mouth might not be in the same league as Law’s but based on how I’m feeling right now, even a poor substitute would do the trick.
By now, Law’s head is bobbing up and down my shaft, and all I can do is repeat, “Oh shit! Fuck! Oh shit!” on a loop. It’s so good that my toes curl, and I just want to stay here forever, lying on Law’s bed with my cock in his mouth.
Law pries my fingers loose from the base of my dick and starts jacking me in his fist as he continues sucking me.
“Too good! Too much!” I babble, but there’s no stopping Law, and to be fair, I’m not really trying.
It’s over embarrassingly quickly. Law’s hand moves up and down once, twice. He lifts his head and looks me deep in the eyes while he presses his thumb to the slit and rubs at it, before sliding his palm down again, and that’s all it takes for me to go off like a Fourth of July fireworks display.
Ropes of cum shoot from my dick. The orgasm is like an explosion. There’s no easing into it. It’s just suddenly there, and it leaves me shaken and wrung out, panting on Law’s bed like I’ve just ran a marathon. Even my ears are ringing, so there might very well have been a real explosion, and I just didn’t notice in my blissed-o
ut state.
My limbs feel like jelly, and my heart slams against the inside of my chest like it’s got a hammer and is trying to chip its way out of there and make a run for it. It’s the perfect plan. No way would I be able to chase after it in my current state. I’d die a happy man, though, so there’s that.
Law’s palm moves over my cock once more before he throws himself on his back next to me. He pushes his sweats down with one swift move and grabs his cock. His hand moves so quickly that I can only blink as I watch, mesmerized as he jerks himself off. It only takes a couple of tugs, and then he’s coming with a loud groan. Cum spills out, covering his stomach and chest. It gathers between the dips and valleys of his abdominal muscles, forming little ponds there. My spent dick jerks as if giving its nod of approval. Law sprawls out on the bed, panting.
We stay quiet for the longest time, and even though I’m lying here, naked, my dick limp and my body covered with remnants of my orgasm and sweat, it’s not awkward or embarrassing.
Eventually, Law turns his head toward me. His eyes are sleepy and there’s a lazy grin on his face. “So?” His voice is scratchy and, since it might have something to do with the fact that my cock was in his mouth, it’s unbelievably hot.
“We might have to retest the hypothesis.” I sound like I’ve been drugged, and I can feel the dopey smile on my face.
“What was the hypothesis again?” He turns to his side and throws his arm over my chest and presses his face into my neck. Law Anderson likes to cuddle. Who would have thought?
“Sex with Lawrence Anderson is good,” I say.
He smiles against my neck. “Just good?”
“Fantastic,” I amend.
“That’s right,” he says with a rumbly, happy voice and falls asleep almost immediately.
I’m not the least bit sleepy, though. My body is buzzing with the aftershocks of my orgasm, and I feel more alive than ever before. How did I not know sex could be that good? I’m definitely up for another round. I mean, I could go right now, but it’d probably be rude to wake Law up to demand him to fuck me. I should reciprocate anyway. Work a little on my oral skills. I look down at Law’s body, and even in near darkness, it’s magnificent. I definitely want to touch and kiss and lick, and I can hardly wait for the morning to arrive, so I could do just that.
But morning is still hours away, and since I’m an overthinker at the best of times, doubts start creeping in. What’s the etiquette here, anyway? Should I go? Should I stay? If I stay, should I sleep here? On the couch? Sit at the kitchen table the whole night and pretend I’m an early riser in the morning?
Would Law even want me to stay? Maybe he hopes I’ll go away before the morning?
I turn my head to look at Law. His lips are slightly parted as he breaths softly. His eyelids flutter as he falls deeper into sleep, but he just keeps holding me, and slowly, I start to relax. Law and I are friends. If he wanted me gone, he would have said so.
It feels good to be held, so I burrow even closer, and before I know it, I’m asleep too.
16
Law
I don’t know what to expect when I wake up in the morning, so I keep my eyes closed to avoid reality for as long as possible.
I manage a mere minute before my alarm clock starts screaming its head off. Andy flings himself to a sitting position at the obnoxious sound. He looks rumpled and adorable, pillow creases covering one cheek and his hair a mess.
“Where’s the fire?” he asks, blinking rapidly to get rid of the haze of sleep.
It takes him a couple of moments to figure out the shrieking is coming from my alarm clock. He stares at the thing with utter confusion for another moment before he flings himself back on the bed. “Drown it. Throw it out of the window. I don’t care what happens to it, just for the love of God, destroy that satanic noise maker,” he mumbles as he presses the pillow over his ears.
I quickly turn off the alarm because Andy looks like he’s ready to burn the thing himself.
I lie back down next to Andy. I should probably get out of bed, but a lazy Sunday morning feels too good to pass up.
“Why does your alarm clock make such ungodly sounds? I mean, mine isn’t like an angel choir either, but at least it doesn’t make all the babies’ ears bleed in fifty-mile radius,” Andy mumbles.
