Page 60 of Stepbrothers with Benefits
“Uh, Eli?” Milo asked, his voice quivering slightly. “Do you mind, uh...explaining what the hell is going on? Because I can’t figure out if I should be weirded out, turned on...or telling you to stop because I’m barely turned on enough that that only slightly tickles.”
I snorted, my fingers and palm going flat on his stomach as I looked up. The coarse hair was on my palm, and I could feel his muscles shift under his skin as he took slow breaths, which I realized were intentional. Did his need to calm down come from nerves or because he was turned on?
“And the fact that you’re not immediately getting off me and doing me the decency of starting an ice-cold shower so we can go back to our normal night is making me wonder what the fuck I’m supposed to do next.”
“Good question,” I muttered because the curiosity that had brought about my impulsive touch wasn’t going away after the exploration. In fact, it was like throwing what you’d swear was water onto the flames and finding out too late it was gasoline.
The curiosity was no longer a faint murmur at the back of my head, but spoke with a much clearer and confident voice, and it came bearing many questions. Like, if feeling his stomach was different than those I’d been with before, but not in a bad way, what would it feel like to hold his hips? Or maybe run my hand along his legs because that obviously had to be different. Milo was no slouch at the gym, and his legs were bigger and harder than most women’s, and despite the minimal amount, there was still hair. What about other things like...would his ass be as firm as his stomach from all those squats, or would there be give toit? Would the absence of boobs make a startling difference that would extinguish the curiosity blazing in my head?
Would kissing him be a lot different, or would there be another noticeable difference?
Would that difference...make a difference?
“What is happening?” Milo asked in that same nervous voice, and I wondered if he was about to bolt. Tension was evident throughout his body, and I had the distinct impression he was bracing to do something.
I eased back slightly, no longer compelled to hold him as he lay there, staring up at me with wide eyes, my hand still on his stomach. My other hand slid back, careful to avoid his groin, seeing the outline of what I was now sure was his completely hard dick. I wasn’t feeling bold enough to cross that line. Instead, I settled my hand on the underside of his leg, feeling the hair, the smoothness of the skin, the way his leg shook slightly at my touch, almost quivering, and how warm he was against my palm. I slid my hand up, closer to his hip, my tanned fingers standing out in stark contrast to the pale skin of the part of his legs I had never thought to touch and now found myself fascinated by.
Different, yes. But not unpleasant.
“Are you groping me in revenge?” Milo asked, and I had to fight not to laugh at how his voice squeaked in fear. “Is this revenge? Because this feels like revenge. Really, really,reallymean revenge. How sorry do I have to be about being a drunken idiot?”
“It’s not revenge,” I said with a roll of my eyes, summoning a little more courage and running my hand up until I could rest the tips of my fingers along his shaft. Even through the shorts, I could feel the heat of his dick, and realized, despite how much he was probably panicking and confused right now, he was still hard enough I could feel his pulse make it twitch. Any oddnessabout willingly touching another man’s dick was drowned out by the sudden andgrippingrealization that he was hard because of me. Not just hard, buthard. The kind of hard I was sure any guy understood completely, because you only got hard enough for your dick to move because of your heartbeat when you weretrulyturned on.
Sure, he had been pretty damn hard a couple of weeks ago when he’d been unconsciously pushing it into my hand, but that wasn’t the same thing. He was sober enough to count now, not nearly drunk enough to have an overblown or alcohol-induced dose of enthusiasm for the moment. He was getting intensely aroused...by me. And I wasn’t even doing a lot; I was just touching him. I couldn’t even say that the touching was purely experimental and sexual, though it was both those things; it was mostly to satiate my curiosity and was pretty damn tame.
That meant Milo’s breathing wasn’t just nerves or fear; it was because he was hard enough that it might almost be...me. It was a lot like I’d told him; it really was nice to have someone openly and enthusiastically aroused by me. Milo hadn’t evendone anything,and just touching him and watching him, I could see how much I turned him on. There probably weren’t many people who would blame me for seriously wondering what it would be like if Milo weren’t restraining himself.
