Page 43 of Full Split
“You know,” he says quietly, “I didn’t think about it before I asked you here. Might’ve been an asshole move. Reminding you of West and I as kids.”
They used to come out here with a blanket and some battery-operated candles or string lights to eat dinner or play their handheld video games. They’d even fall asleep up here more often than not. Still, I can’t reconcile that kid with the man sitting in front of me now.
My lips twist into a wry smile. “What are we doing here?”
He smiles. “We needed somewhere to talk. But first…”
Then he’s moving, crawling across the platform and planting himself in front of me. On his knees, he’s slightly taller, so I angle my head up to see him smiling down at me. He brings his hands up to softly cup my face and leans down.
His lips are soft, and warm, and pliant against mine. I feel like a bumbling idiot, but soon enough I forget where I am, who I am, and how easy it would be to make a fool out of myself. I melt into the kiss, pushing into his mouth when his tongue softly licks against mine. My arm snakes around the back of his waist, and I pull him closer.
He falls into my lap, knees falling to either side of my hips. I hold him tighter against me and kiss him like I’ve wanted to since the night he opened my eyes to every dangerous possibility. He tastes like salt and desire and every bad idea I’ve never let myself have.
My thin sleep pants are a pathetic barrier. I’m genuinely concerned I might bust through the fabric and impale him. He grinds down and I groan.
“Be nice to me,” I manage. “I’m too young to have a heart attack.”
“Poor old man,” he teases against my lips. He keeps rolling his hips against me, kissing and licking and nipping. His voice drops low. “Now tell me… what was it you liked about me in the hot tub?”
He doesn’t stop moving, that delicious friction and his words coursing through my veins like fire. “God, Niles.”
“What did you want to do to me? You wanted to kiss me, and then what?”
“I—”
His hands find their way under my shirt, and he rakes his fingers over my stomach. I push up under the back of his tank top, relishing the feel of his skin beneath my palms as I drag them along the rippling muscles. The whole time, he moves against me like he’s riding me, and the friction is too good.
Before I know it, we’re shirtless, breathless, kissing until I’m dizzy, writhing against each other. His back arches, and I lay him out, climbing over him.
I don’t even know who I am right now, but the sheer need coursing through my body takes over me. I kiss down his neck. His chest. Trace his scars with my tongue. He arches under me, his whole body trembling.
“I want to taste you everywhere,” I whisper.
He freezes momentarily, pushing onto his elbows to look down at me. “It’s usually the other way around.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mostly, guys tend to want me to do all the things to them.”
I rake my eyes down every inch of exposed arms, chest, and abs. How could anyone not want to devour him?
“Maybe you should stop dating assholes,” I huff, resuming my quest to run my tongue along the grooves of his abs. I stop to nuzzle into the thin line of hair that leads from his belly button. “I’m sorry for every asshole you had to deal with before me, but you’re done with them now.”
He gasps, and his abs flex. Then he laughs, and I make my way back up to kiss the source of the happy sound.
“The more you say things like that,” he says, “the weaker my knees get. I might just accidentally fall, and impale myself on?—"
I look down at him. “How could you fall on me if I’m the one on top?”
“For now maybe,” he grins, and my cock twitches at the implications. Niles must notice, or at least he takes the opportunity to tighten his legs around me and grip my ass. I drape myself over him and move with him, obeying his silent demands and ultimately dry-fucking us both into oblivion.
Holy fucking hell, Niles is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen when he comes. He throws his head back and gasps, mouth and eyes open in shock, like he’s surprised that it happened. And all of these crazy thoughts start bombarding me, thoughts that nearly come tumbling out of my mouth. Like how I want to make him make that face every hour, on the hour, for the rest of our lives. That I haven’t even come yet, and this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced.
That I want to drink his arousal, lick up his cum like a fucking cat, and make it happen again, over and over again, until I finally satiate this impossible thirst that’s been rising inside of me.
That I want to be inside him. That I want him inside me.
The mental image of Niles on top of me, first fucking me, then riding me, is what sends me over the edge. I paint the inside of my underwear in so much cum, it’s bleeding through the fabric of my sleep pants before I’m even done.
