Page 95 of Make the Play
“There is nothing weird about you, but shit—watching you just touch me like that. No one has ever touched my body the way you did just now. It took every ounce of self control I have not to come watching those pretty hands and mouth of yours.”
“You really liked it?”
“Are you pressing for praise? Because I’m more than happy to give it,” Jason smirks, rising onto his elbows. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his face, and his cheeks are flushed. “You give the best dick fondles ever. Ten out of ten.”
“You gave being gay a ten out of ten too. You’re not very discerning.”
“You’re using very large words right now and expecting me to reply to them while you’re in my bed, wearing my clothes, looking sexy as hell.”
“Was that a question or a statement?”
“I don’t know,” Jason laughs, throwing his arm over his face. “I’m just trying not to embarrass myself by coming like a teenager all over your hands or face.”
“It would be very flattering if you did that,” Emerson says, shocked at his own boldness. “Also, I uh, would not mind if you came on my face.”
Jason groans loudly. “Emmy, you’re going to kill me.”
“Death by sex sounds like a satisfying way to go.”
“I can see the headline now: local high school teacher and football coach Jason King—who spent the first thirty years of his life thinking he was straight—had his bisexual awakening due to the new teacher at school. Sources close to Mr. King tell us he liked gay sex so much that he came too hard and—” Jason makes a croaking noise, falling back on the bed.
It is so entirely ridiculous that Emerson laughs, harder and deeper than he’s laughed since he was a child. He falls on his side, turning his head to muffle the sound in the mattress when one of the dogs barks. Jason says something that quiets them down, and before Emerson knows what’s happening, Jason’s big hands are under his armpits hefting him up the bed until they’re sharing one pillow and laughing quietly.
“I didn’t know sex could be fun,” Emerson whispers.
“Me either,” Jason says, nudging his nose into Emerson’s face. “I knew it’d be good though, with you.”
“Does it count as sex if neither of us have come though?” Emerson asks, squinting down between their bodies. Jason’s still gloriously naked, but Emerson’s boxers are damp in the front from his arousal and Jason’s shirt, while comfortable, is getting in the way of him being able to rub more of his body against Jason’s.
“Sex can be whatever we want, but if you’re open to both of us coming, preferably soon, I would be very on board with that.”
“Can I be naked, too?”
“Can you—fuck, yes.” Jason’s hands fly down to Emerson’s shirt, all but yanking it off him, quickly followed by his boxers. “Naked Emmy time, please and thank you.”
Emerson laughs again, unsure if he’s ever felt so happy in his entire life. He knows the answer when Jason hefts Emerson on top of him, their bodies pressed together from the tips of Emerson’s toes to their chests. Every bit of the contact is glorious, the firmness of Jason’s leaking dick so different to the softness at his belly.
“Oh,” Emerson gasps, eyes nearly rolling in the back of his head when Jason holds onto Emerson’s hips and moves him up and down to rut their bare cocks together. “Oh.”
“Theo told me about this. He said it felt good.” Jason continues to move him, dragging their erections together with every roll of his hips and pulling on Emerson’s. “He was right.”
“I like frottage,” Emerson whines.
“Me too,” Jason grits, fingers curling around Emerson’s hips in the most gloriously possessive hold. Everything in Emerson’s brain short circuits, the glide of skin on skin and cock on cock along with Jason’s labored breathing is all it takes for his inexperience to show. When he comes, it’s with a bitten off cry he tries to silence in Jason’s neck. Through it all, Jason murmurs soft words of praise while stroking up and down Emerson’s back in a way that makes him want to stay glued to Jason and never move. Something that very well might happen if he doesn’t move and all the come dries on him. There’s also the part where Jason hasn’t come yet.
Determined to make Jason feel at least half as good as Jason made him feel, he pulls away, moving only enough to get his hands on Jason again. Emerson gives him a few strokes, watching the way Jason’s thick thighs tremble before getting a jolt of confidence that he doesn’t expect, slinking his way down Jason’s body and engulfing as much of his cock as he can. It’s not very much because Emerson’s mouth is not at all big enough to accommodate Jason’s girth in circumference or length, but he gets a good two inches down, which he’s really proud of.
Three things rapidly become apparent. One, Emerson’s gag reflex is a little more sensitive than he thought. Two, despite discovery number one, he likes the feel of Jason in his mouth, hot, heavy and thick with a salty tang. Three, and this one is the most pressing, Jason wasn’t kidding when he said he was close.
“Emmy—” he gets out, fingers curling in Emerson’s hair to give him a warning tug.
Unsure if he wants to try and swallow or pull back, he ends somewhere in the awkward middle, swallowing down a rather large mouthful of Jason’s release while the rest of it lands on his cheeks and chin.
“Holy shit,” Jason groans, petting the side of Emerson’s face. “That was the single hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Again, Emerson questions Jason’s judgment, but there seems little point in voicing that out loud when it always seems to work in Emerson’s favor. That and the fact that Jason looks entirely blissed out while his come drips off Emerson’s face leads him to believe he wasn’t entirely horrible at it.
“I would definitely do that again,” Emerson muses. “Though I wouldn’t mind some water. I think come makes me thirsty.”
