Page 48 of Strange Lad

“That easy?”

“Yes, Oli. It’s that easy. This whole game is about trust. You are safe and can set boundaries.”

“Okay,” he says with a breath of relief. “Who’s turn is it?”

“Yours,” I tell him easily, despite him having cheated last time.

“I want to touch your lips.”

Oli

Porcelain

“My…lips?” his dark brown eyebrows furrow.

I’ve fantasized about his lips for most of my damn life. And earlier, when I’d held his cheek and my thumb skimmed the corner of them, I could hardly breathe. They’re the perfect blend of masculine and soft. The deep cupid’s bow looks like a little valley. I’m nervous and scared that I'm pushing myself too far and too fast, but like most things with Jorge, I feel immense peace. He soothes me just with his presence.

“Yes. Is that okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” he breathes and stays perfectly still.

Butterflies explode in my stomach as I lift my hand. I can’t decide how to touch them, so it hovers for a few beats. Gingerly, I raise my pointer finger and stroke the dip of his upper lip. Jorge’s lashes flutter as he sucks in a sharp breath. I study his face, watching the tiny twitches in his jaw and the flare of his nostrils. Emboldened, I drag the pad of my finger over his lip. Pure energy buzzes through me as I swipe it back and forth.

“Okay?” I ask again because he’s ramrod stiff.

He nods, pushing into my finger.

I trace the seam of his mouth, loving the soft texture. He’s beautiful, always so beautiful. Moving lower, I pluck the plump bottom lip and then switch to my thumb. The faintest noise leaves him while I repeat my motions from the top one. Clockwise, I stroke both lips, applying pressure before releasing. And when I stop at the middle of his bottom lip, I can’t help but tug it down. He whimpers, his eyes closing. When he squirms beside me, I flick my eyes down to his cock. He’s hard, his bulge pressing against the seam of his jeans.

He’s smaller than I thought, especially when I could onlyfeelhis erection earlier. Knowing he doesn’t have a baseball bat between his legs helps. It makes my heart race. Just how small is it?

“Oli,” he whines, my thumb still holding down his lip almost obscenely.

I tear my hand away. “Sorry,” I rasp.

When his pretty brown eyes open again, his pupils are blown out. “My turn.”

I swallow hard as blood rushes to my dick.

My aversion to touch doesn’t change my bodily needs. And it needs something currently—it’s demanding something. I feel dizzy, excited, and nervous, but I am relieved this is finally happening. However small, it feels so monumental to me. Life-altering. Jorgewantsme. And he’s been so patient, so fucking understanding. It hurts knowing I can’t be a man and show him how much I appreciate it.

“Alright,” I say, preparing for whatever he might want to ask me. A flash of fear crowds my emotions. A warning bell sounding off that he will want to take. He willwant, and I won’t.

“I want to feel your pecs. Seriously, they’re like bricks.”

I blow out a breath, flexing subtly, and he purrs like the kitten he is. “Yeah?”

“If that’s okay.”

“It is.” I absently widen my legs, making room for…I don’t know what.

“For best optimal touching, I need to get closer,” he says huskily.

“Alright,” I rasp.

My arms go to my sides, and he slowly climbs into my lap. He sits on my left thigh, his legs hooking in between mine. Twisting his torso, he gently lays his palms on my chest. Our eyes find one another’s, and he bites his lip. There’s a light squeeze where he has his fingers.

“Holy fuck,” he says, shocked. “Jesus.” And then he kneads the fleshy muscles, working his blunt nails through my shirt.

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