Page 124 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

Eli takes Peter’s free hand as they continue to kiss. Peter’s fingers find the fabric crotch of the jockstrap, damp with Eli’s arousal, pulling it down just enough to give him the space to maneuver while Eli still has it on.

“I don’t, uh . . .” Peter says with bated breath. “I don’t really know what to—”

“It’s okay,” Eli promises him, his grip on Peter’s wrist firm. “Can I show you?”

Peter nods enthusiastically. Eli bites at his bottom lip as he feels Peter’s fingers trace his folds carefully. It’s been too long since fingers that weren’t his own played with the shape of his vagina, tracing the fine line of skin there as Eli slowly begins to open for him.

There’s no stopping the hitch in his breath, the way his body wants to pull away at rediscovering the sensation.

“This is okay?” Peter asks, an adorable concern washing over his face.

“Yes.” Eli can’t hide the wanting in his voice. “Peter . . .” Eli gasps, urging Peter’s fingers deeper and deeper.

“Eli.” Peter’s breath is warm against Eli’s neck, his teeth grazing the skin and sending a shudder down Eli’s spine.

Eli isn’t sure when he lets go of Peter’s hand, his body going so pliant and loose that he can’t even keep a hold on Peter’s wrists, his hands gripping the sheets instead; it doesn’t matter, though, it’s easy enough for Peter to figure out, to follow the subtle movements of Eli’s body underneath him, to listen to the sweet mewls that slip from Eli’s lips as he urges Peter’s fingers further inside, pulling Peter in for a kiss as he traces along Eli’s clit and rubs softly in a way that Eli deems torturous.

And when Eli dares to open his eyes as Peter’s fingers hit him just right, he can see the focus on Peter’s face, that wanton determination, and it’s so obvious to Eli that Peter only has a single goal in mind.

To make Eli come.

He’s so close to saying the words, begging Peter to just fuck him, condom be damned, but he resists. It’s a line they can’t cross, not without testing, not without actually talking about it first, not without Eli spending an hour shooting water up his ass.

Not yet.

But he can’t stop himself from taking Peter’s cheeks in his hands, from kissing him over and over again as he lets his body fall onto Peter’s fingers, urging as he feels a puddle of Peter’s precum gather on his calf.

“Are you close, Eli?”

“Yeah, yes.” Eli nods, chasing that relief that seems to slip just past his fingers.

“You can come, Eli.”

Eli pleads with Peter silently, wanting nothing more than to give him exactly what he says. So . . .

He does.

With one final, only mildly embarrassing broken groan, Eli’s knees knit together almost automatically, like he can’t handle the release that comes, that wets Peter’s waiting hand, Eli’s back arching off the bed as Peter steals one final kiss.

“God . . .” Eli feels himself being pulled back to Earth, fully expecting regret to slap him across the face.

But it never arrives.

Even as he stares at Peter’s face and waits for the realization that they crossed a line they can’t come back from, he only sees Peter’s smile, the man out of breath as he looks at the mess in his hand.

“Sorry about that.”

“No, no. That was . . .” Peter looks at Eli again. “Amazing. Thank you.” He reaches up with his other hand, tucking a strand of Eli’s hair behind his ears and leaning down to steal one more kiss, this one just as slow, just as calm as their first all those weeks ago. “I guess I should get you a towel.”

“Well . . . you didn’t get to finish.” Eli doesn’t have to look down to feel Peter hard against him, leaking precum on Eli’s thigh.

“Yeah, but . . . I mean, you don’t have to, it—”

“Peter?”

“Mm-hmm?”

Eli captures Peter’s cheek, pulling him down once more. “I want to make you come.”