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“No, I didn’t,” he says. “You’re not a coward right now. You came out to me, and even though you played a bunch of games, you didn’t let it last. You just told me some shit that made me want to know you better. Like you actually think about things, unlike most people,” he whispers as he shakes his chin free, leaning in to brush his lips over mine. “I’m obsessed with your lips. And your throat.” He gives my Adam’s apple a nip, sending lightning down to my junk.

“Just because I let you fuck with me doesn’t mean you get to be in charge.” He bites at my neck—hard—and rubs the bulge in my pants. “I liked what you did. You’re good, and it felt great. And it was worth it, like you said. But now you’re out and I’m out, to each other at least. Now we’re getting pizza and we’re gonna watch a movie and the time for games is over, angel.”

I want to say I’m sorry for what I did to him. For making everything hurt. But as his lips find mine, I realize I’m not. It’s the only way I could have done it…and it led to this.

Miller kisses deep but gentle, rubbing on me as he does. My hands are going at him too.

He pulls his mouth off mine with a laugh. “We can’t come before pizza.”

“Why not?” I breathe, giving his lower lip a suck.

“I’m not driving thru with cum in my pants.”

That makes me laugh. “Fair enough.” He pulls away, and I rub my sore mouth.

We get the pizza—Hawaiian, which apparently we both like—and eat it in the car as I drive us back. Miller ends up sort of feeding me as we talk about music. I like more classic rock, and he likes that and pop, too. By the time I pull into the driveway, I feel so good. Warm and fed, with my dick hard, wanting to get in and fuck around with him on the couch.

I carry the pizza box and he opens the door. I set it in the fridge as he scrolls the TV for something we can watch. When I get to the couch, he’s got the show True Detective locked and loaded. He’s sitting with his back against one of the couch’s arms and his legs out in front of him. Instead of moving for me, he spreads his legs.

Twelve

Josh

Ezra eases himself down on my left leg, smirking as he rubs his dick against me. Just when I’m reaching to touch it, he leans forward and wraps his arms around my neck.

“Miller,” he rasps just under my ear. “What are you doing to me?”

Our cheeks brush as his lips find mine, his tongue gliding firm but gentle into my mouth as his arm settles around my shoulders. He holds me so close our pecs press together, both our chests pumping as we breathe heavy. His free hand finds my cock through my jeans, cupping it and teasing, trying to stroke through the fabric. He’s rubbing his stiff dick against my leg, but sometimes we get so lost in kissing that he stops moving his hips, putting all his focus on our joined mouths and his hand on my cock.

This is what it’s like to kiss a boy. My head reels.

This is making out. Feels so good.

I love his dick so much it makes me dizzy, but the kissing—fuck. The way he can’t stop even when we both can’t breathe; he goes for little kisses at those moments: soft and quick, no tongue, and once, when we’re both really panting, he presses his cheek to mine, his hand trailing up into my hair.

“You’re so perfect.” Muffled words. His mouth against my neck. I stroke my fingers through his hair, too, tickling down his nape.

“You are.” He feels good atop me. Warm and heavy.

“Is this okay?” His words are soft and raspy. I lean back, to look up into his eyes. I find them glazed and stretched wide, his cheeks pink, lips parted. So I kiss them. We kiss like we’re going for the damn Olympics. When we pull apart to pant again, I whisper near his ear, “You’re a great kisser.”

Then we’re at it again—so gentle it makes me shiver. Little kisses…deeper kisses… His hand’s wrapped around my nape. His other one is rubbing my cock. I’m rubbing him, too. I urge his pants down, giving me more access once he’s only covered by his boxers. Every time my fingers trace the rim of his cockhead through the cotton, his hips jerk a little and he moans into my mouth. We find a rhythm with our hands and mouths, going at it until I’m so close I can’t stop groaning. Both our bodies are strung lust-tight and shaking.

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