Page 27 of Ted's Temerity
“What? No.” That, at least, is an honest reaction. Charlie shakes his head, sighing. “Look. Ted and I…things there are a little strained right now, okay? But it doesn’t have anything to do with Zephyr.” He shoots me an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry if it came off that way.”
“So you did fight with him?” Ash’s face falls. “When? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It wasn’t a fight,” Charlie insists. “We just had an emotionally charged conversation and things are still a bit weird right now. I’m giving him time and space.”
Hearing the confirmation doesn’t really help me. If anything, it makes me more anxious because Ted never mentioned having a falling out with his friend to me, either. Ash and I exchange uneasy glances.
“Just forget I said anything, okay?” Charlie insists. “Please. He…” he sighs, then looks at his husband imploringly, “We’re good, okay? Just…he asked me to back off and drop it, and I am. So…can you leave it? Please?”
Pursing his lips, Ash nods with obvious reluctance. “Fine.”
In his relief, Charlie does not catch the look Ash shoots me, but I obviously do. And I nod, because there’s no way we’re not getting to the bottom of whatever is going on between our Daddies.
Chapter Eleven – Ted
“Oh, God,Zeph,” his beautiful bow lips are wrapped around my cock and I’m finding it very difficult to form coherent thoughts right now.
We’ve disposed of condoms recently, having both tested negative for STIs, and the warm, wet suction of his mouth makes that particular decision one of my finest.
He bobs his head, swirling his tongue over my shaft and through the slit of my crown as he moves.
“You feel so good, darling,” I encourage him further, trying not to tighten my fingers in his thick, dark hair.
I’m sprawled on the couch in my living room, my legs spread wide with Zephyr kneeling between them. My jeans have been thrown somewhere in the direction of the kitchen. The only reason I give two shits about that right now is the sachet of lube stashed in my wallet which is still in the hip pocket of said jeans.
Zephyr hums, sending vibrations through my cock and pushing me ever closer to orgasm.
My brain turns sluggish. “Wait, baby…I-oh fuck,that feels…ungh.”
I throw my head back against the plush couch cushion and close my eyes, reveling in the feel of him sucking me off. He smooths his hands over my thighs and then fondles my balls with one while the other dips lower, grazing my taint and teasing my hole.
My hips buck upwards of their own accord as I groan my enjoyment.
Then I remember that my intention is to not come down his throat.
“Zeph…lube. Wallet.” I used to have the ability to form sentences, I swear.
“Mmm,” he moans around my cock again, and it’s all I can do to keep my eye on the prize. Then he pulls off and asks, “Is the lube for your ass or mine?”
Fun fact: I’ve never been fucked. I’ve had my ass played with, sure, but none of my boys have wanted to top, and I’ve never felt as though I’ve been missing out. In fact, until ten seconds ago, I would have told you I’m a strict top. But what comes out of my mouth is: “Is that something you’d want to do? Fuck me, I mean?”
Zephyr blinks at me in surprise, the blow job all but forgotten. “I’ve never topped.”
I shrug easily. “I’ve never bottomed.”
His eyes are wide now, his disbelief almost palpable. “But…you’d let me…?”
Reaching for him, I pull him up into my lap and kiss his swollen lips. “I trust you,” I tell him simply. “My previous partners haven’t been interested in topping, and I never pushed the issue. But if you want to try, I’m always up for a little experimentation.” I waggle my eyebrows to keep the mood light. “It doesn’t have to be today, or ever if you don’t want to, but I’d be on board if you wanted it.”
“Wow,” he says, those dark eyes of his glazing over. “That ishot, Ted.”
I think about it for a moment, imagining what he might feel like inside me, and my cock twitches between us at the thought. “Yeah,” I agree, the heat and urgency from a few minutes ago building between us again, “it is.”
He mewls and then crashes his lips against mine, kissing me with fervent need. My hands move to the fly of his jeans, popping the button and undoing the zipper with practiced ease. We fumble and shift around as he struggles his way out of them while our tongues tangle together, our breaths mingling and our mutual desire growing.
“Fuck,” he hisses, breaking from the kiss when our cocks connect, both a little slick with precum, “where’d you say the lube was?”
I groan again, this time in frustration. “In my wallet. In my jeans.” I gesture in the vague direction I saw them fly earlier. “Wherever they went.”
