Page 71 of Commitment Issues
“Ah, Christ,” I grind out, screwing my eyes closed as electricity races through me. My blood’s on fire, searing every part of me as I thrust into the tight, hot wetness of his mouth. One hand holds me at the base of my dick, the other rolling and massaging my balls, and all the time the lick and flick of his tongue along my nervy, burning shaft. My moans and groans and muttered curses fill the air as his lips piston along my dick, wet and slippery from spit, and my own juice.
Freddie pulls off me and something that sounds like a whimper pushes its way through my throat. I force my eyes open and my heart almost stops as he straddles me. His dick, long and thin and seared into my memory, bobs against his stomach. My mouth waters and I reach for him, needing to feel him, hot in my hand, but he bats me away and laughs.
“Patience.” He flicks the top of a small bottle.
I hiss as the cool lube hits my heated shaft but all that melts away as Freddie’s fisted hand glides up and down, slathering me with the slick. Wet noise fills the bedroom, the wet noise of Freddie’s drenched fist making a tunnel for my dick.
“You’re not getting all the fun,” he murmurs.
My brain’s fog-bound, incapable of rational thought, deprived of blood and oxygen. I can’t think, I can’t understand, until I do. And I cry out as his cock, as hard and hot as my own, slips against mine.
“Fucking hell Freddie, that’s… that’s…”
But whatever it is, is lost as our slick, hot cocks ride each other in the hot prison of his fist.
Freddie rocks into me, his hips rolling, his arse pressing back against my thighs before pushing forward again. I meet him roll for roll, thrust for thrust, as he jacks us both in a hard, relentless rhythm. Clamping my hand over his, he gasps and mutters God knows what as his breathing hitches hard in his chest.
In the moonlit room, he throws his head back, his hair hanging behind him as our hips speed up. His hand, our hands, matching the hard pace we’ve set. The faint noise from the party has long since dissolved to nothing and the only sounds are our ragged and torn breaths, the wet slap of skin on skin, as we rut into Freddie’s hot, soaked hand. Beneath us the bed creaks, the headboard rams hard into the wall, beating an erratic rhythm.
“Elliot…”
My name on his lips is an explosion in my head and in my balls, ripping my climax through me. I jack us harder, as my hips jerk out of control as hot cum spews from me, overflowing our hands, soaking us, splattering us both. Freddie’s jagged, out of control rhythm falters and stills, his body tensing and quivering as his orgasm erupts from him, hot semen arching from his slit and coating us both, his release merging and mixing with my own.
He collapses on top of me, his breathing as hard and torn as my own. He’s shaking and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close, wanting only to keep him safe through the aftershocks of his release. His heart beats hard against my own, and I brush my fingers through his hair, whispering I don’t know what, in between peppering his soft, silky, sweat-damp strands with kisses.
I breathe him in deep, I breathe us both in, the tang of sex and salt, of sweat, of the lingering aroma of our colognes that could never be a match for the scent of us.
“Bloody hell,” Freddie mutters as he rolls off me, and scrubs his face with the heels of his hands.
My pulse, which had started to calm, picks up once more as my head clears, making a path for indecisiveness to tear through me. He’s asked me to stay the night, in his bed. But his body’s angled away from me, one arm flung over his face, blocking himself off from me. The gap between us on the bed is small, but it’s big enough for the heat we’ve shared to cool.
What he said before isn’t what he wants now. My heart twists hard in my chest as I push myself off the bed and scramble for my clothes.
“What’re you doing?”
In the darkness, Freddie’s voice is small and thin.
“Maybe it’s best if I…” Go. Leave. It’s no more than sex, two unattached consenting adults doing what unattached consenting adults do.
“No. Stay. I want you to stay.” He shivers, even though the room’s warm.
My clothes slip from my hands and I climb back into bed.
Should I touch him, hold him, curl around him, pull him in tight, kiss him goodnight…? We’re covered in each other’s cum and sweat, but I don’t have a clue what to do.
Freddie solves it for me, snuggling into my side and sighing as he throws an arm across my chest.
“They’ll be prising us apart with a paper knife tomorrow… should have a shower, but I can’t be arsed, just lie here like…”
Whatever he says next is swallowed up in a light snore as he falls asleep, curled up against me.
I stare up at the ceiling, watching the dust motes dance in the moonlight, as I wonder what the morning will bring.
