Page 32 of Screens Apart

mr. smithWell, lucky for you I have a torch

I snorted, then coughed, my rib muscles complaining again. Ugh, I fucking hated being ill! Still, Mr. Smith, had a point. I mean, Taylor had spent more time with me, had more interest in me, and had taken better care of me than most of my previous boyfriends. How had I not seen that before?

But that meant I now had to seriously consider the question I feared most.

thick boy in laceSo I guess you think I should tell him then?

mr. smithYep. Idk if he’ll be ready to hear it. He might run. But I think you’ve gotta tell him

mr.smithOtherwise I don’t think it’ll end well

mr.smithAnd I don’t want to see my sweet boy with a broken heart

thick boy in laceThanks <3 You’ve been so great about all this

mr.smithNo worries

thick boy in laceSooooo any ideas on how to tell him?

mr.smithNope. You’re on your own here lol

thick boy in laceSo mean!

thick boy in laceBtw, I meant to ask, how are things going with your roommate?

mr.smithHonestly? I’m in the same boat as you. I’m crazy about him. I just don’t think he knows it yet

thick boy in laceWe’re both idiots, aren’t we?

mr.smithProbably!

I smiled and shook my head as I typed out a couple more messages before putting my phone down. Talking it out had definitely helped, and it was nice to know I wasn’t the only one who felt like this. Now all I had to do was figure out how to tell Taylor I wanted him as more than a fuck buddy.

Did I start with the “can we be boyfriends” question or did I go straight to the fact I was in love with him?

And how did I even bring the question up in the first place?

Maybe it would be best to ask after we’d fucked. I could put on my sexiest panties and stretch out my hole, then lie on his bed face down, ass up, waiting for him. I’d wanted to try that since Mr. Smith had suggested it, but I’d never managed to find quite the right opportunity. Perhaps now was the time to do it? I could melt Taylor’s brain with sex and then bring up the whole dating situation.

My cock throbbed in my boxers at the idea of waiting for him like that—open and ready for him to use me. Fuck, I wanted that so badly. A tiny groan slipped from my lips as I slipped my hand into my boxers, grasping my hardening cock tightly between my fingers. My hips bucked up, thrusting my cock deeper into my fist as I imagined Taylor’s reaction, the dirty words he’d whisper in my ear as he pulled my panties to the side and realised he could slide straight into me.

“Shit.” The word broke the silence. I imagined Taylor not even removing his jeans, just sliding them down enough to pull his cock out before teasing my hole and pushing inside me. I wondered if he’d wait for me to adjust or just take me, fucking me hard and fast until I was begging to come, crying out as he nailed my prostate over and over and filling the room with my moans.

“Taylor…”

“You know, I think you’re too sick to be doing that.” Taylor’s voice sounded from the doorway, and I yelped, practically leaping out of bed in shock. Taylor laughed softly, and I saw the outline of his body against the doorframe.

“Y-yeah?” I asked, trying to calm my racing heart. “What should I do instead? Have a heart attack from you sneaking up on me?”

Taylor chuckled as he moved across to the bed, and I felt the mattress dip as he climbed in next to me. His body was warm as he pressed up against me, dressed only in tight boxers and a t-shirt.

“I wouldn’t suggest it,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to my neck that had me moaning. “I just think I should do that instead.” His fingers snaked over my chest and across my stomach, sliding into my boxers alongside my own.

I gasped as he caressed my balls before gently pushing my hand away and wrapping his fingers around my cock.

“So, you want to play nurse?” It was meant to be a joke, but the words came out breathy and needy. I groaned, fisting my hand into the sheets as Taylor began to stroke me. I didn’t know how he managed to take me apart with something so simple as a hand job, but he managed it every time. Maybe it was because I’d been thinking about him fucking me. Or maybe it was because I knew there was every chance he was motivated by so much more than the desire to get off. That he thought I was more than just a hook-up.

Maybe there was a chance he’d never thought like that at all…

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