He snuggles in closer to me, still sleepy, and I find it hard to think because, man does it feel good. “Otherwise I’ll be too tempted to stay in bed,” I say, explaining the logic behind my obnoxious alarm clock.
“You’re weird,” Andy concludes. He throws his arm over my chest and falls asleep again. I don’t move, even though I was planning to go to the gym. It’s not like me at all. I used to be the guy that snuck in a workout on Christmas morning. Training was my life, and even though my dreams of going pro have been dashed, I still train religiously, if not as intensely as before. Yet here I am, in bed on a perfectly good Sunday morning and I’m not even sorry, because having Andy cuddled up against me feels so good. After a while, I doze off too.
I wake up some time later. The sun is shining through the open curtains, and I’m alone in bed. There’s noise coming from the kitchen nook, though, so after pulling on a pair of sweats, I head that way.
Andy’s back is to me. He’s also wearing a pair of my sweats, but he’s so much slimmer than I am that they have fallen low on his hips. The dimples on his lower back are on full display and if he were to bend over even a little bit, I would probably have a great view of his bare ass.
He’s stirring something in a bowl, stopping every once in a while to throw in extra flour. I pad over and stop directly behind him.
“Pancakes?” I ask. Andy jumps and drops the spoon into the batter. He scowls at me over his shoulder. “Sorry,” I say, but I’m really not.
“I figured we’d need some sustenance since last night we kind of got distracted before we could eat,” Andy says and flushes, and it’s all kinds of cute. He fishes the spoon out of the batter and pushes past me. In a minute, the kitchen is filled with the smell of pancakes, and my stomach growls.
Andy points to the table with the spatula. “Sit. Let me take care of you.”
I blink, suddenly overcome with emotion because I don’t think anybody has ever said something like that to me. The weird thing is how much I like it. My parents have raised me to be independent. They have never coddled me. Whatever the opposite of helicopter parents is, they’re it, and I haven’t minded. But as Andy slides a plate of pancakes in front of me and squeezes my shoulder as he passes me to get the utensils, it feels nice.
We eat our pancakes in silence and then we do the dishes. I wash and Andy dries, and I have to give myself a stern talking-to while we’re at it because, as much as I like this whole domestic morning routine we’ve got going on, it’s not real. Andy and I are not a real couple. We have an arrangement and no matter how good it feels to play house with him, it’s not something I should let distract me.
After we’re done cleaning up, we both lean against the kitchen counter. I’m not sure what to do next. I don’t want Andy to leave, but if he stayed it would only feed this weird delusion I have, where it feels like Andy and I are something more than a hook-up. I don’t know why it’s so hard to keep my thoughts in check.
I clear my throat, determined to tell Andy that it’s been nice, but I have to go to the gym now. Before I can do that, he turns toward me and kisses me. Every rational thought flees my head like it’s being chased out by a wildfire. What’s left is only raging desire and a need so deep that I can hardly take it. I’ve never felt this attracted to a guy before. There’s something about Andy that just does it for me, and I’m beginning to think I might not be as well equipped to handle this situation as I thought I would be.
“Can I try something?” Andy asks.
All I can do is nod mutely. I have no idea what Andy has planned, but with a single kiss, he’s turned me on enough that I’d probably agree with anything.
I don’t know what exac
tly I expect, but it’s definitely not Andy lowering himself to his knees in front of me. He looks up through the mess of his hair and, without breaking eye contact, pulls my sweats down, freeing my dick. I’m rock hard embarrassingly quickly, and when Andy places a soft, innocent kiss on the tip of my cock, my whole body stiffens. I give myself a stern lecture and recite some capitals again because I’m not going to blow in under a minute like a freaking thirteen-year-old who sees a pair of boobs at his first boy-girl pool party.
Andy licks his lips, seemingly unsure how to continue. I can almost hear the clicks and whirls as his brain tries to take the scientific route and compute the best way to approach a blowjob.
I cup his jaw with my hand and make him look at me. “Just… follow your gut. Do what feels right. Don’t overthink it.”
Andy licks his lips and nods, a determined expression on his face. “Tell me if I do something wrong.”
I let out a strained laugh. “Not possible.”
He cocks his head to the side. He looks intrigued at once. And thoughtful. This does not bode well.
“You sure about that?” Andy asks, lips inches away from my dick. The puff of warm breath makes all hairs stand up on my body, and I grip the edge of the counter so that I won’t push myself into Andy’s mouth. “What if I bite?” he continues, studying my cock with the concentration of a scientist looking at a never-before-seen species.
I close my eyes and let my head fall back as I groan and try not to let my frustration show, because my dick is rock hard and in front of Andy’s face. I can feel his breath on it, and he wants to discuss the effect of biting my dick, which I’m sure even the most inexperienced of people know not to do. “Yeah, maybe don’t do that.”
“What if I suck too hard, and you end up getting a hickey? On your penis,” he clarifies unnecessarily.
I rub my forehead. “I’m not sure if that’s even possible.”
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