Page 49 of Saving Pookie

I massaged the crown with my palm, spreading the natural lube over the head.

He drew a hand over his chest, drawing circles over his pecs. Arched his head back further, offering an exposed view of the way his throat tensed with every motion of my hand, the way his Adam's apple bobbed with every nervous gulp.

I stroked with intention, taunting and teasing him. Reveled in every measured inhale and every stuttered exhale. He'd find his control, rope it in, and lose it again, and I was the lasso constantly undoing him. To maneuver into a better position, I had to release him from my grip.

He peeled upward, resting on his elbows as he watched me climb between his legs, and he widened his stance to accommodate my body. When I took his cock back in my hand, he flattened the back of his head on the pier again.

I'm not a control guy. Never have been. Have never been in control. Have never had someone let me be in control. Cameron⁠—

Fuck that piece of shit.

I couldn't think about him.

I wouldn't.

I stared down Braxton's cock like I was staring down the barrel of a gun. The bullet was cocked, the piston greased, and I was ready to blow my brains out—figuratively. I squeezed the middle of his shaft, wanting so desperately to taste him, to devour him. Something stopped me, though. That same nagging feeling in the back of my head that this changes everything or it changes nothing, and there was no way of knowing which until the deed was done.

Friendship wasn't something that came easily to me. Braxton was easy. As a friend, that is. This safe place in an unsafe world. Was the forbidden fruit worth losing that?

"Pookster," he begged, eyes welded shut. "Please..."

Yeah, I wasn't strong enough.

I took the head of his cock into my mouth, and the holy sounds that barreled from the back of his throat changed me. Hyperbolic? Probably. In the moment, though? Take me to the church of straight boy cock. He tasted of Old Spice, salt, and a sweet, delicious forbidden apple.

"Fuck," he moaned, his thighs widening further. "Oh my fucking... God."

I thought back to watching him get his cock sucked by that girl—whose name I've completely forgotten. I don't remember him losing control like this, but I was high so... Whatever. It didn't matter.

He shot upwards, cradling my head in his lap, his fingers dancing through my hair.

He erratically thrusted, fucking into my mouth and taking control. And I didn't mind at all. I was used to it, and there's something absolutely fucking euphoric about being used like that. This feral, animalistic nature unleashed. The crown of his cock tested the limits of my gag reflex, pounding against the back of my throat. Sometimes it'd hit it. Other times, it'd fall just shy of reaching the back.

I widened my mouth, accepting the face-fucking he was so eager to give—a birthday present like no other. His fingers wound tighter, gripping me by the back of my head and holding me still as he launched upward. Gasping and moaning into the night air as he barreled toward release.

He thrust again and a hot explosion landed against the back of my throat, coating the inside of my mouth with salty straight boy cum. When he was done, he pushed my head down on his cock until my mouth melted against his groin and my lower lip slurped up the cum that pooled at his hairless balls.

Slowly, as he came back down to earth, he loosened his grip on my head. I mouthed over his sensitive cock, feeling every shudder of his body as I cleaned him. I wanted—needed—to savor every drop of his release. And then finally, when he'd had enough, when another pass over his cock would've broken him completely, he pried my mouth from his dick. I inhaled sharply and caught my breath for the first time.

And in the breathless quiet between us, where neither of us could muster the energy to form words, I caught a look in his eyes that stunned me into a soft retreat. He was still hungry.

He pushed his hands against my chest, knocking me onto my back, and crawled between my legs. He pawed at my hip, pulling my leg around his side as his lips brushed over mine. Not quite kissing. Not quite yet. Hot breath landed like an earthquake on my lips.

And then, uncertainty in his eyes and a silent echo in my heart.

This was the part where everything changed.

I knew this was a bad idea.

He arched his ass backward, just enough to reach a hand between us. He slipped his hand beneath my slacks, palming my rock-hard erection held in place by my tight briefs.

"You..." I moaned, and why the fuck was I even about to say this? "You don't have to do that."

He swallowed a rough gulp and nodded. As he pulled his hand free from my pants, I tried to conceal my disappointment, but I'm sure he saw right through me. Still, it wasn't enough for the straight boy to cross that particular gay line. He hovered above me, a continued bout of silence that threatened to undo me.

He was really about to run.

And in the silence, he did the unexpected.