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“Hello, Coach Mackenzie,” he says, mouth tilted into a smile as he steps into the room toward me. His hair as gotten longer again, curled into loose brown ringlets that I long to dig my hands into. “How are you feeling?”
Abandoning my half-packed bag, I crowd into his personal space and place my hands on either side of his face. Pausing, I brush my thumbs over his jaw and lips, letting him know my intention. We move at the same time, mouths coming together gently at first before becoming surer. Anthony moans like I’ve got my mouth on his dick, not his face, and angles his head. Fire pools in my belly as I part his lips with mine and chase his tongue down with my own. His hands are gripping my hips, hard, and I rock my pelvis against his as our kisses become more feverish. He catches my bottom lip between his teeth and pulls away.
“Nico,” he says, applying pressure to my hips until I step backward. He walks us toward my bed where my bag is unceremoniously dumped onto the floor. “My Nico.”
I lay back on the bed, scooting up toward the headboard as he kneels above me. He kisses his way down each inch of bared skin as I lift my hips so he can pull my pants off. My shirt follows, leaving me naked and him fully clothed. I reach for his pants as he tugs his own shirt over his head. Stretching out above me, he cups a hand over the top of my head and leans down to kiss me.
When I try to bring back the heat from earlier, he keeps things sedate; lips sliding together in a gentle glide and tongues tangling lightly. I slide my hands into that lovely hair and use them to keep his mouth pressed to mine. He tastes of peppermint gum, something spicy, and longing. Every small breath he takes comes directly from my lungs, and mine from his. I could live on a lifetime of kisses like this.
Carefully, without breaking our mouths apart, he lowers his hips down to mine. In answer, I roll mine upward andour hard lengths rub together in unhurried, blissful friction. He moans, sweeping his tongue across the roof of my mouth and pressing his lips more firmly against mine. Steeped in sensation, I continue rocking my hips and groan when he begins to do the same. For a long time—and not nearly long enough—we move together, never moving farther apart than is necessary to breathe.
“Anthony,” I say, on a gasp.
“Is this okay?” He asks, and punctuates each word with a kiss and a roll of his hips.
“Yes. Yes.”
I still haven’t let go of his hair, and I don’t mean to do so now. Pulling his mouth back to mine, I kiss him with all the passion of someone who’s abstained for far too long. The pressure building in my chest has little to do with sexual release, and everything to do with the man above me.My Nico, he’d said, and it’s this that carries me over the edge. I come, painting both our abdomens with warmth. Anthony moans, deep and throaty, and presses his body hard against mine as he adds his own cum to the mix.
Neither of us stop moving right away, nor do we stop kissing. My lips feel swollen and bruised, scratched against his stubble. It’s perfect; I can’t imagine how I’ve managed to live without the sensation for so long. When he stops moving, resting his hips flush against mine, he kisses a reverential line from my mouth, across my jaw, and down my neck. Each kiss more careful and tender than the last. I loosen my grip on his hair, but continue running my fingers through it, enjoying the way the curls bounce back into shape after each pass.
“Anthony.” I exhale on his name, which comes out sounding like a prayer. He lifts his face, eyes nearly black and filled with affection.
“Definitely feeling better,” he concludes, leaning forward and pressing another kiss to my mouth.
Chuckling, I kiss him back, chasing his mouth when he goes to pull away. We lay like that for some time, cum drying between our bodies and mouths lazily exploring one another. The outside world feels very distant and very unimportant.
“Anthony,” I say again, between kisses.
“Mm?” His stubble scratches at my cheek as his lips graze a sedate path over mine before coasting over my jaw.
“Do you think you might like to live here?”
He pulls back at that, eyes locking with mine. One of his thumbs takes the place of where his mouth was, brushing gentle strokes along the line of my jaw. His eyes are hazy with lust and filled with something I can’t quite put a finger on. I wonder what he sees in my own.
“Live here,” he repeats, and now there is a tone I can’t identify as well. I try not to squirm underneath him, discomfited.
“If you’d like. I know we haven’t exactly beentogetherthis entire time, and I’m not just saying this because of post-coital bliss,” Anthony’s eyebrows wing upward, and his mouth curls into an amused smile, “but I’ve liked having you here and…well you know I can’t drive, so it would be difficult for me to come to you—.”
“You don’t have to convince me.”
“Don’t I?”
Another brush of his thumb, this time across my bottom lip. “No. I mean, I’ve pretty much already started moving in. My hoodie is in the closet, and my toothbrush is in the bathroom.”
I scowl at him, fighting back an answering smile to his own. “That’s my hoodie that I appropriated from you. It doesn’t count.”
“Alright, thief, how about this? I move in here—for real—and you don’t have toappropriateanything, you can just wear whatever you want of mine.”
“I might be reconsidering my offer.”
Snorting a laugh, he ducks his head to kiss me. It’s a deep kiss, one that presses my head back into the mattress and has my body arching toward his, hungrily.
“I had another thought,” I say, breathlessly, when we come back up for air. “You said you have a big house because your family comes to visit? Well, you could live here as a dry run and if it works out we could start looking for a place together.”
“A dry run,” he says, mouth quirked into a half smile.
“See if we make it through alive.”
“And if we do, we start trying to find a house together? Mm.” The look in his eyes is easily identifiable now: affection and joy. He leans down, speaking words against my throat in between soft kisses. “Somewhere close to campus. Big backyard.”
He keeps this up—murmuring suggestions against my skin until I become tired of my neck getting all of the attention. I pull his face upward, tipping my mouth to meet his. It’s sloppy, both of us smiling, and our teeth bumping together. I tighten my grip on his hair and close my eyes, holding tight to my happiness.
