Page 57 of Doing Life

“Not going to stop.”

Then one callused hand wrapped around his prick, began to stroke the tip over and over, the touch light enough that it wasn’t causing too much friction. “Never going to stop until you come for me. I dreamed about that smell, the sound of you coming for me.”

“Love you.” Sloan wasn’t going to fall apart. He wasn’t. He was going to hold onto this pleasure with everything he had, feel each and every second of it, and he was going to return the damn favor.

He was going to make Lance fly.

“Love you too.” Lance rubbed his thumb over the slit of Sloan’s cock, making him buzz.

He arched into the sensation, his balls pulled up as tight asthey could be, his belly sucking in with the pleasure and the need ride this wave for another minute. Hell, as tight as his ass was clenched, he might be permanently damaged.

And Lance kept stroking, pulling, and rubbing until Sloan was moaning, steady as a clock, begging for it in a breathless voice. “Please, honey. Please, I can’t— I’m gonna.”

“You don’t have to wait.” Lance reached down and stroked the strip of skin behind his balls. “Come on, baby, let me have it.”

The jolt of electricity sent him bucking, and he shot. He didn’t have a choice. What else was he going to do?

Lance’s laugh was happy, warm, damn near joyous. “There you go. Yeah.”

Yeah, there he went, right into the damn stratosphere. Sloan laid there, sucking in air, feeling like he’d run ten klicks with a full rucksack.

In his boots.

“Damn, babe.”

Lance grinned at him, slumping beside him. “That was good, huh?”

“It was amazing, thank you.”

It took a little while, both of them lying there, Lance easing him into the pillows with careful touches before he gathered all his scattered chickens back up and smiled at Lance. “Do I get a turn?”

“If you want one.”

“I want one.” That was easy.

He reached out. “Awesome.”

Then he put his hand flat on Lance’s chest and stroked all the way down. He didn’t avoid Lance’s half-hard cock, but he didn’t head straight for it either. He wanted Lance to know that wasn’t the point of all of this.

Pleasure was the point.

Pleasure didn’t have to mean orgasms.

It didn’t have to mean anything but feeling good.

He might have read about this a bunch in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep. Research was his friend.

Lance stretched for him, wiggling in the sheets. “This bed is crazy man. It’s like it was meant for me to be right here next to you.”

“Would you believe me if I said I planned it?” he teased.

Lance shook his head. “No, because tonight when we’re both sweating our asses off and we keep rolling toward the middle of the bed, you’re going to be mad. This was a happy accident.”

“We can sleep long ways so we stick our butts in the middle, it’ll be fine.”

He started drawing with one finger over Lance’s skin. Silly things. Hearts, suns. Writing their names over and over. Drawing a target around Lance’s belly button, an arrow on one hip bone.

Lance’s lips were open, his eyes were closed, and his expression was a mixture of fascination and eagerness and this wild curiosity.

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