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“You cold?” Micah asked, and pulled the blanket over them.
“Wasn’t cold,” Jake said. He shifted so he could spoon Micah from behind and rubbed his thickening dick against Micah’s ass.
Micah laughed. “You’re insatiable.” But he didn’t pull away.
“Around you? Of course I am.” Jake’s stomach gave a deep rumble. “Apparently, I’m also hungry.”
“Can I take you out for dinner?”
“Trying to wine and dine me so you can get me in your pants, Mr. Reynolds?” Jake wrapped his arms tighter around Micah’s chest. “Hint. I’m a sure thing.”
Humming, Micah shoved his ass back against Jake. “I like that. How sure you are. I wish I could be more like that.”
“You were pretty sure earlier. All bossy and demanding while you fucked my mouth.”
This time it was Micah’s turn to shiver.
“Cold?” Jake asked.
“Turned on, more like.” Micah rolled to his back and glanced at Jake before staring at the ceiling. “I meant what I said earlier. About you fucking me. That wasn’t just orgasm-brain talking. Do you… Is that something you want?”
“That is definitely something I want, Mi.” Jake’s stomach gave another rumble, and he laughed. “But I think it needs to wait until after dinner.” He leaned forward so he could whisper in Micah’s ear. “And you’ll want to feed me something besides your cock and cum so I’ve got all my strength for tonight.”
Micah shivered again. “Then we should probably get out of bed before I need a cold shower to be decent in public.”
Micah
Dinner was at a beachfront seafood shack, where they gorged on fried clams and chips. The noises Jake made with each bite of clam strips were practically orgasmic. Micah giggled at the thought because, yeah, he’d heard those sounds enough times in the past few weeks to know how accurate his thought was.
Jake paused with a fried strip halfway to his mouth. “What?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone enjoy their food so much.”
“Are you kidding? These are amazing. I can’t believe I’ve gone nineteen years without knowing they exist.” He dipped the golden-brown morsel into the tartar sauce and shoved the whole thing in his mouth, groaning as he chewed. “I might have to come back again just to get more of them.”
“Just for the clam strips?” Micah teased. He heard the note of longing in his voice even though he tried to tamp it down. He knew what he hoped Jake would say and felt disappointment stab him in the chest when Jake only shrugged and shoved more food in his mouth.
“The company’s not bad,” Jake said after he’d swallowed, and Micah’s hopes soared.
He wanted this with Jake, wanted to be Jake’s even after they were all back at school. He wanted to visit Stanford in the fall as Jake’s boyfriend, and have Jake show him San Francisco, introduce him to the Castro, maybe even…he shivered…maybe even take him to the Folsom Street Fair, which had sounded unbelievable when Jake described the leather community’s annual festival to him the night of the cast party. It was like street market meets meat market with an orgy thrown into the mix. In short, it sounded like his wildest fantasies come to life, and he wanted to experience it with Jake by his side.
Taking a chance, Micah reached across the table and interlaced his fingers with Jake’s. For a second Jake stared at their entwined hands with almost a scowl on his face, but then he smiled. He gave Micah’s hand a squeeze before disengaging and reaching into Micah’s basket to pluck out several chips, even though he still had a few left in his own.
“Hey!” Micah protested, but it gave him a thrill whenever Jake did this. It was an oddly intimate gesture, taking food from another person’s plate, and spoke of a level of comfort and familiarity that delighted him. It was as if they knew each other well enough for the usual boundaries of personal space to be suspended. It also made Micah feel as if Jake considered him part of his world, considered what Micah had to be his as well.
Is the reverse true? Micah reached into Jake’s basket and pulled out a particularly plump clam strip, pleased when Jake not only didn’t protest, but watched Micah bring it to his mouth, his eyes growing hungry and dark as Micah’s lips parted. He groaned as Micah delicately took a bite, eyes riveted on the way Micah’s mouth moved. And yeah, he was deliberately drawing it out, keeping Jake focused on him.
When Micah licked his lips to capture an errant crumb and Jake groaned again, he had to cover his smile by taking a sip of soda. It was heady, this ability to turn Jake on and the way it felt to be held within Jake’s heated gaze. He’d never thought of eating as a sexual act before. Hell, he’d never really thought of anything as a sexual act except, you know, sex. Possibly the biggest revelation of the past week was how much sex was a part of everything, even when it was something as mundane as… Well, Micah couldn’t actually think of something that was mundane enough not to be about sex because everything seemed to be about sex when he was with Jake. Everything became a turn-on because of the man sitting next to him, licking tartar sauce off his fingers in a way that reminded Micah of the feel of his dick in Jake’s mouth. And yeah, that was totally intentional on Jake’s part. He could tell from the smirk. God, he couldn’t wait for when they got back to his house, and he shifted on the picnic bench as he started to get hard.
Jake leaned closer to him. “If you’re squirming now, wait until you’ve had my dick in your ass.”
The low growl in his ear brought Micah’s cock to full mast, and he shivered. “Yes, please?”
“Patience.” Jake sat back and shuffled the chips in his basket around, looking for any remaining clams. Micah shoved the rest of his food Jake’s way, suddenly no longer hungry. “You sure?” Jake asked, and Micah nodded, then regretted it as Jake began to eat with mind-numbing slowness. He inspected every morsel, arranging them from the smallest crumb, which was probably only breading, to the longest strip, and methodically working his way up the line.
Micah distracted himself from thoughts of grabbing Jake’s hand and dragging him to the parking lot by counting the boats in the nearby marina, but then Jake started making smacking and moaning noises. When that failed to get Micah to look at him, he interspersed a few, “Oh, baby, yeah,” keeping his voice quiet enough that only Micah could hear him. Deciding it would be best to give Jake the attention he wanted before this turned into the scene from When Harry Met Sally, Micah refocused on him, and nearly groaned at the number of clam strips still in the basket. Jake grinned, then stretched and pushed up from the table, saying he needed to take a piss.
“Now?” Micah asked.
