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He groans. “Stop. Even thinking about getting hard hurts my dick.” His eyes trail down my body, and he actually whimpers before his chin meets his chest in defeat. “I think I might cry. I’ve been imagining unwrapping that shirt off you all day.”
“Maybe you can unwrap me later?”
Mike leaps up on the top of the couch and curls himself around my shoulders like a shawl, ass to Chase’s face.
Chase eyes Mike’s puckered asshole, aimed in his direction. “I hate you.”
Mike’s answer is to snuggle down around me, licking behind my ear once before purring contentedly.
I giggle, causing Chase’s eyes to narrow in my direction.
I raise my palms up in surrender. “Sorry. Sorry.”
Chase pouts.
“Aw, poor boy.” I squeeze his leg. “How about I get you an ice pack?” Carefully, I get up from the sofa so Mikey doesn’t fall forward. My effort is wasted when, unhappy with me leaving, the vengeful feline pounces onto Chase’s already damaged crotch.
Air whooshes from Chase’s lungs as his eyes roll back, watering. Mikey continues on his descent, landing on the floor before sauntering away without a care in the world.
Silence reigns.
Finally, Chase moves, inhaling deeply.
“Oh my god.” Kneeling in front of him, I rest my hands on his thighs. “Are you… how can I help?”
His eyes flutter open only to shut fast on a groan when he sees me. “For a start, you could not kneel in front of me.” He tries adjusting the crotch of his pants but stills on a whimper. “My dick is confused. He needs to rest, but with you looking like his next wet dream, he’s trying to rise to the occasion.”
I nod, pulling my lips between my teeth to keep from smiling and rise. “Sure thing, boss.”
“Not helping, Ms. King.”
* * *
Chase
Naked TV time is awesome.
Okay, so Bell made us both put on underwear because she didn’t want me distracted from the movie with her nakedness.
Please. She can’t fool me. We both know she really meant she’d be distracted by my nakedness. When I called her out on it, she just rolled her eyes, called me delusional, and commandeered the remote.
Whatever. Her boobs are still out, so I consider the boxer brief/panty compromise a win.
“Come out to the coast, we’ll get together, have a few laughs.” Bell whispers the words to one of her favorite movies before chuckling, her breath tickling my chest.
Her eyes lit up when Die Hard popped up on our streaming options. “A classic,” she said. I’m pretty sure classics are more in line with Citizen Kane, Gone with the Wind, or even The Godfather, but I hadn’t been stupid enough to argue with her.
Boobs out, remember?
Plus, feeling her lips move over my skin as she lip-syncs the entire movie from start to finish is far more entertaining than its over-the-top explosions and cheesy one-liners.
Before starting the movie, she ordered Chinese food. We ate as I iced my junk. By the time the last crab wonton had been fought over and devoured (she won), my dick was back to full strength (I won).
Don’t worry, I was smart enough to lock Mike in the bathroom first. If I was going to finally unwrap Bell from my shirt, I didn’t want to worry about a hairless bag of skin gunning for my dick. Fool me once and all that.
And now, Bell is curled into my side, bare breasts pressed against me, both of us basking in a post-orgasmic glow. Or maybe Bell is. I’m not sure guys are allowed to glow after sex. Hmmm. Whatever, I’m secure in my sexuality. If I want to glow, I’ll glow, damn it.
I don’t even care that Mike shredded all the toilet paper, making my bathroom look like a winter wonderland. Totally worth it.
