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They look my way.
How I haven’t come yet just from watching this…my cock aches. My balls are already high and tight. It will take about two seconds…. one stroke…but I’m frozen. The pair of eyes on me…well that might be enough.
Chapter twenty-two
“How close are you?” Nandy asks, his voice raspy and deep.
I swallow and exhale. “Very,” is the only word I can muster.
Nandy nudges Fynn with his foot. Fynn stands and comes toward me.
“Hands only,” Nandy instructs. I see Fynn’s face fall slightly, and he gives me a small eye roll and then a wink. He positions himself between my legs on his knees and gently takes my hands away from my cock and places them on the arms of the chair. He strokes my thighs and fuck…every touch at this point. My cock jerks and he grins and licks his lips and damn if I don’t want him to disobey his orders. I want that mouth, that pillowy, pouty lower lip…fuck I want to feel that lip on me. I reach for it and stroke my thumb across it when I hear Nandy clear his throat from across the room.
“Next time,” Fynn whispers. A promise of more. Yes, please. So much more of this. More of them. I place my hand back on the arm of the chair and lift my eyes to Nandy until I lose all ability to see or process anything other than Fynn’s hands wrapped around my cock. I groan. This is going to happen embarrassingly fast, and I don’t care. I only care that it happens.
My hips buck and I’ve lost all control.
I don’t care, just keep going. More. More. More of this. Fynn strokes hand over hand, my precum keeping his hands slick. There is no break. No pause. No chance to breathe with the swift, sure motions of his hands. I want it to last forever. But when he pauses one hand long enough to cup and stroke my balls…they tighten under his touch, and I’m gone. Gone barely before I can even register what is happening. And it’s amazing. I shout and my hips fly off the chair again and I let go, unlike I ever have in my life. Completely let go. The jets of come are so hot I can feel the heat through my shirt and my lower abs. Fynn’s hand is already covered, and I haven’t even finished yet. I feel another surge coming even though he’s stopped, and I let it go. Let it cover my stomach and soak my shirt and pool into my navel. I groan again.
Fuuuuuuck!
Fynn’s eyes sparkle at me, and his lips are so close…I reach, and he shakes his head again. A tiny no. I toss my head back and melt into a puddle of sated bliss in the velvet cushion of the chair. Fynn’s hands stroke my thighs again and he retreats. I can’t move. I can’t thank him. I can’t do anything. I can barely breathe.
And that was just his hands. Just from watching…imagining feeling his mouth…Nandy eyes me still across the room.
Fynn moves away, and I hear the click of the door. He has been dismissed.
“Did you like that?” Nandy asks as he moves toward me.
I nod. Words are still too far of a reach. Plus, there are no words for this feeling. For what I watched. For what it did to me. For Fynn’s hands on me. Nandy tosses a small towel into my lap. I wipe my cock and the area of my stomach coated in my come. Swiping the towel across my come-soaked shirt only makes it stick to me more and proves that the move is useless. I grin a bit. It’s been a while. I’ve jerked off, sure. But I haven’t been with anyone in months. Guess there is a whole other level of semen stored up for when it’s really worth it.
I exhale again and sigh. My entire body relaxes into the embrace of the chair. Damn, that felt so amazing. I grin and look Nandy’s way…but there is no smile in his eyes and his tone is about to put a damper on the moment.
“Is that what you wanted? To know what it feels like to be with a man.”
Fuck him! Fury races into my veins and I sit up and shove him away to escape from the chair and his towering presence. I shove my cock into my pants and zip them up. I have had enough of this shit from him. Enough of being accused that I don’t know my own feelings and desires.
“No,” I say, still fumbling with my pants.
“What then?” That fury I still don’t understand has returned. Why does this piss him off so badly?
“You,” I spit and rake my hands through my hair, damp with sweat. “I want to know what it feels like to be with you.”
The room stills. All the anger, the fury, the whatever the fuck it was oozing out of him just moments ago melts away. He gawks at me. I gawk back.
He sweeps his hand through his dreads, across his face, and groans in agony.
“Damn you TJ.”
I’m still clueless and feeling like I have missed something major along the way and I swear to God I don’t know what happened between the concert and here. The joyous man holding my hand and smiling and happy with life, happy with me. The man wearing my suit…he hadn’t liked Fynn’s idea of coming here, though. Why?
“I don’t understand,” I say. “What is with you tonight? What is this hot and cold shit?”
He shakes his head in defeat. “You, you…I don’t want to feel things. I haven’t felt anything in years. I thought I had that all under control and then you…. You!
“I don’t want to feel anything TJ, and with you…I can’t help it.”
I stare at him. A man so passionate on stage. But he pours that passion right into that violin. Fynn said that is Nandy’s only love now. The only love he intends to have ever again.
