Page 49 of The Lipstick Flip

“We can do that.”

But Noah shook his head. He rubbed his cheek along the length of my cock. He buried his nose in my pubes. His hands found my thighs, and he stroked lightly, kneading the muscles there.

It took me a moment. And then I squeezed the back of his neck. “You want me to fuck you, baby?”

Eyes closed, he nodded.

I opened my mouth. And then I hesitated. On the apps, guys liked to talk a big game. They all wanted eight, nine, ten inches of dick. And then you met up, and they saw what that looked like, and they weren’t so sure. There were always size queens, sure, but a lot of guys didn’t know how to prep to take something that size. A lot of them didn’t have the mind game for it. And a lot of them, frankly, just freaked the fuck out when push came to shove, so to speak. When Noah and I had been together, we’d figured out what worked for us. But that had been over two years ago.

As usual, Noah must have had some sort of idea of what I was thinking. He leaned back, and an embarrassed smile crossed his face. “I might have…hoped something would happen tonight. With us, I mean.”

I couldn’t help myself; I laughed.

He slapped my thigh hard enough that I yelped, “Jesus Christ, Noah!”

“You’re a pig.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Never mind,” Noah said, getting to his feet. “Forget it.”

But I didn’t forget it. I wrapped my arms around him as he tried to slip away from me, and it turned into Noah trying to escape—mostly giggling, while I kissed him everywhere I could reach—and me tightening my hold until his back was to my chest, where I could suck and bite his neck while he shivered and made helpless noises. I palmed him through his trousers, letting him rut up against my hand. And then I pushed him face-down onto the bed.

His shoes and trousers came off easily, and then I had a moment to look at his ass: smooth, tight, round. In the weak light reflected off the snow, I couldn’t make out the color of his underwear, but it was another of those lacy pieces that was basically a thong. I squeezed his ass in both hands. I curled the waistband of his underwear around my fingers until that little string pulled tight between his cheeks. And then I ripped them off him.

Noah let out a shaky breath. He tried to sound mad. “Those were seventy dollars.”

“Get up there,” I told him.

He made a soft sound, but he scooted up the bed and pressed his face into the pillow.

I undressed. Shoes, set neatly together next to the nightstand. Socks folded neatly inside each shoe. Noah, ass up and face down, was trembling—the cold, probably partially. But not only the cold. I stepped out of my trousers and boxers and hung them over the back of a chair. It’d be nice if I kept my own room this neat. Maybe I just needed a twink to fuck before I went to bed every night.

When I moved behind Noah, he gave a bigger shiver, a full-body one. I could see his dick in the gap between his thighs—stiff, tucked up against his belly, ready. I settled on my knees, spread his cheeks with my hands, and went to work eating him out.

Noah let out a thin sound—pleasure, but also distress, like it was too much and not enough all at the same time.

It had been a while since I’d done this, but it came back to me quickly enough. When to lick. When to stiffen my tongue and drill into him. When to use my fingers. When to bring my chin up and scrape stubble across sensitive skin. When to bite.

Noah’s moans alternated with panting, alternated with “Howie” and “Oh fuck” and sounds that were almost words but got caught in his throat.

When he was boneless, when he jolted every time my tongue touched him because he was almost raw from it, I sat back on my heels. My jaw ached, but in that good way, and my face was sloppy from the job I’d done. But with Noah, it was always worth it. We’d never tested it because the fucking was too much fun, but I was pretty sure Noah could come like this if I let him.

Maybe another night, because I said, “Lube?”

He mumbled something that I thought, maybe, was “Drawer.”

Sure enough, plenty of lube.

“Shit,” I said. “I don’t have a condom.”

He turned his head on the pillow. He had sleepy, fucked-out eyes, and he was still breathing fast. “You said you hadn’t hooked up.”

“I haven’t.”

The snow-light made it hard to tell, but it looked like color rose in his face. “I don’t…it’s not like I do it a lot. And I get tested.”

So, that was an offer. And it was an offer I hadn’t expected.