I stared down at Milo, who was still looking to me for some sort of answer and guidance, as my last thoughtalmostfloated right by before it snagged...stood in place, and I felt it get caught in a loop. Because...whatwouldit be like if Milo just...went for it? What if he didn’t feel he had to hold back or fight like hell to keep himself from moving? Would that also be different but not unpleasant? Or would the fact that he was a guy, or the fact that he was Milo, get in the way and finally drive home the expected unpleasantness that any apparently straight guy should feel when it came to gay sex?
Milo’s eyes darted back and forth, his hands curled toward his chest and held there. His lips parted, recognition a tiny glint in his eyes. “Uh...not to... I’m trying to hurry this along because I am confused, and you know how stressed I get when I’m put on the spot and completely lost at the same time. And I’mreallygetting the feeling that I was wrong before, but I am being put on the spot right now. I’m not sure what spot, though, which makes it much worse.”
“I guess you kind of are being put on the spot, orinone anyway,” I said, my hands not moving as I realized everything I‘d been thinking made complete sense. “So...what if I said I was... well, I don’t want to say ‘okay with this’ because that sounds more definitive than I can stand by at the moment. But if I were to say that I’m not, not into...this?”
His face scrunched up as he tried to make sense of what I was saying while in a state of complete upheaval. His consternation disappeared when his face went slack with what could only be shock, his mouth working over the same sound before managing, “Wait. Are you... are you saying you’re, uh...do you...am I supposed to be touching you back or something?”
I shrugged. “Like I said, not, not into it.”
“Using double negatives when I’m buzzed, confused, terrified, and horny as hell is mean. I don’t do well with that shit on a normal day,” he said, hands still pressed against his chest.
“Alright,” I said, because obviously the typically adventurous and daring idiot was going to stay locked up while his few brain cells continued to misfire. It was incredibly easy to reach out, take one of his hands, and bring it down to where I found, with mild surprise, that I wasn’t soft. Not as hard as him, but there was no way even his panicked brain could misread the stiffness under his palm as anything but genuine.
His brain still took a moment to process it fully, but he didn't move when I removed my hand from his. Not at first anyway,eyes locked where I had placed his hand, and finally his fingers twitched, twitched again...and then began to close. It was a loose grip, but he’d still wrapped his hand around my dick before looking up at me a few heartbeats later. I could feel I was still hard under his touch, and though it was difficult to tell, I thought perhaps I had gotten a little harder at his touch.
“Go on,” I said, smiling at the kid-at-Christmas hope etched into his face. “And yes, you can back out and fuck off anytime you want. And if I’m not feeling it, I’ll say something. And yes, probably not a good idea to go too far for a first time, eh?”
“First time?” His eyes widened.
“I’m not confirming or denying it.”
“You really should have been a lawyer, God. You almost took the fun right out of it.”
“I notice you said almost.”
“Almost.”
Even someone who didn’t know him would see that his expression was him rallying himself in the last second. A fiercer, foreign to me, glint flashed in his eyes, and then he moved. His hand never left my groin, holding my hard-on firmly, but the rest of him did. I was impressed with the way he managed to shift so my butt hit the ground, dropping the leg he’d had over my shoulder to slide under my lap. In no time, we were sitting on the floor, facing one another, and he drew even closer.
It was only the split second before that I realized what he was going to do, long enough for me to stop him if I wanted, but not enough for me to think through whether I wanted it or not. His mouth pressed against mine, and for the first time, it wasn’t inflamed curiosity that trickled through me, but a shot of pure… what I could only call magic. Once my parents had taken me sledding, which I’d been looking forward to, considering my previous attempts. That was until I sat at the top of the hill, scared for my life, even with my mom behind me. My dad hadpushed us, terror had given way to exhilaration, and the world began blurring and sliding into place, and all I could feel was a thrill.
