Keene’s mouth on mine is the equivalent of a taser to my balls. A straight up electrical jolt that sends my senses into overdrive. To the point where I’m so keyed up, the only thing I can think about is stripping out of our clothes and doing…fuck.
I don’t even know what I wanna do to him. Anything and everything. I wouldn’t know where to start.
The thought alone has me completely terrified.
He’s my best friend, the only person in this world I chose to be like family to me. It’s so much to risk, knowing if this goes too far, we might never come back from the lines we’ve crossed.
Then there’s the fact that this is also uncharted territory.
The only cock I’ve been acquainted with is my own in my twenty years on Earth, and for the life of me, I never imagined that changing. Almost all of me still doesn’t because…I’ve been straight my entire life. It’s what I am.
Right?
Then again, I’m definitely not in this current moment, with my tongue in Keene’s mouth and my cock hard and aching as our hips roll together in a desperate chase of release. Right now, the only thing I’m sure of is I don’t want this to end, no matter what it’s doing to my sanity.
Namely, making me lose it all together.
Nicotine might be my vice of choice, but that’s all changing with his lips on mine. Barely a goddamn taste of him has me reeling, ready to trade my soul for more.
I’m not sure which of us moves first to shed shirts, only they’re ripped from our bodies and soon tossed over the back of the couch. Maybe it was me, because my confidence is high and inhibitions low, thanks to the copious amount of alcohol I’ve ingested tonight.
Both my hands at his hips shift, slipping down to the outside of his ass. It’s firm in my palms, more than any woman’s, and I can’t help but give it a squeeze. The taut muscles work beneath my touch each time he rolls his hips against mine, and it’s got my cock weeping behind my zipper.
Or maybe that’s because we’re dry humping and making out like two sex-starved teenagers. It’s gotta be one of the best moments of my life. Go figure that one out.
“Goddamnit,” he whispers, when my fingers move to slip beneath the waistband of his sweats. The smooth skin of his ass glides against my palms, and it somehow feels right. As if touching him like this is how it’s supposed to be. And that’s enough to have me grabbing on to him to help pace each and every grind of his body.
“You feel…” I trail off, my brain short-circuiting when his teeth lightly sink into my jaw. He feels amazing. Hard body and strong muscles and smooth skin rocking against me. It feels perfect.
Like home.
He’s always felt like home to me, but not like this.
“You too,” he mumbles. Sharp teeth bite at my lips before he devours me some more. My hold on his ass becomes firmer, and I lock him tight against me. As close as humanly possible.
“Can you come like this?” I hear myself utter, and hold the phone—
Can you come like this?
Goddamn. When I go gay, I bat for the fucking fences. Normally, that’s Keene’s job. Both in reference to baseball, but also acting without thinking. Because I’m the rational one. The one who knows and understands that all actions have consequences, and these actions can have consequences of the life-altering variety.
Doesn’t seem to matter though, because all rational thought left the building the moment his lips met mine. All I can focus on is the way he feels against me and how much more I want than just this.
His forehead rolls against mine, signaling a nod of confirmation before his teeth grab my bottom lip and tug. My hips buck up into his in response.
Oh, shit. This is bad. Really, really fucking bad.
Yet, never in my life, has bad ever felt so good.
Good enough to where I have no qualms about what we’re doing. I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life.
“Why does this feel so good?” he murmurs against my mouth before trailing his lips over to my ear. “Why do I want more?”
Fucking hell. It’s like he’s crawled inside my mind and can read every thought and desire bouncing around in my brain. Then again, it’s always been that way with us.
Instead of answering—mostly because I sure don’t have answers for him right now—I let my hands slide further inside his shorts, my fingers teasing his crease as I give his ass another firm squeeze. This time, a moan rips from his throat that’s so erotic, it should be criminal.
His head falls into the crook of my neck and he rasps, “Fuck, Pen. Give me more.”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip and I try not to think about what more entails, or I’m bound to get carried away to places we aren’t ready for.
“You want my fingers sinking inside you? That it, Kee?” I pant as I thrust up again. He groans, and the sound does something to me, and I grind out, “God, you’re gonna kill me.”
The heat of his breathy laugh on my skin sends goosebumps breaking out over my skin, despite the fire burning through my veins. He nips at the skin of my throat, then sucks it into his mouth in a way that’s sure to leave a mark for all to see tomorrow. Claiming me as his.
Do I care? Maybe if I was stone-cold sober and in my right mind, sure.
Right now, it only makes me hotter for him. For the sinful and slightly forbidden way we’re going at each other like animals in heat.
“I want your fingers inside me. Your cock rubbing against mine until I come,” he murmurs against my throat before he takes my mouth again. His tongue slips between my lips to keep me from answering. Not that I’d want to when his tongue rolls against mine in time with his hips.
Oh, my fucking God.
My dick is aching behind my zipper, my balls throbbing with the need to release. I don’t think there’s ever been a time in my life where I’ve been as turned on as I am with him, here and now.
Jesus Christ, I need to get a grip on myself before I come in my pants like a goddamn preteen the first time his dick is touched. But from the way Keene keeps grinding against me, making no move to get the rest of our clothes out of the way, that’s exactly the point.
Wrenching my mouth from his, I gasp and pant for air while he dry fucks me into oblivion. I’m about to explode at any second.
“I’m right there, Pen.”
The rasp in his voice, rough like gravel, combined with the sheer need in the words is enough to have my balls seizing up. One, two, three more rolls of his hips over mine have my eyes slamming closed as I lose myself in pleasure.
