Fingers digging into my hips, he thrusts up. We’re sliding against each other, hot and damp, friction and horniness doing all the work. My dick has delivered some less-than-stellar performances of late, but right now, it’s so hard it hurts.
“I like it like this, too, because I can see your hair, rash whisperer. You’re beautiful, you know that?”
“No, but you make me feel that way.”
When I slide a hand between us and Luke whimpers, I’m undone. Me, the experienced one, who should be exploring histrigger points and then edging him until he’s begging for it. Living up to my reputation, fucking him long and hard, not tenderly frotting and telling him he’s beautiful. But this sweet innocent man strips all my chicanery and performance away, until all that’s left is a simple truth: he does it for me in a way no one else ever has.
“I’m gonna come,” I pant, “if we carry on like this.”
“Me too.” He giggles breathily, licking into my mouth. “That’s why we’re doing it, isn’t it?”
His thighs fall open as he squirms underneath me, chasing, chasing, chasing it. Clumsily, I work us both with my hand, my face buried in his neck. Luke thrusts up hard into my fist. For sure, it’s straightforward, but it’s beautiful. I’m no longer grieving the loss of my sight, just as Luke discarded his inhibitions and anxieties when he discarded his hoodie. We’re simply two men, rubbing off on each other, chasing the same thing. As my balls tighten and that delicious familiar warmth explodes in my groin, Luke jerks, then stills, before spilling across our skin with a quiet gasp.
When we’ve recovered and I’ve employed a box of tissues and given us a rudimentary clean, I collapse back down next to him. We should probably shower, but I don’t want to go to sleep smelling of coconut shower gel. I want to smell of him.
Luke cuddles into me, skimming a hand along my hip.
“Okay?” I check.
“Yeah. Is your plaster cast okay?”
Truthfully? My arm throbs like a bitch. “Yeah, she’s waiting for us to offer her a post-coital cigarette.”
Luke twists his neck to kiss my chest. “Sex with you is funny.”
I try not to laugh. “That’s not exactly the vibe I’m aiming for.”
“What I mean is—it feels like having it with my best friend. It’s not awkward. I have no clue what I’m doing, not really. But it doesn’t matter.”
My chest fills with feelings almost too big to contain. I hug him close. I thought I’d known pure bliss two minutes ago, but this is it, right here, trumping anything that’s gone before. “Is that what I am, rash whisperer? Your best friend?”
He considers. “Yeah, I reckon so. Is that okay?”
“More than.”
A surge of protectiveness rolls through me, which is crazy. He doesn’t need a guy like me watching over him. Luke’s tough; he could probably take down a lion with a spoon. And yet here I am, ready to leap in front of him anyhow, like an overenthusiastic, clueless golden retriever.
He fiddles with my nipple barbell. “I want to have anal sex with you,” he confides, somewhat unexpectedly. Not unexpected that he wants it—he’s a curious gay bloke—but that he’s informing me so bluntly. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”
“Interesting. It never crossed my mind,” I tease, amused. “Are you sure? There’s no rush if you’re not ready; it’s not the be all and end all of gay sexual identity, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. But the idea of having it with you fills my head. So I guess that means I’m ready.”
Difficult to argue that. My spent dick half wakes at the thought of him imagining us having anal. My own imaginings in that direction have been fertile since the first time I got my hands on his trim, firm arse. “Which way around do you picture us?”
“Both ways, I think. Which way do you like to do it? Alaric says most gay men suss this out about each other early on.”
“We’re not all like Alaric, you know.” I stifle a smile. Luke will be cross if I tell him this conversation is adorable. “Thank fuck. But as Alaric would have told you, if you’d asked him, I’m very happy with both. Though I haven’t bottomed for a while—I don’t do that for just anyone.” I smooth down his hair. Now I’m privileged enough to see it, I can’t keep my hands off it. It’ssurprisingly silky and smells divine. “Is that what you want? For me to bottom?”
“Maybe?” He eyes me nervously. “I’ll be more in control. My anxiety is telling me that might be best.”
His anxiety isn’t going to be part of us fucking, if I have anything to do with things. “When do you want to do it? Now? Tonight?”
“Nah, next week sometime.” A laugh bursts from him. “Of course tonight, idiot.”
CHAPTER 29
LUKE
