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I open my mouth to tell him no, I don’t want his touch, but for some reason can’t bring myself to lie. It feels good. And I’m super fucking aware of him. Too aware. He’s handsome, strong. Hot.
Fuck.
His hand trails over my stomach and my cock strains inside my briefs, rock-hard. “Ash,” I grit out.
“It’s okay. It’s okay to want me.”
“Guys can’t want other guys… like that.” I swallow hard. “It’s unnatural.”
“I see. That what they taught you in wolf club? Well, I was raised to appreciate beauty in any gender, and I appreciate yours.”
“You… do?” I gape at him, at the grin curling his full lips. “You…”
“Yeah, I want you, too. Didn’t think it was a secret.”
“But—”
“Ophelia wouldn’t mind,” he says. “It’s a physical thing. A physical relief. Doesn’t change your loyalties. You’ll be okay.”
“I… don’t…Oh.” His hand trails lower, under my briefs, andoh fuck…
I’m no fucking virgin, but I’ve never had a guy do this to me before, a hand big like mine wrapping around my hard-on. It’s strangely familiar—hello, right hand—and also unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.
So damn hot.
“So hot,” he says and I blink at him because I’m not sure it isn’t an echo of my own thoughts. “Damn hot.”
Suddenly I can’t wait any longer. Reaching up, I grab the front of his T-shirt—wet and smeared with what looks and smells like blood, but who the hell cares at this point—and pull him down to kiss him.
He makes a startled noise, wrenching his hand away from my dick, which is frustrating, but one can’t have everything—and smacks his hands on either side of my head as he falls on top of me.
Kissing me back.
I groan, heat shooting down my spine, getting my dick harder. This… This is new. Firm lips, aggressive kissing, teeth and tongue battling with mine, his body settling over mine more heavily, his hard cock pressing against mine through the layers of fabric.
God… damn. He’s overdressed. Want him. Now.
“Clothes,” I manage against his lips. “Off.Fuck.”
He chuckles, the sound deep and delicious. His gray eyes shine and the joy in them transfixes me.
Reaching behind his head, he pulls his T-shirt over his head, and for the first time ever I allow myself to look, taking in the perfection of his strong chest, the width of his shoulders, the muscles flexing in his arms.
Then he reaches down, unbuckling his belt, the sound making me shiver for all the wrong reasons—but then he starts unbuttoning his jeans and my brain falls down the gutter once more, my dick jumping, trying to escape the confines of my white briefs.
How can a boy be so damn sexy?
When he pushes down jeans and boxer briefs and his hard-on swings out, long and thick and so hard it rises against his ripped stomach, I start to think I’ll come just from the sight, like a horny thirteen-year-old.
“Ash,” I groan.
“I’m here.” He takes his time, stroking himself, long fingers wrapped around that large cock, tugging and coaxing clear drops of liquid from the small slit on the flushed head, and my heart races. Just when I think I can’t take any more of this teasing, that I’ll throw him down on my bed and do something about it, he scoots further back and yanks my briefs down my legs.
I hiss when my too-hard cock swings up to slap my stomach, leaving a smear of precum. I’m panting, watching him, waiting to see what he’ll do, the urge to grab my dick and jack off frying my synapses.
What do guys do with each other? I mean, I know they can have sex, duh, I haven’t been living under a rock, not anymore—but is it, like, acceptable to suck each other off or do we just give hand jobs or—
“Damn, the way you look…” He grins at me, gaze hot under his lashes, his mouth so close to my dick I can’t think. “Fuck…”
