Page 45 of Stupid Dirty

For a minute or two we lie there, side by side, but not touching. The bed shakes gently with the movement of his hand and all I can hear are his soft, panting breaths and that roaring in my ears. My cock is so hard it hurts.

“Hey,” he says, startling me. His voice is breathy and low, like I’ve never heard it before and would sell my soul to hear again. “You should do it too. I can see that you want to.”

I make the mistake of glancing over at him while he talks. His hand is still moving, working over his cock, but his gaze is lockedon mine. He nods his head towards where I’m tenting the sheet as he says it, but I’m distracted by the sight of him.

In the low light, his face is all shades of gray. Even so, I can see the flush that’s climbing up his neck and cheeks. I can see the muscles in his arm flex and extend as he moves it rhythmically, the way his bicep bunches to look fucking huge, and I can see the way his mouth hangs open slightly, with his lower lip looking so thick and pouty I have the most inexplicable urge to bite it.

“Do it.”

He looks at my erection again, and it’s enough to snap me out of my trance. I look back at the ceiling and slowly, hesitantly, slide my hand into my boxers.

I will not look at him again while I do this.

Finally wrapping my fingers around my cock and giving it a gentle squeeze is such a fucking relief I groan. It feels like I’ve been hard for hours, even if it’s only been a couple of minutes. I make a fist and start to jerk myself and it feels like heaven. At first, I wish I had lube, but all the filthy little sounds slipping from Cade’s mouth are going straight to my dick, so the roughness of my palm ends up causing just enough discomfort to walk me back from the edge.

As soon as I joined him in the jerk-off session, he picked up the pace. Now I can hear the slap of flesh on flesh as he moves his hand, and his breathing is turning into ragged gasps. He sounds so desperate, and it’s making me more turned on than I knew was physically possible.

God, it’s barely been two minutes, but I’m ready to explode.

“Fuck,” I bite out. “Fuck, I’m gonna come, Cade.”

I don’t know why I told him. It probably made it weird, but it slipped out.

“Do it,” he says in that breathless fucking voice.

And that’s all it takes. My balls draw up and my body tenses, then cum is spilling hot all over my hand. I hadn’t pulled my dickout of my boxers, because I was being modest, so I’ve now filled them with jizz, but I don’t care about that yet. I’m too distracted by the long, drawn-out feeling of euphoria that’s flooding my body.

It’s amplified when I hear him come beside me. He makes a choked noise and then groans, and then the bed is finally still.

Neither of us says anything or moves for a while. I’m completely drained, in a way that’s good and bad at the same time. Eventually, Cade hands me a dirty t-shirt he picks up off the floor, and I use it to clean up as much as I can, but my underwear is still an uncomfortable mess.

Whatever. That’s a problem for future Silas. Along with figuring out what any of the thoughts floating around my head mean. Right Now Silas wants to go to sleep in a post-orgasm haze.

“Goodnight.”

It’s the only thing he says to me before rolling over to go to sleep.

“Goodnight,” I whisper to the ceiling.

It becomes our nightly ritual. Cade assures me, with that stupid, cocky grin of his, that it’s not weird.

“Soldiers do this when they’re bunking up during wars, you know. Or guys sharing a cell in prison. It just is what it is. You worry too much. Check your father’s toxic masculinity at the door, remember?”

He grabs my shoulder with one big hand and gives it a squeeze as he says this. It makes me melt a little inside, but that doesn’t make me worry any less. Would he still think this was fine if he knew about the thoughts I’d been having about him? Or what I’d been picturing the last time I jerked off at my house?

Every night it’s the same. I bought lube, at least, which has vastly improved our collective quality of life, even though Cade laughed and called me Ritchie Rich, insisting that moisturizer is just as good. But come on, it was six fucking dollars.

If there’s anything I’ve learned from my late-life sexual awakening, it’s that life is too short to skimp on lube.

We lie on our backs next to each other, looking up at the ceiling as we do it. The bed shakes as we both jerk off, and the sound of Cade panting and grunting next to me sets my blood on fire. I still don’t understand, but it’s true. We’ve both been pulling our cocks out properly, because I’m not sleeping in any more wet underwear when it’s too dark to see much, anyway.

I have not allowed myself to look at his cock. Not once. Not even out of morbid, self-destructive curiosity.

Last night, we ended up closer together than normal, and the two-inch no-man’s-land between us suddenly wasn’t there anymore. He’s left-handed, and I’m right-handed, so our arms were grazing together as we both worked ourselves over.

I could feel how hot and sweat-slick his skin was, his firm muscle pressing against mine, and my orgasm hit me so suddenly I felt the cum on my hand almost before I realized I was coming.

The orgasm gripped my whole body, making my back bow off the bed, and the groan I let out was fucking obscene. I felt the motion of Cade turning his head to glance at me, just once, as I came. I heard the now-familiar choked sound that he makes, and knew he was coming, too.

---