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“Jesus,” he gasps, watching me stroke my own cock. The wet sound of my hand around my shaft is filthy and sexy. He squeezes my hips, and his gaze doesn’t leave my stroking hands. “Fuck, you turn me on so much. I love watching you do that.” With his sexy, praising words, it doesn’t take long before I’m shooting my load all over him. I can just barely make out the lust in his eyes as he stares at the movement of my hand.
It’s dark enough that he can’t really see me—or at least I tell myself that. Thomas seems to be pretty accepting of the shit all over my face, but I can’t really hide it. I can hide my body, though, which I choose to do. I don’t know how he’d react to seeing the rest of it, so as long as we’re doing this, we’ll stay in the dark.
After my cock is spent and I’ve wrung myself dry, I rub my jizz-soaked hand over his pecs, mixing our cum together over his chest hair. I feel his heart pounding as he tries to catch his breath.
I’m in a post-orgasm daze myself, so I don’t even realize what he’s doing until it’s too late. He reaches over to the nightstand, and the lamp suddenly flicks on, bathing the room in soft, yellow light.
“Shit,” I curse as I slump forward, but it’s too late. He’s already staring wide-eyed at my body, hovering over his.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Are you okay?”
I refuse to run away or hide like a scared little kid, so instead, I lean back on my heels and let him see me. His chest is still covered in a sticky mess, but when his eyes cascade over my naked body, I don’t think he cares about the cum coating his skin anymore.
“Fuck, Pax,” he whispers. I can’t look him in the eye, so with my jaw clenched, I keep my gaze focused on the wall. Then I feel his fingers trace the shapes on my chest. They are wide, pink, puckered scars that stretch from my shoulders to my waist in various directions. The beauty of growing to my size is that the scars I got from when I was six have grown with me. And I know how gruesome they look, a constant reminder of the world I was born into.
When I don’t respond to his touch or look him in the eye, he seems to understand that I don’t want to talk about it. His fingers drop away from my chest and land on my hips.
“Come shower with me,” he says, slapping my ass playfully with one hand.
I’m about to say no and argue, but I don’t. I’m not sure why, but I actually follow him to his en-suite bathroom and peel off my boxers at the same time he does. It’s bright as fuck in here, but he doesn’t stare at my body anymore. He takes my hand and pulls me under the cascading stream, and together, we wash our bodies without talking.
After our shower, we each get dressed, and while he’s making his morning coffee, I slip out the front door. I don’t ask to stay again, and he doesn’t invite me, at least not yet. But I clearly need to make a plan that doesn’t involve me sleeping on the floor because I could get used to staying at Thomas’s house, and that would be a problem. A big fucking problem.
7
THOMAS
Idon’t have Pax’s phone number. This occurs to me on the drive to campus, about an hour after he disappeared this morning. He took everything with him, but I sort of expected him to stay over again. He can’t possibly plan on sleeping on the floor of the mechanic’s shop, not when he has a perfectly warm and comfortable place to stay at my house. Something I’m offering out of the goodness of my heart, and not just because waking up with my cock down the throat of a six-foot-four rugby player is a lovely way to start the day.
And the sight of him jacking off onto my chest will be etched into my mind forever, giving me little sparks of pleasure all day long. He didn’t seem to be a fan of the lights though, and I guess after seeing those scars, I can see why. I just wish I could have the Pax I get in the dark in the daylight too. Because when it’s just us, and he’s not worrying about what I see, it’s actually kind of nice. We seem well-matched, like the same fire burns in both of us.
When he walks into class, I don’t say anything to him. He ignores me and I ignore him. The class is a simple second-level English course, so there are a lot of students and not much time for class discussion. It makes the perfect environment for Pax to blend into the crowd and for me to pretend I don’t know him at all, especially not intimately.
And everything is fine when he takes a seat in the back of the room, until a busty brunette with shorts cut so high I can see the crease of her ass cheek plops down into the chair next to him. It’s not just that she sits next to him, it’s the way she smiles at him after she does. And the fact that he smiles back.
Now, I am too old to get caught up in jealousy, and I certainly do not get jealous of girls who flirt with the men I’m interested in, but this one, for some reason, has my attention.
One of Pax’s rowdy teammates comes in and drops into the seat on the other side of him. He’s loud, striking up a conversation with Pax about practice yesterday and plans for the weekend. Pretty soon, the girl has joined in and the three of them are talking loud enough for the whole room to hear over the general chatter.
Pax is looking at me. His expression is heavy, lips tight and jaw clenched.
And I hate this for him. I hate that he has to pretend he’s something he’s not. I hate that life has thrown him so much shit that he’s built armor around himself so he doesn’t have to feel anything anymore. I hate that I want to get inside that armor when I know he’ll never let me.
The girl touches his arm, and he sends her a tense smile. Not that I’ve seen a lot of Pax’s smiles or know what the different ones look like. The first day in the car, though, I feel like I got a glimpse of what he’s like with his guard down. As he talks to her, looking uncomfortable as he does, it makes me wonder how far he would go to prove his straightness.
When I glance down at my watch, I realize I’m five minutes late starting class, so I quickly get the students’ attention and get started with today’s lecture. Since this course is mostly geared toward writing, we get started with a short writing assignment students can complete in class. I give them fifteen minutes to answer the writing prompt on the board, which goes fine, except about two minutes into the exercise, the loudmouth next to Pax starts babbling on about some story from the weekend.
He’s not really talkingtoPax. It almost seems like he’s talking to the girl on the other side of Pax more, but either way, it’s disruptive and the fact that Pax is involved irritates me even more.
“Please keep quiet until the timer goes off,” I say, but the rugby player only glares at me and continues whispering, without even doing it quietly. Of course, I can’t remember his name—it being only my second day.
Pax is actually focusing on his writing, but after a few moments, he drops his pencil and I can tell he’s frustrated with the guy next to him. But instead of telling him to shut up, he starts whispering along with him, and now I’m really irritated, which is unfair, considering the morning I had. All things considered, I should be in a great fucking mood.
So before the time goes off, I snap.
“Mr. Smith,” I call. Everyone looks up, even Pax, who is staring at me with wide eyes. “I need you to keep it down or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
“Are you fucking serious?” he mutters, and the class collectively gasps.
