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I knew that his position tired him. I knew his muscles would burn from exertion as he leaned down, his knees bent and his torso supported by his muscled arms. Even so, he swung his hips and dipped in and out of my throat. I felt his thickness deep inside me and almost had a reflex to swallow, but whenever my throat closed a little, he pulled his dick back. It was wet with my saliva, and I couldn’t control its trickling from the corners of my mouth, making a mess over my face.
I managed to breathe in quick, shallow bursts, but I no longer cared for oxygen.
Jordan’s hands moved to feel my torso. He caressed me gently, in stark contrast with the deviance and harshness he exercised on my mouth. He touched me everywhere and felt everything. And when I thankfully thought that he would stroke me to my orgasm, he didn’t. He cupped my balls instead and pressed two fingers against my hard taint. Every little move he made with his hand caused my dick to pulse longingly. And I tightened my hold on his waist, pulling him in to stuff me as deep as he could. I wanted all of him. I wanted to outshine every other person who’d ever crossed his path. I wanted to make them all jealous of my skill. I wanted him to kneel in awe before me, to love my sexy mouth, and to worship the things I could do for him.
I wanted him to come. And I wanted him to feed me. And then, when all was said and done, I wanted him to kiss my dirty lips.
Jordan rubbed my taint, his fingers reaching lower and massaging my hole over the soft fabric of my boxer briefs. I hated that I hadn’t taken them off. I hated that he kept my dick packed so tightly and left it to be tortured and teased. The frustration burned in me and spread to every cell in my body.
But I couldn’t deny how good it felt to throb against the tightness of my underwear.
“Just like that,” he grunted. “Take my dick, baby boy. Fuck. Take it all the way. Yes.”
I mastered the art of keeping my muscles loose and letting him slide in and out without obstacles. It was painless and exhilarating, even if it took me a long time to inhale a lungful of air. But as he sweated and rammed into me, speeding up and shoving himself in and out, I knew neither of us would last much longer. The very sound he was trying to keep down — as well as the reason we needed to keep it quiet — pushed me to the edge. The wet slapping and sloshing, the embarrassing little gags that tore free from me, and the whistling air between his clenched jaws were enough to get me there. But it was his hot cum that tipped me over at last. The clear, unmistakable throbbing of his dick so deep in my throat and the squirts of heat that trickled over my mouth and down my throat in equal parts made me shudder so hard.
My toes curled instantly and everything in me stopped. I remained open for Jordan, who shook and shuddered and emptied himself down my throat. His fingers rubbed my hole harder, pressing against my taint and nudging me infuriatingly close to my climax.
And finally, when I could no longer take it, I thrust my hands down and released my dick from the confines of my underwear. But Jordan was faster. He grunted once, “Mine,” and wrapped his hand around it. He was three strokes in; his dick pulled halfway out of my mouth, the tip still inside and with my lips sealed around it as if I wanted to suck the last drop of him for myself, and my body thrashed, and my hips thrust up.
Hot splashes of cum landed over my torso and Jordan jerked his hand gently up and down my length. “That’s it,” he urged me. “Give me everything.” And I did. I sprayed myself and the bedsheets and Jordan’s hand that still gripped me. And finally, I opened my mouth and sucked air into my lungs.
He was growing softer slowly, and I was pulsing madly even after I had spent the last drop I had in me. And just like I had hoped, Jordan dropped to his knees, lifted my head from where it was hanging, and pressed his lips against mine, licking our sins away.
That night, I had watched the tired summer dusk bring death to a horrible day, and I watched the bright, golden dawn hours later when I slipped from Jordan’s room back into mine. He followed me. I paused to look at the small, growing light against the deep, dark sky, and I knew we had discovered something beautiful. His arms were around me, holding me from behind, and his breath was hot when he whispered, “Don’t forget that you are mine. And I am yours.” He paused for a time, breathing against my neck, then said, “We owe nothing to anyone. Only to each other.”
I repressed the thoughts of debts deep into the back of my mind. I didn’t care. Not now. Not when he held me so firmly and kissed me so sweetly.
Only us. No matter the cost.
TWELVE
Jordan
I didn’t expect to sleep at all. When I returned to my room and laid down on my bed, I couldn’t slow down my speeding mind. I couldn’t keep still. The immensity of what we had done and the pleasure of finally — finally! — getting this chance was enough to make my heart race. Yet the sweet innocence in his eyes when he did the filthiest things with his mouth was more comforting than I could have imagined. Something about that duality made me feel safe after making a decision without considering the consequences.
In one night, our worlds had changed so monumentally that it felt like we swapped our personas. He was the careful one and I was the one who acted without thinking. It was the complete opposite of what we were like on the ice or in the team house.
As the initial excitement drained away, tiredness set in. I slept until the sounds of the waking house stirred me. When I got up, I could swear I had been dreaming. I could swear it had involved Asher. But the dream faded before I could catch it and call it back.
Downstairs, I appeared before Asher. Dad was serving breakfast and Eileen was on the back porch with a book in her hands. “Morning,” she greeted me. “You boys are having a late start.”
Long night, I thought. It was a good bargain. It was worth all the sandiness in my eyes and more. It was worth the cost to our souls, too, if you asked me. I was done being the timid, careful creature who refused to live altogether because others might disagree.
“Summer break,” I murmured, my voice groggy.
Dad brought out plates filled with scrambled eggs. “Is Asher coming?”
I shrugged. “Didn’t see him.” I couldn’t think of a reply that matched my normal replies better. Besides, it was almost true.
But Asher showed up in the next heartbeat. His locks were tousled from sleep and the many incredible things we had done in the night. His lips were full and beautiful, drawing my attention almost like nothing else existed around us. And his eyes were tired, but they twinkled nevertheless. “Morning,” he said in a sleepy voice. He dropped into his chair without looking at me. In that deliberate avoidance, I felt a connection stronger than anything he could have conveyed by meeting my gaze. My stepbrother, my accomplice, my lover.
An awkward breakfast was nothing unusual. Looking around the table at the silence that felt thicker than the butter I was spreading over my toast, I decided we were not too unlike instant mashed potatoes. We’d been mixed together quickly, and the ingredients were all there, but the results were less than worthy of a finger lick.
I excused myself while Eileen pushed her scrambled eggs around the plate with a fork and Dad drank orange juice from a big glass that hid half of his face. As I walked away, Asher perked up and lifted his gaze to follow me. I watched his mind work and questions pop into his eyes. I was barely at the foot of the stairs before I heard him leave the table.
Back in my room, I held my breath and tried to shake off the awkwardness at breakfast. It’s all the same, I told myself, but I was perpetually aware of the new big thing at the breakfast table.
There was the quietest knock on my door and the knob turned as I looked over my shoulder. Asher slipped inside and shut the door, then leaned back against it. He scanned me shamelessly with his eyes, his lower lip clamped between his teeth. Then, lifting his chin, he said, “Thanks for wearing a T-shirt down there.”
