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“We’re goingup,” I told him.
There were a pair of glass double doors at the end of the hall that led outside into the night air. It was still warm enough outside to be my favorite kind of nighttime weather: perfect naked weather.
I punched in the code on the little gate that opened up to the outdoor stairwell, and I led Nathan up the narrow set of stairs. It ran along the side of the house, going up to the second floor balcony and turning to lead to a second set of stairs, tucked behind the house.
“I didn’t even know this was here,” Nathan mused as I led him up the back set of stairs that led to the rooftop.
“My house is full of cool things like that,” I said. “Was half of the reason I loved it so much. I got to discover so many cool things about this place.”
“This,” Nathan said as we walked onto the rooftop, “is the best part of modern homes. Flat rooftops.”
He walked up and looked out onto the sweeping views of the forest and city lights far below.
“I don’t have much up here, because I never have other people up here. This deck is just for me. Nobody’s up here during parties. Nothing fancy. Just a place to sit, to chill, to fuckingthink.”
“Well, you have that,” he said, pointing toward the corner where I’d put my chair.
“That’s my king’s throne,” I told him. “Got that from an antique shop. Uncomfortable as hell, but I stuck a pillow on the back and on the butt of the seat, and now it’s fucking incredible. Go sit on it.”
The chair was big, tall-backed, and made out of some exquisite type of carved wood. It was one of my more ridiculous, new-money purchases, but I loved the fucking thing, and I wasn’t about to apologize for it.
Nathan went and sat down.
“It does make me feel like a king,” he said.
“Right?”
I went over and reached down for his hands again. I squeezed them, cocking my head to one side.
“So is this how it goes?” Nathan asked. I was standing in front of him, and he looked up into my eyes, more relaxed under the moonlight. “You take your hookups up here to make them feel like kings?”
“You,” I said, sitting down in front of him on one knee, and then the other, “have got to stop fucking asking what I do withotherguys. I do this with you, Nathan. You’re not like the others, if that makes you feel special.”
He puffed out a laugh. “I don’t need to feel special,” he said casually.
“Quit lying,” I said, dropping my voice to a lower tone.
I let go of one of his hands, slowly running my palm along the inside of his thigh, starting at his knee and inching up higher.
We’d been naked the whole time, and somewhere along his journey up all of the stairs and onto the roof, his cock had gone down a little, distracted by the new sights and places.
But the moment my hand touched his thigh, he was hard as a fucking rock again.
“Fine,” he said softly. “I like thinking I’m alittlespecial to you.”
“Right,” I said. “And I like knowing that one touch from me—just like this—is enough to get your cock so fucking ready for me, all over again. Tell me what you want.”
He gave me a brief confused look. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Liar,” I said, my voice a singsong melody as I teased him. I repeated, “Tell me what you want.”
His neck bobbed as he swallowed. “I want you.”
“I know you do,” I murmured. The gentle sound of crickets filled the air around us, and as Nathan shifted on my king’s throne chair, the wood made a slight creaking sound.
I let my palm go further up, almost to his groin. His cock bobbed as I got closer, but I wasn’t giving him anything yet.
“I want to come,” he finally said, his eyes glued on me. I was positioned between his opened legs, and I nodded at him once.
