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The muscles there bunch and quiver.
“Maybe it’s the darkness,” I whisper, wanting to be even closer to him than I already am.
“Or the alcohol,” he mutters.
“The darkness,” I repeat. “This feels right.”
“Should feel like abs,” he says, his tone snarky. “Funny thing is, yours are better… touch them instead.”
When he grabs my hand, I expect him to throw it off him, but instead he shoves it lower, my fingers scraping over the soft hair below his navel. I know he’s trying to scare me off or piss me off, but it does neither.
Despite my confusion, I’ve had a lot of time to think since that kiss at the clubhouse, and I’d be a liar if I said my mind hadn’t wandered to places like the situation we’re in right now.
I told him that night that I kissed him because I thought it was what he wanted, and maybe part of me really thought that at the time, but when I went home that night, I was devastated when I licked away the taste of him on my lips. I wanted more. I wanted them to tingle again from his touch.
It had the power to make me think I was going insane, the wanting and the regret.
I didn’t call him the next day or show up on his doorstep and make my confessions because all of this is more complicated than testing the waters to see if there’s real attraction to him on my part or if I’m just missing the loss of my closest friend.
Our lives are tangled together. We’ll spend the rest of them seeing each other, being a part of the same events and gatherings. I could resist him or try to build something with him.
As my fingers trace that fine line of soft hair on his lower belly, I realize that if I do test the waters, and it only causes more distance in the end, then it honestly can’t make things any worse than they already are.
“Mmm,” I moan against his neck as my fingers brush his erection. “Is this what you want?”
Every part of him is stiff as my hand dry strokes down the length of him.
Instead of losing his shit and punching me in the face, he whimpers, and it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever fucking heard.
“Shh. We’re not alone, remember?”
I can picture him rolling his lips between his teeth as his hips circle, his ass stimulating my own erection.
His breathing is as ragged as mine is when I fist upward, rewarded with the feel of his leaking cockhead against my palm.
“Goddamn, Ricky. Is all of that because of me? So fucking hard.”
He groans his displeasure when I release his cock, but quickly gets with the program when I shove down his shorts and boxers in one go.
He kicks them the rest of the way off, slinging them to the floor, but he doesn’t turn to face me like I’d hoped he would. Instead, he kicks his leg back over mine, opening up to offer every inch of himself to me as he reaches for my hand, placing it back on his dick.
I give him two more strokes, reading his urgency to come in the swivel of his hips, before cupping his balls.
He draws in a rough, shaky breath as I tease them.
“Need to come?” I taunt, my lips right next to his ear.
He doesn’t respond with words, and I know it’s because he’s being his normal stubborn self.
“Want to shoot all over my sheets?” This gains a whimper, making my own cock jolt against his thigh. “How many times have you thought about jacking off in my bed? Ten times? Ten thousand times?”
“Landon,” he pants, speaking for the first time since I touched him. “Please.”
It’s too soon. I don’t want it to be over so quickly, but I’m also desperate to give him what he needs.
I grip him again, using his leaking desire to stroke him. I do what feels good when I jack myself off, and he seems to love it. It feels completely natural to have a dick in my hand, and maybe that’s because I’ve experienced it so many times in my life due to touching myself.
“I feel you tensing up. You going to give it all for me?” Another whimper makes my balls tighten. “Every drop for me, Ricky.”
His cock pulses in my hand, cum shooting out and landing on my sheets just like I predicted.
What I couldn’t have predicted, however, is the swarm of butterflies that take flight in my stomach.
I’ve made girls come before, but it never made me feel like this. Yeah, I’ve always taken pride in having the ability to make that happen nearly every time, but this just feels like more, an indescribable feeling of accomplishment mixed with burning arousal.
I thought I was completely fucked after that second kiss.
