Page 53 of A Totally Platonic Thing
One more deep thrust with my hand, and I spread my fingers apart as I pulled them out, making sure I’d stretched him a little.
And then I didn’t have to do anything but pour more lube over my cock and fuck him.
Now. My cock, inside him, and Chris was holding his thighs apart to show me his deep-pink, shiny little hole and gazing up at me pleadingly, like he’d never wanted anything more than for me to make him mine.
So I did, setting the head of my cock against him and pushing in, deep and hard, in one long thrust.
My brain went offline, and every muscle seized up. Nothing,nothinghad ever felt like this. I’d had one monogamous relationship where we ditched the condoms after a while, but even that…it was like he’d been made to fit me, like he was sucking me in and clamping down on me and making me crazy. I couldn’t feel his prostate, but I angled myself to try to hit it, and Chris went crazy under me too, raking his nails down my back and grabbing onto my ass to shove me in deeper, as deep as I could go and then some.
I pounded him without mercy, and he didn’t seem to want any.
Chris lifted up, mouth finding mine. We were kissing when I started to come, hips stuttering frantically, all that tight smooth heat sucking the orgasm out of me irresistibly.
Chris shook around me and under me. When he came too, clenching around me like the world’s softest, warmest vise, I nearly passed out, shooting deep inside him in pulse after pulse that felt like they went on forever. His come painted my stomach, wet between us. As I thrust a few last times, drawing it out, I could feel how much wetter he was inside, too.
My come. Filling him up, making the slide of my cock inside him even easier.
Another full-body shudder racked me. I let my head drop down, my forehead on the bed next to Chris’s head, my lips brushing his hair.
His arms around me went limp and his body started to relax, even though his heart still pounded like a racehorse.
“Lucas,” he whispered. It didn’t seem like he had anything else to say; he just couldn’t help saying my name.
And I knew the feeling. “Chris,” I murmured into his ear, tipping my head enough that I could kiss the edge of it.
I could kiss any part of him I wanted. His ear. His lips. His chest, or his stomach, or his ass.
His cock, even though I hadn’t quite gotten to it this time.
But I could. I would. I couldn’t imagine a part of Chris I wouldn’t want to caress with any part of my own body, if it’d make him feel good. If it’d make him happy.
Speaking of.
“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you?”
Chris wriggled under me and let out a contented-sounding little hum.
I kissed his ear again. “Can I take it that means no, I didn’t hurt you?”
“Yeah. I mean, no. I mean, you didn’t hurt me.” He lifted one hand and whapped it gently into my back. “Stop getting me confused.”
I laughed, and that moved my cock a little, and he gasped, and after that I had to lift my head and kiss him some more, and time seemed to flow away in endless moments for a while after that, both discrete and completely indistinguishable.
Between kisses, he murmured, “If we don’t move soon, your blanket’s going to be a mess. I mean, it’s probably too late already.”
“Who cares.” I kissed him again. “I’ll wash it.” Another kiss. “For tonight we can take the blanket from your bed.”
Chris did something wicked with his tongue that had me almost hard again and then turned his head to press little kisses along my jaw. “Who do you think you’re kidding? You know I’ll end up washing it. You never do laundry.”
I nipped his throat. “I’m the only one who cleans the bathroom.”
Chris chuckled and sighed. “True.” I kept kissing his throat, because why stop, but he started talking again, and this time he sounded serious. Even worried. “Lucas? Will you—I need to ask you—” He broke off, and I lifted my head again.
He looked up at me, still flushed and with that freshly-fucked glow, but without the smile I’d been counting on.
“What is it?” I asked gently. Jesus, he shouldn’t ever be afraid to say anything to me. Anything at all. “Chris, what’s the matter?”
“What are we doing? I mean, I loved this. I want—I don’t want you to go all distant on me again. I get it. I get you’re—this isn’t something you expected, right? But I can’t do that again. Sit and wait for you to want to talk to me.”
