Page 41 of Top Shelf
I wasin so much fucking trouble. I made it ten steps into my bathroom, then dragged my scrubs down to my knees and grabbed my dick. Pressing my palm to the wall, I began to jerk myself, lost in the lingering scent of Ferris’s subtle soap and the echo of his voice.
With my eyes closed, I could picture him perfectly on my lap, taking every inch of my cock, feeling him squeeze around me, listening to him gasp and moan and beg. He was so unchecked, so fuckinghonest.
Soperfect.
He was everything I had ever wanted and didn’t think existed in the real world.
“Fuck fuck,” I gasped. My balls went tight, and my face heated up as my dick pulsed, then spilled, come dribbling down to be caught by my pants. My chest heaved as I attempted to catch my breath, and I shook my head, trying to clear the fog as I stood up straight and managed to get my scrubs off my calves and kicked toward the laundry basket.
I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror for a moment. My eyes were red-rimmed, and the few lines I had across my forehead were a little more pronounced.
God, what the fuck did he want with a man like me—a man aging faster than I should have. A man whose body was broken into pieces and put back together so haphazardly, every joint ached.
I shoved my hands under the faucet and turned on the water, scrubbing away a few flecks of come before swiping them on the towel and limping into my bedroom. My stuff was mostly unpacked, but I navigated around a few lingering boxes and grabbed some sweats from my drawer.
My plan had been to rot on the couch until my hunger forced me to get up and microwave some dinner, then rot some more until sleep took over.
But I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this horny.
Well, no. That was a lie. In the days that followed Ferris, I’d jerked myself damn near blind until my body refused to get hard again. But even then, I thought of him. I woke up with an erection pressing into the mattress, my hips rocking slowly until I was fully awake and fully aware again that Ferris was gone and I was alone.
What a pathetic, sad sack of shit I was.
Padding into the living room, I glanced toward the kitchen, but I wasn’t really interested, so I flopped onto the couch and put my leg up on a handful of pillows. Clawdine jumped up to join me. She didn’t like being pet. She was the kind of cat who wanted to be near all the time, but if you tried to touch her on your own, she’d scratch your face off.
We got along well that way.
She settled comfortably on my lower stomach and only complained a little when I shifted back and forth to grab my phone out of my pocket. I kept it on silent during my workday and hadn’t realized I was missing texts.
My heart kicked in my chest when I saw Ferris’s name on the screen.
Ferris: I hope today wasn’t too much. My ankle hurts a lot but I figured that was a good sign.
Me: It can be. If it starts swelling or you can’t take the pain, go to the ER.
Ferris: I won’t. I don’t like the ER. It smells weird and it gives me anxiety attacks.
Me: Send me a photo and I’ll tell you if it’s emergent.
Ferris. Okay. I didn’t expect you to text back.
Me: I didn’t think I’d ever see you again and I’m sorry it had to be like this.
Ferris: I don’t like being hurt, but I did miss you. It felt good to have you touch me again.
I couldn’t bring myself to answer that. Letting myself be even a little honest made me too tempted to let it all out. And I wasn’t about to make things more complicated for him.
Ferris: Is that the wrong thing to say?
Me: No. Are you crocheting right now?
Ferris: LOL. I’m transparent.
Me: Show me.
Ferris: *photo*
It looked like it was going to be three peas in a pod.
