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“I was thinking about sticks and…holding the stick and… Never mind. It probably won’t make sense outside my head.”
Cruz cocks his to the side and studies me a second before understanding dawns and he gives me a warm smile. “Average sex drive, my ass. I…” His mouth hangs open like there’s something else he wants to say, then he abruptly snaps it shut and glances at the bathroom door. “I guess you can hold your own stick again.”
Is it wishful thinking, or does he sound disappointed? I guess there’s only one way to find out.
“I could.” I let that linger for just a second. “Although, I sort of liked when you did it for me.”
Cruz’s eyes snap to mine, so blue, so intense, I can’t look away. It’s like an ocean with no shore. All I can do is tread water until he releases me.
“I think I liked that, too.” His voice is so faint I wonder if I heard him correctly, so to be sure, I shift my weight on his lap, pushing my pelvis closer to his.
I hear a sharp intake of breath. A shuddering exhale. Then Cruz’s eyes flutter, breaking our stare long enough that I catch his pink tongue wetting his lips. Mine does the same.
“Should I…?”
His eyes follow mine as I look to my lap, and he gives a firm nod.
Slowly, as if sudden movements might scare him, I pull my waistband away from my stomach and push it under my eager cock. Cruz stretches his finger out until it connects with my slit, and draws tiny circles around my tip, barely touching me, yet lighting me on fire all the same.
The groan that rumbles up my throat is flat out debauched, and I swear it makes his cock twitch behind his own waistband. But he makes no move to free himself, just adds another finger to his exploration, tracing the veins on my dick from root to tip, using such a delicate slowness that I’m damn near shaking with the urge to move.
But I don’t.
I hold still, letting him pet my cock the way I did his nearly a week ago, as if it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.
Whether he’s trying to mimic what I did to him, or he really is that intrigued, I have no idea. But if he wants to trace every inch, the least I can do is sit still and let him.
I become a moaning, whimpering statue, his slight touch so powerful it lulls me into a blissful trance.
Back and forth, up and down, Cruz’s fingertips skirt over my sensitive flesh like he’s mapping me. Cataloging every ridge, every contour. Leaving no part of me untouched. And my cock is practically vibrating with the pleasure it ignites.
“God, that feels so good.” My fingers clutch at his thighs, a silent plea to continue.
“I liked it. When you did it to me. It made me feel…appealing, I guess.”
“Did you think you weren’t appealing?”
He lifts a nonchalant shoulder without taking his eyes off what his fingers are doing, and I get the distinct impression that somehow his lack of attraction to others gave him the impression he wasn’t attractive himself. I suppose I can follow his thought process, but I can’t let it continue.
I put my hand over his, pausing his movements so he has to look up at me.
“It’s okay to question your sexuality, but never question your appeal. I’m pretty sure there’s not a person on this campus who wouldn’t take my place right now if they could.”
Cruz blinks at me, his mouth parted in an adorable little ‘o’ that seems to want to stretch into a shy grin. Before it can, his gaze drifts downward, and he starts stroking me again.
Base to crown, his fingers glide along my length, circling my tip once, twice, before the friction disappears, and he sucks in a startled breath.
“What?” I gasp.
He ghosts his finger against me and pulls it away with an amused little, “Huh.”
“What?” My chest rises and falls with a mixture of need and concern.
“It moves. Every time I stop touching it, it moves.” Cruz reaches for me again, and we both watch as my dick twitches as he takes his hand away.
“They do that.” I bite my lip to keep from laughing so he doesn’t interpret it the wrong way.
“Mine doesn’t.” He keeps his gaze focused on my cock as he toys with it.
