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Bodhi nodded frantically and shifted his hips back. Before Caleb could complain, Bodhi took him against his palm and squeezed tight—too tight, but it didn’t matter. Caleb was far too gone for it to stop his impending crash. He felt another groan pulsing in his lungs, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he tumbled and fell. He felt pleasure spark along his skin before it consumed his awareness, and he only vaguely registered spilling in hot pulses all over Bodhi’s stomach.
By the time he came to, Bodhi had removed his hand and he was petting gently along Caleb’s back with his clean one, the other held high above his head. Caleb looked up for any mess, but there were only streaks of lube decorating Bodhi’s fingers. All the same, Bodhi seemed both careful and distressed.
“Clean up?” Caleb asked. He had to repeat himself twice before Bodhi caught on.
Frantically nodding, Bodhi jumped off the bed, so Caleb unwound himself and flopped on his back, his hand flopping around for the box of wet wipes he kept in his bedside table. He’d managed to give himself a cursory wipe down before Bodhi reappeared looking hesitant and a little shy.
“Sorry.”
Caleb sat up and beckoned him closer, curling his hand around the back of Bodhi’s neck and kissing him until the tension drained from his body. He pulled back with a sigh and urged Bodhi to lay back down. “Why are you sorry?”
“I don’t like…” Bodhi’s hands hesitated in thought.
The feeling of mess on his hands, Caleb supplied to himself. It made total sense. Bodhi was rarely at work without gloves on unless he was stocking tea sachets or beans for the grinder. Caleb smiled and wiped any remaining moisture from his lips on his wrist before kissing Bodhi’s palm.
“I understand. I’ll keep more wet wipes in the drawer.”
“If we do this again?” Bodhi asked.
Caleb pushed up on his elbow, easing Bodhi onto his back, and he hovered over him. He traced a touch from Bodhi’s forehead, over his nose, down his chin, pausing to lay his palm over Bodhi’s throat. He could feel the beat of his pulse against his fingers.
“When,” Caleb corrected after pulling his hand back. He climbed to his knees and used one of them to nudge Bodhi’s legs into a wide V. He was still hard, nestled in his thick, coarse hair. “Whenwe do this again.”
Bodhi’s cheeks darkened ruddy, and Caleb leaned down to taste the heat before kissing down his chest. He remembered his promise, and Bodhi seemed to as well because one hand flew into Caleb’s hair as his chest spasmed with a sharp inhale.
Once again, Caleb became aware that learning Bodhi’s movements was like learning the nuances of a new culture. His signs were different because he was so much less expressive than anyone Caleb knew—even the hearing people in his life. But Bodhi’s subtleness allowed him to seem so much louder when Caleb was paying attention.
Each twitch, each gasp, each spasm was like a gong vibrating through his chest.
Caleb looked at the expanse of Bodhi’s naked skin—smooth in some places, covered in rich thick hair in others—and he wanted to become fluent in him. He kissed his nipples, then moved further down until he reached the place where Bodhi was leaking a small, steady stream. He lifted Bodhi’s cock and kissed the tip, feeling the tremor race through him.
Caleb grinned and gave him a few kitten licks, his gaze trained on Bodhi’s face, watching each subtle shift.
Bodhi’s eyes were closed like he couldn’t bear to look, and Caleb didn’t mind. It almost felt right to reduce this moment down to taste and touch. He let his own eyes close, consumed by darkness, comforted by silence, distracted by the feel of warmth beneath him.
Then he parted his lips.
The first real taste of Bodhi’s cock was salty and heady. He was thick and pulsed against Caleb’s tongue as he relaxed his jaw and let him slide all the way to the back of his throat. Caleb hadn’t done that in a while, but he remembered how to keep from gagging—how to take it all down in a single swallow.
He braced himself on either side of Bodhi’s thighs and sank until his nose buried in musky hair, and he breathed in the scent of this man he was falling for so hard, and so fast.
The hand in his hair tightened, so he pulled back, swirling his tongue at the tip before finally opening his eyes. Bodhi was watching him, looking shattered—ruined.
He licked his lips, then lifted shaking hands. “Close.”
Caleb smiled around the tip of Bodhi’s dick. “I know.”
“Close,” Bodhi repeated.
Caleb let him go, letting the cock leave his lips with a dull thud against Bodhi’s stomach. “Do you want to slow down, or do you want to come?”
“I don’t know. I’m embarrassed,” Bodhi signed, then shook his hands out several times.
“No,” Caleb whispered aloud, surging up to kiss him. “No, no, no.” Plush lips danced against his own, and Bodhi’s tongue was tentative as it tasted Caleb’s before plunging in deeper, more persistent. Caleb let it go on for a while, but eventually he broke away with several small pecks and rocked back to kneel. “I love everything about your body, and how close you are. I want you to come,” he signed slowly, making sure Bodhi understood every word. “I want to swallow your come.”
Bodhi sucked in another sharp breath and reached up, touching Caleb’s lips in wonder. “Yes.” He said the word aloud. Caleb felt the rumble of it under his fingers that had splayed against Bodhi’s sternum. “Yes,” he repeated in sign.
Caleb kissed the curled knuckles of Bodhi’s fist before pressing his hand back against the pillow beside his head. “Let me suck you. Let yourself go when you’re ready. Fast or slow, it doesn’t matter.”
