Page 103 of Puck Your Feelings
"Shut up." I kiss him again, deep and urgent, pouring everything I can't say into it.
When I pull back, my cheeks are burning. "Teach me, though? You know you'll have to—"
"I know." He grins. "Luckily for you, I happen to be an excellent teacher."
I laugh despite myself. "Why do I doubt that?"
"You're yet to build faith in me. It's a process."
He drops to his knees on the makeshift bed and I follow, sitting back on my heels. My hands are shaking. Anticipation builds in my chest, tightening like a fist, as I watch him fumble with the lube packet before giving up and tearing it open with his teeth.
"Give me your hand."
I stretch out my palm and he squeezes lube onto it, the cool liquid pooling in my hand. He sets the bottle down beside us, then looks at me. "Are you sure—"
"Becker? I thought teachers were supposed to be encouraging, not instill doubt in their students."
"Instill, huh? You really are a robot."
I'm about to snap back when whatever word was on the tip of my tongue dies, momentarily forgotten, as Becker rises from his heels onto his knees, spins around, and gets down on all fours, bent over, ass sticking out.
Right. Fucking. There.
A groan rips from my throat, and I grab the base of my cock hard with my lube-free hand, squeezing to keep from coming on the spot from the visual alone.
Becker's ass is... everything. It’s fucking everything, all round, and muscular, and fucking biteable.
As I sit here, temporarily stunned, Becker looks back at me over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. "Lube up, buttercup."
I stifle a laugh. "Oh my God..."
My hands shake as I rub the lube between my palms, making sure every inch of skin is slick.
When I'm ready, I swallow hard. "Done. Next?"
He laughs. "Seriously?" He looks back again, amused, but schools his feature when he sees my face, undoubtedly serious as a funeral. "Oh. Right. Youareserious. Okay, lesson one. Take your index finger, or the middle one, either works, and—ooh."
His spiel dies in his throat as I press the pad of my finger against his hole and draw a small circle against the puckered skin.
"Like that?"
His voice comes out rougher now. "A plus. Now you can carefully, slowly—mmm."
He stops talking again as my finger’s already pushing inside. Yes, carefully. Yes, slowly.
Truth is, I don't really need the instructions. Nor really. Even though I've never done this before, it's not exactly rocket science. I just want to hear him talk. I need to hear him talk, because I need his voice just as much as I need every other part of him.
I finger him slowly. My eyes are glued to where my finger’s disappearing inside Becker’s body, sliding, gliding, making way.I’m operating on instinct, and yeah, it’s not difficult at all. It’s like I was always meant to be right here, doing just that, with this man in particular. How that happened, I don’t know. The only thing I know is that it’s right.
"Is this okay?" I ask after a while, even though I'm not doing anything different. I just want to hear his voice.
He looks over his shoulder, eyes only half-open now, teeth sunk into his lower lip. God, he's so fucking hot like this.
"I knew you were a fast learner. Bet you got straight A's and all that."
Noting his hole is now slightly looser than it was, I pulls out my finger completely, connect it with a second one, and slowly push both in, relishing in the tightness of his body. “Valedictorian, actually.”
He lets out a strained laugh. "Of course you—oh fuck."
