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I pull the phone away from my ear and check the time: not yet seven a.m. “Whenever. I’m just having coffee.”
“I’ll join you!” He says, and there are muffled noises in the background that suggest a closet being rifled through. “Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“Excellent. I’ll pick you up and we can go have breakfast, yeah?”
“Yeah.” I can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. Nor can I help being infected by it. Excitement zings through my extremities, making me feel a little nervous; like a teenager about to go on his first date. “See you soon.”
Anthony knocks softly on my door, a mere forty-five minutes later. I open it, letting him in and getting a nice whiff of sandalwood as he passes. He’s freshly shaved, with only a light dusting of facial hair covering his jaw. He’s wearing a green plaid shirt; when he sees me staring at it he grins, devilishly.
“Matches your eyes,” he says, plucking at the front of the shirt.
“And doesn’t match much else,” I respond, with a pointed look at the rest of his outfit. He laughs, black eyes lighting up.
“Hungry?” He asks, closing the distance between us and putting his hands on my waist.
“Mm.” He smells so good, and he looks like he put some effort into his appearance this morning. I want to ruffle his hair and undress him—muss him up a bit. He steps in closer,one of his hands leaving my waist and sliding downward. “Very hungry.”
We’re standing in the front room of my house, barely inside the door and in full view of the window. The parking lot is empty, except for Anthony’s SUV. It’s early on a Saturday morning, on a college campus: the likelihood of anyone else being awake or happening by is slim to none. But, there’s always a chance. I cup my hands around his elbows and pull him toward the hallway. His smile is positively wicked as he reaches for my belt.
“This isn’t what I invited you over for,” I tell him, as I push that god awful shirt off his shoulders and onto the floor.
He doesn’t answer, but drops to his knees and yanks my pants down. Before I can step out of them, he’s taken me into his mouth and jerked me forward by the backs of my thighs. Diving one hand into his hair, I grip him roughly and hold him in place while he sucks. The slurping and groaning sounds he’s making are so painfully erotic, I can feel them in my balls. Grasping his hair more firmly, I haul him off of me and to his feet.
“Do you have a condom?” I ask, voice shaky as I fumble with his pants. I have condoms and lube, of course, but they’re upstairs; so far away at this point, they may as well still be on the shelf at CVS.
“Yeah,” he says, reaching for his wallet just as I get his pants undone. Plucking a condom from inside, he tosses the wallet behind him, puts the condom between his teeth, and bends over to rid himself of his pants. He sounds as unsteady as I do, voice rough and unbearable sexy.
“Fuck me.” I’m already turning around, one forearm planted firmly on the wall and the other reaching behind me to find the side of his leg. He immediately crowds me, hands back on my hips and his erection pressed against my ass. I can’t hear the telltale crinkle of the condom wrapper over the sounds of ourbreathing, but he must have already slipped it on because his mouth is on my neck and traveling down my spine. Resting my forehead on my arm, I close my eyes and spread my legs a little farther apart.
“Lube,” Anthony rasps, lips against my shoulder blade.
“We don’t need it.” Too long; it would take too damn long to go upstairs and get it when I want him inside me now. I rock my hips backward, rubbing against his dick and he groans.
“Nico…” He warns, when I do it again. The hand on my hip is so tight, it hurts. “I’m not doing this without lube.”
He spins me around and shoves me back against the wall hard. My pants are still around ankles, and would have tripped me up had he not been holding me so tightly. Steering me away, he walks me backward up the stairs until I hit another wall. We take a short respite here, hands on cocks and lips on necks. If I wasn’t so eager to be fucked, this would do just fine.
Eventually, he pilots me up the next flight of steps and through the bedroom door. This time I’m ready for it when I’m shoved back against the wall next to my bedside table; turning, I plant my feet wide and brace both forearms in front of me. Behind me, Anthony preps me with a now-lubed finger; sighing, I rock back onto his hand, trying to get him to go faster.
Finally—fuckingfinally—I’m stretched enough for Anthony’s liking and I feel the brush of his cockhead against my hole as he lines himself up. The moment he breaches me I shove back from the wall, hard, practically impaling myself on him. He gasps, falling forward and catching himself with a palm flat on the wall near my shoulder. I’m practically crawling out of my skin, I want him to move so badly.
“Fuck me.” I’m essentially begging, at this point. “Please.”
He does. Restraint obliterated, he snaps his hips forward hard enough to strain my shoulders where I’m braced against the wall. He kicks my feet a little wider, moves his hand fromthe wall to plant it between my shoulder blades, and pounds into me. I can feel every inch of him inside me, shock waves of pleasure jolting my system every time he hits my prostate. It hurts, even with the lube; pushing myself away from the wall every time he thrusts into me, I’m able to pull him deeper inside.
Jesus Christ, yes.I’m sucking in harsh gulps of air, stomach clenching and arms straining. Behind me, Anthony’s own breathing is so labored I can barely hear the sound of our bodies coming together. Removing his hand from my upper back, he slaps a palm back on the wall and wraps his other arm around my chest, hauling me up and against him. I have just enough air in my system to groan as this change in angle has him drilling my prostate relentlessly.
I come first, without either of us putting a hand on my dick; release spatters down the wall in front of me and Anthony’s thrusts become frantic as I moan with gratification. The arm wrapped around my chest is so tight I can hardly breathe as he comes inside me, body collapsing against mine and pressing me into the wall. His mouth is next to my ear and the draw of breath sounds sharp enough to be painful. Legs and arms shaking, I sluggishly reach one hand back to Anthony’s flank for no other purpose than to touch him.
“Fuck,” he says, with feeling.
“Yeah.”
“That wasn’t how I meant… god, did I hurt you?”
“No.” Yes, really, but Iwantedhim to. I want to feel him for hours—days—after. I don’t want my body to ever forget how this felt. He loosens his hold on me and pulls out. A sharp pain echoes in his absence; slowly, I straighten and turn around. Anthony looks properly mussed now, and I can’t help but smile. Reaching out, I touch his hair.
