“No reason.” I pick my bag up off the floor, heavier than it was when I left with all of the things I bought on the way back to campus. “Just wait down here. I’ll yell for you when I’m ready.”
“Why are you being weird?”
“Mike. Please.”
He stares at me for a long moment, but then he turns with a sigh and goes to flop down onto the couch with the energy of someone who hates being told to wait.
When I’m locked in my bedroom, I unzip my bag and take out the candles. I bought four on the way home on the off chance that Nate wasn’t screwing with me.
Candles could be nice.
They go around the room, the end table, the dresser, my desk. I check to make sure nothing is around them to start a fire.
Once the candles are lit, I take out my phone and open the playlist I spent way too long on last night. Full of songs I think Mike would enjoy, judging by the stuff I hear coming from his speakers and the music his band plays. All slower and more appropriate for themood.
It looks good, I think. The light is soft, the music is low, and the room smells like warm vanilla.
I hope he likes it.
When he comes upstairs, he stands in the doorway with an expression I’ve never seen on him before. I cross my arms. “Don’t make fun of me.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but then he closes it. And I think I’ve read his reaction completely wrong when his eyes do the thing where they get a little too watery.
He looks around the room, at the candles and the music, and then back at me to ask softly, “Did you make a playlist for me?”
I nod, and he crosses the room, kissing me with more affection than I’ve ever felt in my entire life. I walk him back to the bed, not breaking the kiss until the back of his knees hit the mattress and he sits down, looking up at me in the candlelight, his eyes still wet.
Looking up at me like that, he almost looksvulnerable.
I reach for the hem of his shirt. My shirt, technically, but I don’t say anything about it this time. He reaches for mine next, and I help him take it off. He spreads his hands flat against my torso, appreciating my abs with fingers cold from the rings he wears.
This feels different.
We’ve been in this bed a hundred times, sleeping together, coming together, but it’s never been like this. Slow, quiet,romantic.
He slides up the bed when he’s had enough, and I follow, hovering over him to kiss his lips before I move down to his neck. His collarbone. His chest. He tilts his head back and sighs when I kiss his pointed nipple, his hands sliding into my hair, resting there.
I work my way down to the skin below his ribs that makes him inhale when my lips brush him there. His stomach. His waistband.
His hands tighten in my hair.
I get his jeans undone, and he lifts his hips.
He’s not wearing anything underneath, and his cock has been hard the entire time. I take him in my hand, stroking him once, and then I pause, looking up at him.
His eyes are on my face. Heavy-lidded, watching me with this soft look that he doesn’t try to hide. I press my lips to the tip of his cock, a single kiss, and he makes a broken sound in response. “Fuck me, Alex. Come on.”
I nod, the only thing I can do right now as I try not to come in my pants at the sight of him so undone already. My finger finds his hole while I squeeze his cock, pumping up and down the way I’ve learned he likes.
My finger slides inside of him, up to the first knuckle, without resistance. “I already prepped myself,” Mike says, pushing back on my finger.
I meet his eyes as I slide one finger in all the way, and he’s right. He’s already open, soft and slick and ready for me. But I reach for the lube I left on the bed anyway, wanting to be sure. I would never forgive myself if I hurt him.
“No, I’m ready—”
“Please. Let me,” I say, and he exhales in response, dropping his head back onto the pillow as I add a second finger. It goes in easily, too.
The third is tighter, but his hips shift, chasing the feeling. I take my hand off his dick to press on his stomach. “Be still,” I tell him, curling my fingers to hit that spot inside of him that makes him jump.
