Page 37 of Muscle Cub

He sucked in a breath and clenched.

“Sorry.” I froze. “Couldn’t help myself.” I waited, giving him time to adjust. I tried to revel in the sensation of his tight heat—being inside this gorgeous man was a big fucking deal—but waiting made me nervous. How long could I sustain this?

He finally nodded for me to continue. I pulled out halfway, but when I pushed into him again, the glide was more of a wobble. I was losing it and only barely managed to get back inside him.

I stayed there, not moving.

“Can you get yourself off?” I whispered.

He looked at me, realization dawning in his eyes.

“I want you to get off with me inside you,” I said.

I held myself in place, silently willing him to hurry.

His muscles contracted as he jerked himself, threatening to expel me, and I prayed I could last long enough to at least give him this pleasure.

With a grunt, he came across his belly, and I slipped out.

I lay beside him as he caught his breath.

He glanced down at my softening cock and reached for me. “Do you wanna…”

I couldn’t. Powerless to do anything else, I kissed him. “Not everybody has to get off every time, right?”

He smiled and stroked my cheek.

I would cling to the memory of him looking at me this way.

He sat up suddenly, rubbed his arms, and looked around for his clothes. “Brr. It’s cold.”

Oh fuck. No. Don’t go. It was too soon, but how could I keep him?

“I could make us a fire,” I said hopefully. “I brought some starter logs.”

He grinned and kissed me. “Fire it up!”

I scooted my bag chairs closer to the fire pit, arranging them so they were closer together too.

Austin sat, huddled in another of my sweatshirts, watching me.

“Can I get you something to drink?” I pointed at the cooler, and rattled off a variety of beers, waters, and sports drinks.

“No juice boxes?”

“Shut up.”

“You’re such a total dad.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Daddy!” Austin cried in a high-pitched approximation of a twink in a porn.

“Oh my God! That’s horrifying. Never do that again.”

My mortification sent him into a fit of giggles. “Prof.” He pointed at me and held his belly as he doubled over in silent wheezing laughs. “Your face.”

“All right. Let’s get this conversation out of the way.” I knew the shift to my deep lecturing voice would play right into his schtick—or whatever it was. I honestly couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not, but it couldn’t be avoided any longer. “How old are you exactly?”