Page 37 of Second Story

“Then listen up because I mean this.” I get busy popping my own buttons. “Someone’s gonna be lucky to get to keep you.” Until then, I get busy showing him I won’t be scared off by what an acid attack started.

As soon as I’m as bare-chested as him, he lets out a sound I’d think was my own, only he doesn’t need a tight hand in his hair to prompt it. But here’s the thing about being the same height as him—I still see hesitation. It fades as soon as I unfasten his belt and get his fly unfastened. His cock is already hot and heavy, his breath shuddering as I squeeze, but he gets it together enough to shove down his suit trousers, his underwear too. Then he’s bare to this faintly pink-streaked light. And to me.

Someone at Glynn Harber sure loves drumming. It pounds along with the pulse in my ears and inserts a lyric I really don’t want to hear on repeat right now.

What if it’s loud enough to wake Len?

“We gotta hurry.” That sounds like it comes from a stranger, not from me. So does the noise I can’t keep in at Joe’s mouth latching onto the juncture between my neck and shoulder. His teeth graze, and I see stars. Then he sucks, and I’m as hard as he is.

His dick is hot in my hand. So is seeing a gleam at its head that dampens the tight ring of my fingers. I work on getting him off, and me cupping his balls means he lets out another groan that drowns out everything but the heaviness of our breathing until our mouths reconnect.

Our teeth don’t clash this time. It’s slick and good from the get-go, and wild in a way I could only imagine night after night alone in bed, with no one I’d trust to look after Len.

That’s got to be why Joe rubbing my own hard-on with the heel of his palm feels like a first. Once my own suit trousers are puddled, my boxers shoved down, I shudder—it’s been so long since anyone but me hurried to get my clothes off. He pauses, checking in, and if his hand around my cock didn’t already get to me, this slow and careful question would.

“You’re okay with this?”

Okay with it?

Right now, I could do what a school librarian once warned me against. Joe’s got me near to melting. He also takes over making decisions, which is useful. I’m too on edge to focus on anything but sensation, on him getting me off, on how it feels to edge closer and closer. I don’t even notice that he’s steered me back to that crate until I almost stumble over the tangle of my trousers. The moment I go down, he’s between my knees, head dipped until he looks up.

“And with this?”

I shouldn’t see more stars, neither in his eyes nor in the sky while it’s out of sight. They still burst to life as soon as he blows me, and I have to clench the edge of this crate to stay upright.

I’m close, sooner than I want. So soon that I could choke like he does each time he takes more of me than can be easy. That’s a sign of him being as desperate as me. For this.

For us.

Joe alternates sucking me off with a hand job just the right side of too hard and fast, and if I don’t ever breathe again, at least it will be for good reason. His tongue flicks, his hold abruptly stopping, and I blink stars away to see his shoulder moving.

“Getting yourself off?”

He nods, his mouth full, and fuck me, it’s a lot to take in. A lot to turn down too, but if we’ve only got tonight, I want to be his reason for seeing the same stars as me.

I slide a hand into hair so much easier to rake through than mine. He lets out another low rumble, a surprised purr at getting petted, so instead of pulling him off my dick like I meant to, I run my hand through his hair again, and if this feedback loop of touch and sound and slick, wet motion is how tonight ends, it might just end me.

His head bobs faster. Harder. Joe chokes one time too many and has to pull off, a sparkling strand of saliva all that connects us until I slide off the crate and onto his lap again, where he holds me. His cock is so fucking solid, and I want it in me enough that I stutter like it’s my first time. “Y-you got something?”

He bites off a curse, so that’s a no.

Then he asks, “You on PrEP?”

“I was in Brighton. Didn’t seem much point staying on it after…” I don’t bother to end that sentence. He already knows what kept me busy. Besides, I’m more interested in getting busy with his dick. I rock against it, and he holds me tighter, thick fingers digging into my hips. He lets me go to reach for the same mats I usually set out in a circle for storytelling sessions in community centres, only he rolls me onto one of them, and I’m flat on my back with his weight heavy on me, and it’s nearly as good as fucking because we couldn’t be much closer.

We’re connected at mouth and pelvis, both of our dicks trapped in almost the best way, and I haven’t dry humped likethis in so long I’d forgotten how much I like being covered like Joe does now. I forgot too that I’d rather kiss than breathe, as long as I’m as close to coming as he gets me. His dick nudges mine, his weight a heavy blanket I fight against. Not because I want him off me. Because I can’t help pushing up each time he grinds down.

It’s pure sensation. Pleasure combined with frustration, both of us close and both of us too tall for the space left on this floor.

Books fall.

So does a box that spills toys I keep for toddlers, and I hope to fuck nobody is anywhere close to where this van must be rocking.

Something else rocks inside me at Joe lifting himself up, but only enough to get a hand between us, and I thought I’d already felt good, had already been close. I hurtle even closer to the end when he holds our dicks together.

I’m there. Right on the edge of a different kind of cliff, where seagulls don’t scream. It’s my shout that Joe muffles, his hand over my mouth only making this more intense. I come my heart and soul out, vision dimming until I can drag in deep breaths and watch what he shows me.

Joe gets himself off, but I’m his focus. Me. He doesn’t look away for a single second, braced over me on an arm that wears another symbol of strength, and right now I wish whoever did that to Joe could see that they didn’t break him. He’s rock solid until the moment I take over. My hand wraps softness covering steel, which describes him right before he crumples. My own shoulder muffles his groan, and I take his weight when he collapses.

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