Page 75 of Sweat

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” My body temp skyrockets as the need to climax reaches great heights. I become almost fearful of my release. “Fuck, Rowan. I need to come. Please.”

The second his grip softens around my balls and the base of my cock, a flood of pleasure rushes up my spine to flood my brain with dopamine. I climax while shouting expletives and digging my fingers into the muscles behind Rowan’s shoulders as his head bobs on me and his throat swallows around me.

He sucks me dry until I’m spent and panting, sweating on his comforter and fucking trembling. His mouth is what Heaven feels like, I decide. There’s no other way to describe it. He releases me, and it feels like he just spun me into gold.

As I come down from the high, I’m possessed by a frenzied need to claim Rowan somehow. He only likes it when I touch him, which means there’s a decent chance no one has had his ass before. I dream about how tight his anus felt around my finger, and how powerful I felt being inside him at all.

Before Rowan can tell me to put my attention back on the game film, I jolt up and maneuver behind him. I push him toward the headboard and bend him forward.

“Tommy—” he starts like he wants to object. He must feel how firmly I’m rubbing his little hole with my thumb, hard enough to nearly breach that tight ring, because the next time he says my name, there’s a slight warning edge to it.

I won’t fuck him, though, as badly as I want to. I hunker down, lying on my stomach with my knees bent, and I pull Rowan’s hips down until my face is between his firm cheeks. I lock my lips around his asshole and sweep my tongue across it.

“Oh my God,” I hear Rowan sigh, voice dripping with hazy pleasure.

Propped on my elbows, I lift a hand to wrap around Rowan’s cock. As I pay Rowan’s ass all the wet kisses it deserves, I stroke his cock downward, so the tip touches the soft comforter with each of my steady tugs.

“That’s it, gay boy. Fucking eat my ass til I come,” Rowan moans, the filth of it all sparking my cock to plump up under my abdomen.

As I lap at his hole, I’m most shocked by how delicious he tastes. Not rank or fowl, like how I’d typically expect a grown man’s ass to taste. Rowan’s tastes like the rest of his body, silken and salted and devilishly musky. I make out with it like I would his throat, and I stiffen my tongue enough to wiggle the tip through his puckered ring.

Moaning low, Rowan’s hips rock between my mouth and my hand, still stroking him nice and slow. I notice his arm reaching back, and I feel his hand behind my head like he needs to make sure I don’t part from him until he’s good and ready.

“Fuck me, baby, I’m so close,” he mewls. If I thought for a second he was being literal, I’d shoot up to my knees right now and shove my dick in his ass as far as it’ll go.

He begs me not to stop. His thighs twitch and his knees inch wider apart. He murmurs curse words that turn to gibberish when his cock spurts a puddle onto the comforter.

I keep stroking until he’s so spent he’s whimpering into his pillow and flattening his body to the mattress. I stay over him, keeping his cheeks spread and lapping at his asshole like it’s my new favorite dessert. Rowan doesn’t mind; he moans softly like he would if I gave him a gentle back massage. So I keep eating him until my jaw gets achy and my dick is soft enough that I can crawl up Rowan’s body and cuddle against him without stabbing him with my erection.

A couple minutes pass before Rowan finds the strength to pick himself up enough to fit his body against my side. Eyes shut, cheek on my chest, and his arm curled around my waist. It’s the way Lese always liked to cuddle with me, but it feels so much righter with Rowan, and so much more victorious.

Found my softie.

Sweeping my palm along his hip and back, I whisper against the top of his head, “Mine,” and the small hum that leaves Rowan’s throat in response sure doesn’t sound like an objection.

19

Rowan

My body comes alive before my mind does, jolted by sensations that are equal parts arousing and painful, like an electric eel snaking up my thigh, and—

“Stop!” my mouth speaks as soon as my mind comes to. The word comes out choked. Not enough air in my lungs. My eyes open at the same time I sit up and push the intruder off me.

The lamp is still on low, enough light to remind me I’m in my room and that the man I just shoved isn’t an intruder. It’s just Tommy. Naked Tommy, his mouth slack and his eyes as wide as mine feel, unblinking.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, breathlessly.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice coming out meek and whiny. I fucking hate it. My heart is beating a mile a minute, and I have my knees to my chest with crossed ankles like my half-conscious reflexes thought I needed to shield myself from Tommy, of all people—from whatever he was doing to my junk that felt both good and scary.

“I was just touching you. I’m sorry. I’m a dumbass. I thought you’d like it if you woke up to me—I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I intentionally lower my voice until it sounds close to normal, and I relax my body like I try to relax my mind.

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s okay. You just surprised me. I’m not…” I take a deep breath that helps me fully adjust to reality. Enough time has passed that the video on my laptop has ended and the screen is black. My comforter is in a heap at the foot of the mattress, and the AC has been on long enough for the room to feel cold. “I’m not used to having someone sleep over.”

“Well, yeah. Your bed is tiny.”

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