Page 106 of Him
Meanwhile, we blew each other’s minds (and other parts) in our new bedroom last night. Then we passed out and slept for nine hours in our brand new king-sized bed.
Now it’s Saturday, and there’s still plenty to do. This morning, after breakfast at a diner, I drag Wes around Toronto for a few more necessary items. By the time we finally get home, Wes is in a state of agitation. I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to calm him down with a blowjob.
“That’s three hours of my life I’m never getting back,” he fusses as we walk in. His words echo, because our apartment is still awfully bare.
The reason for Wes’s bad mood is the fact that shopping took three hours, because we’re just a couple of jocks who don’t know one store from another. We went into four stores before we found one that didn’t look like the Queen of England was planning a visit. That’s where we picked out a rug and coffee table, which we bought. But the place didn’t stock coffee makers, so we had to keep shopping.
“Good coffee is non-negotiable,” I told him while he grumbled. But after I chose a dual drip/espresso machine with an integrated grinder, I started checking out the towels. That’s when Wes lost it a little bit, and I gave up and brought him home.
“Oh, the irony,” he moans, kicking off his shoes. “My boyfriend dragged me to a fucking mall.”
“You’re right,” I say drolly. “That trip was entirely gratuitous. Who needs towels? We can just air dry.”
Grumpy Wes stomps into the bedroom and I follow him, because it’s one of two functional rooms in our place.
I set down the coffee maker and watch while he throws off his shirt and climbs onto our giant bed. “Would you please get over here?” he whines. “It’s an emergency.”
“It’s a good thing you’re so attractive,” I mutter as I ditch my shoes. “I had no idea that stepping into a store turned you into cryin’ Ryan.” I walk over to the bed where a shirtless, ripped man lies waiting for me, his expression burning up with lust.
“It doesn’t usually,” he mumbles. “But we have a situation.” He grabs my hand and tugs.
I climb onto his body, leaning down to tongue his nipple, and he moans. “What kind of situation?” I ask between licks.
He lets out a shaky breath. “I thought it would be fun to wear a plug out to breakfast today. That way you could fuck me when we got home…”
My eyes snap up to his. “Seriously?”
He nods, his expression miserable. “But then you said, ‘Let’s just look at a couple of rugs.’ And that was, like, hours ago. Every time I walk across another store, this thing massages my prostate. If you don’t fuck me in the next five minutes I’m going to explode.”
I’m speechless. But my dick has plenty to say. I’m already hard at the idea of Wes being prepped and ready for me. I drop my mouth onto his and he moans again. My tongue glides across his piercing and we’re off to the horny dog races.
We kiss as if there’s a meteor heading straight for the Toronto metropolitan area. Wes’s eager hands roam my ass while I suck on his tongue. His eagerness is like a drug, and I want hit after hit. I can feel how hard he is, even through all of our clothes. He wants me to fuck him, and he’s all primed and ready?
“Mmm,” I moan into his mouth. Sexiest fucking thing I ever heard.
That’s when the doorbell rings.
“Hold that thought,” I say, pushing up on one arm.
“Nooooo!” Wes lifts both his legs to trap me in them. “No.” Kiss. “No.” Kiss. “Don’t even think about it.”
Pinning his hands to the quilt is easy, because he’s horny to the point of distraction. “Stop it, baby. It’s the couch delivery. We’re paying seventy-five bucks for them to show up on a Saturday.”
“I hate you,” he says, but he releases me.
“I can tell,” I argue, squeezing his hard dick as I climb off him. He moans one more time, cursing me, the sofa and also the universe.
I close the bedroom door for Wes’s privacy and for my own sanity. I use the intercom to buzz down to the front desk, and I ask the doorman to send the sofa up on the freight elevator. Then I adjust myself and try to think about boring stuff to deflate the tent I’m pitching in my shorts.
But there is no boring stuff. I start my job next week, and I can’t freaking wait. Meanwhile, I get to explore this gorgeous city where I’m living with the man whose company I’ve craved since I was thirteen. And moving in together isn’t even scary. If you tally up all the weeks we’d spent at camp over the years, we’ve actually lived together for more than a year already.
There’s a whole lot of sex involved now, of course. Everything is different, and yet it’s exactly the same. And it’s a whole lot of fun.
When I let the delivery guys in, there are three of them. “Where do you want it?” they ask.
“Anywhere over here,” I indicate the living room. “We’re going to have to move it when our rug comes, so it doesn’t matter where.”
“Nice place,” the man in charge remarks, cracking his gum. His guys set the sofa in the middle of the space. It’s wrapped in a lot of plastic, so I hope it’s the one Wes ordered.
