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“Don’t,” I tell him when he moves to lie back down. “I want you to watch.”
He squirts way too much lube in my hand when I hold it out, but groans as I tilt my cupped hand, allowing the lube to dribble over his cock.
“That’s so fucking cold,” he says, but it doesn’t really sound like a true complaint.
“Want me to stop?”
I feel his eyes on the side of my head, and I grin as I keep my own gaze locked on his cock.
The guys in the locker room weren’t overexaggerating at the size of the thing, but lucky for him, I have big hands. He moans my name—Ricky, not Rick—when I curl my hand around him and stroke him down to the base.
“My bed is going to be puddled with lube,” he complains.
“And cum by the time we’re done,” I add. “Good thing we have another bed to sleep in.”
I don’t mean for it to be a test, but if things change from the way they have been the last couple of days—where we wake up sweaty yet smiling from being pressed to each other—I may actually lose my fucking mind.
It’s a huge gamble I’m taking tonight.
There will be a boundary with this man. We’re going to reach a point where he draws a line in this insane bid for experimentation, and when that happens, I have no doubt things will end.
This is possibly the dumbest thing I’ve agreed to do with him.
Yes, as kids and teens we did all sorts of things that we knew would end badly, but this isn’t jumping bikes on a homemade ramp or sneaking out of his house to try and get a peek through the window when the Cerberus guys were having one of their parties. This ends in heartbreak and a lifetime of regret, not a sprained wrist and extra chores for a month.
“Those sounds you make,” I whisper, my lips still against his shoulder.
He groans again, my cock reveling in the sound as I tease his head with my slippery fingers.
“You’re driving me insane.”
I grin against his skin.
“You’ve been making me crazy for years. Did you really think I’d just dive in and not take my time?”
“Sadist,” he hisses when I cup his balls rather than stroking the length of him.
“Lie back,” I urge, following him to the mattress once again. “Bend your knee.”
He complies so quickly, I laugh at his eagerness, teasing along his taint, and watching his face to gauge his reaction to what I’m doing.
“Fuck,” he mutters, dropping his bent leg wide, giving me more access.
“Ever had anything here?” I swirl the tip of one finger around his hole.
“No, fuck. Why is it so sensitive?”
“Tell me when you want me to stop.”
I dip the tip of one lube-slicked finger in him, pausing when he stiffens.
“Does it burn?”
“Just a little. Give me more.”
My cock is leaking, and I’d give just about anything to have access to his inner monologue right now.
I press further, hissing in pleasure at the way his body takes me in, imagining the way my cock would feel engulfed in his tight heated body.
“My dick,” he pleads. “Touch my fucking dick.”
I nip at his throat, rolling my own hips because I don’t possess the ability to stay still.
“Wait, I’m—”
“Fuck!” he snaps. “That’s… oh Jesus, do that again.”
I can’t help but chuckle, the worry I had about being able to please him this way fading away, morphing into wanting to tease him like this for hours, but I get the distinct feeling that he’d strangle me if I even tried.
“Keep your eyes on my hands,” I tell him as I sit up so I can use both of my hands.
Curling my finger inside of him, I stroke the length of his cock, watching his face as pure delight transforms his features.
Mouth hung open, chest heaving with rapid breaths, this man is lost in the moment as he sits up on his elbows so he can get a better view. Without having to request it, Landon pulls his other leg up, dropping it open just like the other. He’s completely open to me now, vulnerable in the most carnal sense.
His trust in me and what I’m doing to him makes my chest swell.
“Feel good?”
“Kiss me,” he commands. “Kiss me and make me come.”
Like he’s the only beacon of light in pitch black darkness, I lean forward, my eyes fluttering closed when I press my lips to his.
It’s less of a kiss and more just mouths touching because his brain isn’t capable of the cognitive function to move his lips and tongue while I’m touching him this way.
“Ricky,” he grunts, his hips moving a fraction. “Gonna nut.”
I brush his prostate with my finger once more, gripping his cock tighter, and I feel like a rock star the second his dick jerks in my hand.
