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He reaches over and grabs a pillow to tuck behind his shoulders, propping his head up. He beckons me toward him and heat flares in my stomach when I realize his intention. Swinging a leg back over his waist, I move up until I’m straddling his chest. I have to reach a hand out to steady myself on his shoulder; Nico’s own hands are flat on my thighs, spread wide in front of him.
“I like your legs,” he tells me, and runs his hands up and down. He looks like he wants to lean forward and take a bite. Cupping the backs of my thighs, he applies pressure to pull me in. “A little closer.”
I oblige. When I’m positioned where he wants me, he extends a hand and traces the tip of a finger over my abs. Closing my eyes, I keep a firm grip on his shoulder and focus on the touch. The click of the lube cap has me spreading my knees a little further apart. I’ve still got my eyes closed when I feel the first cool press of his finger. He doesn’t play around, like I did, but pushes inside me until his knuckles are resting against my cheeks. After a few languid strokes over my prostate, I open my eyes and look down at him just as he uses his free hand to direct my erection between his lips.
I’ve experienced both of these things separately, but the dual sensation nearly has me coming right then. He’s barely moving, finger and tongue timed perfectly as he tortures me. My hand is so tight on his shoulder I know it has to hurt. When he looks up at me, mouth wrapped around my dick and finger still working, I know what he wants me to do even without the hand he’s snaked around the back of my thigh to direct me.
I put a hand to the headboard, the other on his head, and give a few shallow thrusts. His grip tightens on my leg, and his finger presses hard on my prostate; snapping my hips forward harder, he groans and I say goodbye to any control I still had. Thrusting into his mouth, I feel his throat work around me, and on every push back, I fuck myself on his hand. My fingers are gripping the headboard tight enough to hurt my knuckles, and every nerve ending in my body feels aflame.
Biting hard on my bottom lip, I roll my hips and try for control. He’s making soft gasps of pleasure each time my dick hits the back of his throat, and my own groans echo in response. It feels so good, it borders on pain; leaning forward, pushing his head against the palm of my hand with every thrust, I try to give my prostate a break. Nico doesn’t allow it; adjusting his hand, he follows me andrubson the abused gland.
“Fuck,” I gasp, the word tearing from my throat painfully.
When I finally come, it’s almost a relief. Snapping my hips against his face, I shoot into his mouth; I can feel his throat tightening, as he swallows around the head of my dick. I stop moving almost immediately, chest heaving and legs shaking, but Nico’s finger continues to pump in and out of me. If he’s trying to kill me, he’s well on his way.
“Fuck,” I moan, trying not to collapse on top of him. “Stop—you’ve got to stop.”
He groans, whether because of the words, or the way I said them, or the way I taste, I don’t know. His finger does stop moving, eventually, but he’s not quick about it; when he leaves me entirely, I wish I hadn’t been so hasty—I already want him back inside. His hands are on my hips now, slowly directing me backward. As I slide out of his mouth, he runs the tip of his tongue along the bottom of my length.
I have to remind myself not to collapse and sit on top of him, cognizant of his narrower frame and my bulk. If I thoughthe’d looked depraved before, it’s nothing compared to how he looks now: lips swollen, eyes glassy, and hair damp with sweat. Sitting gingerly back on his thighs, I drop my head into the crook of his neck. I need a second to fucking breathe. He smells like sex and Dove soap, andme.
Nico’s hands, tentative and featherlight, coast up my back. The touch is so delicate, compared to what we just did, it feels almost loving.And so begins the wishful thinking portion of tonight’s events.I should move and give him space to breathe, but I’m terrified that the second I climb off him he will get dressed and ask me to take him home.Stay, stay, stay, loops around my brain like an unhelpful record. Nico won’t stay, tonight or any other night, and I won’t embarrass myself by asking for it.