Keene slips his hand into his sweats, pulling them down just enough to release his cock. He continues to rock into me, his balls rubbing against my sensitive dick as he strokes himself. All my senses are working overtime, every touch and sound more than enough to get me right where he wants me.
But it’s the sight of his hand wrapped around his cock that undoes me entirely.
Cum jets out of me, filling my underwear in a way that, if this wasn’t Keene, I’d be really embarrassed about. Part of me still is, but the filthy smirk that crosses his face when he must feel the warm liquid seeping through our clothes quickly turns embarrassment right back into lust.
“Goddamn,” he marvels, still smirking as he works himself over. “Wrecked is a good look on you. Wrecked just for me.”
He’s not wrong, though I doubt I looked nearly as wrecked as I feel inside.
It only takes him a couple more quick jacks of his cock while he stares down at me before his release shoots from him too, coating my stomach in thick ropes. This time, it’s my turn to smile at the sight of him losing control for me. He’s quick to kiss it right off my lips as he collapses against me when the last of his cum is milked from his body.
He rests both forearms on either side of my head, just above my shoulders. We’re chest to chest now, and both his hands move to wrap around the top of my head. Fingers snake into the longer strands of my hair, and his mouth continues to thoroughly ravish me.
I’m literally wrapped up in him. Cocooned by his body. And that feeling I had earlier of being at home? It’s all-consuming now.
And all of me knows just how dangerous it is, because it’s something that’d be all too easy to get used to.
We continue to kiss, every inch of our bodies pressing into each other. His cum has the firm ridges of his abs sliding against mine, and I can feel myself getting hard all over again.
How am I ready for a second round already?
We don’t make a move to take it further, though. In fact, all grinding and movement has stopped entirely, except the way our lips and tongues glide together. And soon, the sated feeling takes over both of us and that stops too, leaving us panting. Consuming each other’s air as we try to calm the rapid pace of our breathing.
“I might be fucking stupid for admitting this,” he mutters against my mouth, placing one last peck on my swollen lips. “But I really hope you’re sober enough to remember this tomorrow.”
My heart is still hammering in my chest at double time, and I manage to rasp out a soft, “Why?”
His lips and teeth leave a searing path on my skin as he kisses and nips his way to my ear. “Because we’ve barely stopped, and I already wanna do that all over again. And again. And again.”
God, if that wasn’t already completely obvious from the way he keeps on touching and licking and kissing me. Like he can’t stand the thought of stopping. Of breaking the spell.
I can’t either, though I know we have to eventually.
A groan slips from me before I’m turning my head to lick a path up his throat to his ear. Partly because I love the taste of the salt on his skin, but also to keep myself from saying those two words dying to slip from my mouth in response.
Me too.
Or worse, the words that sure as hell have no business coming out of my mouth until I’m comfortable…well, coming out. If not to the world, at least to myself.
I want you.
But he deserves more than just my lust. More than a heated kiss or a half-drunken dry-fuck fest. And there’s a massive piece of me that wants to give him everything he could ever want or ask for.
It’s like Bristol said, I’m not the type to date. Fuck buddies are the only thing I know, the only way sex doesn’t become a messy complication that impacts my life on a daily basis.
And Keene could never be that. A fuck buddy. A friend with benefits.
It would be the quickest way of screwing up the relationship we already have, and ruining us is the last thing in the world I’d ever want. So instead of responding, instead of saying anything that this situation would call for, I go the route I always do.
Deflection.
“You gotta get up.”
His body goes rigid over mine, and I immediately know it was the wrong thing to say. Too late to change it or take it back now though, so I double down by patting his ass as a signal to move.
“Right,” he whispers, lifting off me. Instantly, I miss the warmth of his bare skin on mine and the cocoon his body had mine in.
A tense cloud falls over us, thickening the air to uncomfortable levels as he looks down at me, looking as destroyed as I feel. He fixes himself up, tucking his half-hard dick back in his sweats, but I can still see the wet patch on the gray material from my cum seeping through my jeans.
I didn’t mean to make it a rejection of any kind by asking him to get off me. I just needed space. No contact of his body against me until I know what to do or say or think.
Keene chooses to clear his throat and speak instead, giving me an out I don’t deserve.
“I’m gonna clean up.” His tone is as detached as he can manage, but his eyes give away his hurt. Even in this dim lighting from the television.
Part of me wonders if that was an offer for me to join him, because I’m definitely the messier of the two of us right now. But fear and doubt have me rooted in place and my mouth zipped shut. In the end, I just clear my throat and nod in response, no longer trusting any part of myself to know the right way to handle this.
My eyes stay locked on the ceiling as I listen to him run the faucet and rummage around in the bathroom. Self-loathing and regret begin churning inside me, not for what happened, but for the way I just reacted to it being over. I push it down best I can, but it doesn’t do much good.
In fact, it only grows when, five minutes later, he exits our shared bathroom and slips into his own room without a word or a glance in my direction.
Shit.
Rising from the couch, I take my turn to get cleaned up in the bathroom. Since both of our cum is covering a good portion of my lower torso, a quick shower is the only sensible option for getting cleaned up.
My mind races as I rinse my body and then dry off. It doesn’t stop, even when I toss on a new pair of boxers and slide into my bed. Or when I lie there, staring at the ceiling once more, and begging for sleep to take me out of my own head, if only for a few hours.
But how can it?
His taste still lingers on my tongue. Branded there in a way I won’t soon forget.
And the kicker of it?
Everything inside me wishes this would’ve been our first kiss.
