“Gonna come,” I said on a moan.
“Yeah?” His hand sped up; his hips followed.
“Yeah, baby. You’re gonna make me come.”
He groaned again, deep and rough, a sound I was already learning meant he was close too—and that he liked my mouth for more than just kissing. Perfect, because I’d never been good at shutting up, and sex only made it worse.
His cock pressed harder, and I couldn’t help picturing it—how good it would feel to have him rock into me instead of just against me.
“Fuck,” I gasped. “I want that cock inside me.”
His hand went frantic—pulling, stopping, picking up again in a rhythm that was about to send me over. One last twist of his grip over my crown, and I was done.
“Ah—fuck—” I closed my eyes and rode it, his hand still stroking me as my cock spilled into his palm, over and over. My body shook with the aftershocks, and then I felt it—the heat of his own cum against the small of my back, the sharp inhale he couldn’t quite hold back. His chest was hard against my own, his heartbeat frantic against mine, our rhythms falling back into sync.
And then he didn’t pull away. Didn’t roll off me.
He wrapped an arm over my chest, fitting his body close, not minding the mess one bit, and pressed kisses to my nape.
“Danny,” he whispered between them.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He nuzzled my neck, kissed me again. “Just wanted to say your name right now.” His arm tightened around me. “Like this.”
Fuck—this guy. How had anyone ever let him go?
“Did you have a bad breakup?” I blurted, because I couldn’t fucking help myself.
He tensed behind me, then relaxed a second later, wiping his hand on the sheets before bringing it back to trail his knuckles over my chest. “Not really. We just wanted different things. She wanted to go back, and I—”
And hewanted to stay here.
The air shifted, thickening with something uneasy this time.
I shook my head and turned in his arms, catching his mouth immediately. Nothing was pulling me out of this moment. Nothing.
“I’m going to live in LA,” I said. “I used to travel a lot, but I’ve got an internship now. A regular job. I have to stay put.” I swallowed. “It’s only a two- or three-hour time difference. That’s nothing.”
His eyes moved quickly over my face, lips parting. His cheeks were still flushed, a sheen of sweat on his skin. “Why are you—”
“I want to stay in touch.” I licked my lips. “I wasn’t kidding about that. We’ll figure out dates. I’ll come back. Maybe not right away, but—fuck, I don’t know. We’ll figure something out.” I held his gaze. “Do you want that?”
He started nodding before I even finished. “I want that.”
I laughed, bright and unguarded.
His grin spread wide in response.
We were together the rest of the afternoon, into the night. His roommates came and went, but we stayed wrapped up in the bubble of his room, talking about everything.
I told him about the jumps—how much my parents hated them, how much I loved them.
I told him about my friends back home.
I told him I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life… even though that wasn’t entirely true.
Because even if I didn’t know exactly what I wanted, I knewhowI was going to find out.