“Anthony,” he says, and I grunt. Kissing his neck once, then twice, before raising my head. I run a hand through my sweaty hair and notice that I seem to have picked up a shake. He must realize I’m not fully conscious because he repeats himself. “Anthony.”
“Hey.” My voice is rough, like I just came home from a rock concert.
Nico looks at me, hands somehow back on my thighs. It makes me ridiculously pleased that he likes my legs, and that he told me. He pats the top of my hip, silently asking me to get off of him. Biting back a sigh, I swing my leg over and away; he sits up instantly, rubbing his palms over his face. My heart sinks as I realize the way I was lying there with him probably counts as snuggling.He’s going to ask to go home.
Turning, Nico adjusts the pillows before laying back down, hands folded on his stomach. Hardly daring to breathe, I relax on my side, head pillowed on my arm and gaze locked on his face. We’re not touching, but I don’t feel secure enough to do so. Not when it would probably scare him off.
“It’s been a long time,” he says, and holy shit, is that asmileI see?
“Since when?”
“Since I’ve been with anyone. Years, in fact.” He says this with not a trace of shame. “The last time I touched a dick that wasn’t my own was before the accident. Before the hospital.”
“Why?”
“I wasn’t in the right headspace afterward, I guess. Couldn’t find the right person.”
I want to ask if he’s found the right person now, but bite my tongue. I’ve already toed the line with the post-sex cuddling; saying shit like that would send me hurtling over the edge.
???
Later, after night has fallen and we’ve gone another round, we get dressed and I drive Nico home. The car is silent, like before, but this time it’s comfortable. Easy. Both of us are exhausted, sore and satisfied. The car smells like we had sex inhere, because of course Nico didn’t want to shower before he left. I inhale deep, refusing to crack the windows. I hope it permeates the damn leather, and I’m reminded of tonight every time I drive to work.
“Thank you for the ride,” Nico says, probably trying to say goodbye in the car and keep me from walking him to the door. I undo my seatbelt and am out of the vehicle before he can call me back. Meeting him on the passenger side, we walk side-by-side to his door. I don’t grab his hand, but I want to. Nobody has ever accused me of being smart.
“No problem. Thank you for the multiple, mind-blowing orgasms.”
Nico gives a startled laugh, which feels better than holding his hand probably ever could. I watch him walk inside, tryingnot to feel awkward about being left on the front stoop. I hadn’t been expecting him to invite me inside, but I can’t pretend that I didn’t want him to. I contemplate calling Troy or Sam, to pass the time on the drive home. Maybe Corwin, although he and Nigel had been planning on heading out of town today. It’s not until I’m merging onto the highway that I realize I don’t want to talk to just anyone; I want to talk to Nico.
The rest of the week passes by in a blur of hockey and sex. I leave my house in the morning, and don’t return until the other side of midnight. Nico and I don’t go back to my place, but fall into a routine of going to his after camp finishes for the day. One would think, based on the sheer volume of orgasms alone, that I’d be satisfied, but I’m not. In fact, my want is only getting worse; a craving I can’t fulfill, no matter how much I eat.
I’m sleeping like shit, despite being dead tired by the time I get home. The second my head hits the pillow in my empty bed, alone in my empty house, sleep is impossible. It’s not being alone that bothers me, per se, not when I’ve spent my entire adult life living alone. No, what’s bothering me is the fact that I really shouldn’thaveto be alone. My relationship with Nico, three weeks strong, is the longest running relationship I’ve ever had. And it’s not even fucking real.
Nico remains irritatingly steadfast, never giving me more than an inch. And even that, I have to work for. We go to practice, eat dinner, fuck a couple times, and I leave. Like goddamn clockwork. A tiny sliver of shame has lodged itself in my sternum, and every night of sleep I lose it grows a little bigger. This thing between Nico and I isn’t just a hookup, not to me.Sounds like you might be setting yourself up for heartbreak, Sam had told me. Looks like he’s going to owe me anI told you so, before this is through.
