Page 36 of Unruly
Borja holds my hand, guiding me through the tight swirl of bodies until we reach the front door and step out into the cool night air. He drops my hand right away, but a little part of me wishes he hadn’t.
He smiles, his eyes full of acceptance without a hint of judgment in them. “This must be a lot for you. I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you.”
“It wasn’t you. Not directly. It was all of it, I think.”
He nods. “Let’s go home. We’ll walk back so you can clear your head.”
I walk next to him, swaying around people also out indulging in the many offerings available. Envy spreads through me. I want to be as free as these modern people are, but there’s no point. When this assignment is over, I’ll have to return to mypost where I’ll be alone once again. Is it better to indulge once and lose it, or to abstain completely? I have no idea.
By the time we make it back to Borja’s apartment, my head isn’t any clearer than it was, but the sensation is still pleasant. It’s just light enough to keep my heavy thoughts from dragging me under. Standing in his living room, Borja glances around.
“I’ve got a blanket in the hall closet I can bring you.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you need to borrow something to sleep in?”
Oh. I hadn’t considered that yet. “I can summon something.”
“Or you can borrow a t-shirt.”
“Okay, I’ll try it.”
“Wait right here.”
I sit on the couch while Borja disappears down the hall. As I remove my shoes, my thoughts drift back to the way it felt to be pressed against him, the manly scent his body produces when he sweats, the way tendrils of his hair clung to his damp forehead and his teeth gently tugged on his bottom lip.
He returns quickly, holding out a large light blue shirt and a blanket. “The couch isn’t so bad. It’s seen better days, but it’s pretty comfy to sleep on.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” I take the shirt. “Thank you.”
“Yeah. Make yourself at home. If you need anything you can’t find, let me know.”
“I will.”
Borja smiles, hesitating, then sort of waves as he wanders back down the hallway.
I peel out of my clothes, folding them carefully and setting them on the coffee table before pulling the oversized shirt over my head. Hmm. It’s comfortable, if not odd to have my bare legs uncovered.
Climbing onto the couch, I spread the blanket over me and lie down, staring up at the ceiling. Technically, I could return to theRevival House to rest, but I admit to wanting to stay in the Above as long as I can. I’m sure this experience will help me acclimate new Chasers going forward.
I close my eyes and my mind immediately starts replaying the events of the night, but mostly the way Borja’s body felt against mine. A foreign sensation trickles through me, swirling through my belly, then slipping lower, settling between my legs.
My breath catches as my cock reacts, swelling rapidly. I squeeze my eyes closed, willing the urge to go away, but it only intensifies and I find myself sliding my hand down to touch myself.
I can’t remember the last time I touched myself for anything other than bathing. Did it always feel this good? I’ve forgotten. I squeeze my growing erection and a tiny moan slips out. I can’t let Borja hear me, but I can’t bring myself to take my hand away. It feels amazing.
What would it be like to really touch another man again? To touch Borja? Is he long and lean or short and thick or some blessed combination of all the best qualities? I see him in my mind’s eye, standing before me, naked and hard. In his eyes I see desire, and I nod, inviting him to me.
His weight presses me into the couch, his hot mouth crashing into mine as I explore his body with my greedy hands. Our cocks grind together until Borja breaches my body.
My hand turns sticky as my cock leaks and throbs. My skin is heated, my breath shallow, but I can’t stop. I stroke faster, the friction bordering on too much, but still I persist. My belly twists with tension, my cock twitching.
All I can see is Borja above me, fucking into me, staring down at me with a possessive smile dancing on his lips. His ownership of me is a surprising pleasure, my submission sublime.
Say my name.
“Borja,” I pant. Oh, gods, please.
