I leaned down over our joined hands and kissed his forehead lightly. “Does it have to mean something?” I asked philosophically, then paused. “Wow, that was very zen of me. I should be freaking out right now,” I noted, feeling around mentally for the anxiety that usually permeated my brain. “I’m not sure why I’m not.”
“Mmm.” He tipped his head up and kissed my wrist. “Feels too good to freak out.” He lifted his hand from Solo’s back, pulled his other hand out of mine, and slowly rolled onto his stomach, putting his face nearly into my crotch and letting the cat barrel-roll with him. He settled his chin onto his hand on top of my right thigh and looked up at me through his lashes. “Hi.”
I couldn’t restrain my answering smile. Or the flex of my dick in my jeans under him. There was no concealing it at this point, but hell, if he wasn’t interested in feeling my dick, he shouldn’t be laying on top of it. “Hi.”
He lowered his head and nuzzled the spot where my thigh met my groin. Through the thick material of my pants, I mostly just felt the pressure, but I could easily imagine the soft press of his lips against the sensitive skin there. He lifted his head again and met my eyes, a question going unasked between us. I nodded my silent assent, eyes wide, and his hands went to work on my pants.
Within seconds, he had my waistband’s drawstring untied and he reared back enough to allow me to lift my hips so he could slip my pants down to my thighs. He kissed the crease of thigh and groin again, and this time I could feel the warmth and a slight suction through the fabric of my underwear. I gasped and stroked a finger at the edge of his hairline as he continued to kiss me. “You’re so good.”
He grinned up at me. “I can be even better, I promise you.” And with that, he lowered his head again, kissing around the waistband of my boxer-briefs and slowly easing the elastic down an inch so he could kiss even lower than that. I let out a frankly embarrassing groan, considering my dick wasn’t even being touched, but the sound seemed to please Jamison, who met my eyes for a moment, his pupils dilated wide, then lowered his head back to what he’d been doing. “Much better,” he murmured into my skin.
I couldn’t stop carding my fingers through his short hair, making it stand on end. “Jamison…” I breathed as his hand came up and tightened on my thigh just as his mouth made contact with the very base of my dick.
He pushed back onto his knees, dislodging the cat, who made a disgruntled noise but dismounted his human ride without deploying his claws. “Sorry, Solo. You probably don’t want to be up close and personal with what’s about to happen, anyway.” The corner of his mouth ticked up in a secretive smile and he looked at me. “This floor is hard on the knees. Want to try the bed?”
I blinked at him for a moment, trying to process his words in my sex-drenched brain, and then realized he was right. We were sprawled out on a hardwood floor with not even a rug to soften it, and there was a bed two feet away. “Bed.” I agreed, scrambling to my feet and grabbing his hand to pull him up behind me. It was a movement made somewhat awkward by the fact thatmy pants were still around my thighs and threatening to fall farther - damn stretched-out pajamas - but I managed it without tripping somehow. I started to pull him onto the guest bed, and then something occurred to me. Well, two things. Thing one: there were no lube or condoms in this room. Why would there be; it was a guest room. Thing two: I had a perfectly good, and well-stocked, actual bedroom one door down. What was I even doing?
I snatched up my drooping pants and secured them at my waist, belatedly catching the eye of Jamison, who looked disappointed. “We don’t have to -” he began warily.
I shook my head and seized his wrist. “My room,” I said shortly. “There’s lube in there.”
His eyes widened in understanding and his smile reappeared. “Lead on,” he told me. And then he shoved a hand down my pants and pinched my ass.
I jumped and maybe sort of squeaked just a little. In a manly way, of course. Laughing, I slapped at his hand. “Hands off the merchandise until we get there.”
“Mmm.” He obediently withdrew his hand, but then used it to cup his own cock, bulging in his jeans. “Better hurry, then.”
I could do that. I grabbed his hand and nearly pulled him out of the room, pausing just long enough to peek over my shoulder at Solo, who had settled atop the bed, before I shut the door behind us. “He’s fine,” I told no one in particular, spinning away from the guest room door and heading for my room.
“‘Course he is,” Jamison said agreeably. His fingers danced along the waist of my pants, dipping just slightly into the elastic in the back as he followed me down the hallway. “He’s got everything he needs in there, plus he just got treats and attention. You’re a good cat daddy.”
How could he be doing dirty things with his hands at the same time he was confidently reassuring me about my animal careskills? By the time we reached my bedroom door, mere steps away from the guest room in reality even though it had felt like a mile, I was panting. I turned the doorknob, for a second unreasonably worried that it would be locked even though I lived alone and youcouldn’tlock the door from the outside, but it gave way and we tumbled into my bedroom joined at the hip and hand.
My bedroom was no great shakes; its style matched the rest of my cabin, which was to say it was relatively sparse. A king-sized bed, covered in my gray weighted blanket, took up most of the space, leaving just enough room on one side for a tall nightstand and on the other for a wingback chair and ottoman. The chair was currently full of a pile of - thankfully, clean and folded - laundry that I hadn’t put away, and there was a stack of books serving as a side table to it. My bed wasn’t made, but it wasn’t a “this person sleeps like a toddler” disaster, either, so I was going to call that a win.
“Hen?” Jamison said quietly from behind me, and I realized I’d been standing in the doorway, evaluating my room with a critical eye, for a good minute, leaving the poor guy to wonder why I’d stopped short.
“Sorry,” I told him, offering him a reassuring smile. “I needed to make sure it wasn’t a disaster.”
“Pfft.” He rolled his eyes. “You saw my room after I got ready for a night out. Unless you have a dead body in your bed, or rotting food smeared over the floor, you’re probably ok.” He pushed past me so he could actually step into the room, and nodded as he surveyed it. “Yeah, see? Neat as a pin. Stop stressing.” He grabbed my hand and drew it to his lips. “And start worrying about more fun stuff. Like what you’re going to do to me now that you have me in here.”
That got my mind spinning. WhatdidI want to do with Jamison? Was ‘everything, right now’ a valid answer? Probablynot; we didn’t have that many limbs or tongues, and I really wasn’t that flexible. Ok, so we’d have to pick. I mentally flipped through images of what I wanted to do to and with him. Blow jobs. Another round of messy frotting. Sixty-nine. Sixty-nine with fingers in play? Or did I want to finger-bang him until he came all over himself and then maybe jerk off onto his already-messy stomach? Ooh, I liked that one. Was I drooling? I thought I was drooling a little. I wiped the side of my mouth and my hand came away damp. Oops.
Jamison, obviously picking up the direction, if not the specifics, of my thoughts, grinned and popped my index finger into his mouth, twining his tongue around it sensually. I whimpered, imagining it was my dick being laved by that talented tongue. After a few seconds, he slipped the finger out of his mouth and directed my hand to the hem of his shirt. “Off,” he commanded.
I could do that. I practically ripped his t-shirt off of him, saved only by the fact that the neckline was cut wide and it went over his head easily. Then my still-damp finger was on the flat disk of his nipple, stroking, then pinching lightly, then flicking. It was Jamison’s turn to whimper, and he clutched the back of my neck, dragging my head to his for a hot, wet kiss. Our tongues danced together for long moments until we finally had to pull apart long enough to breathe. The whole time, I made sure to continue to play with his nipple, digging my fingernail lightly into the protruding nub, just enough to make it sting a bit. He shuddered under my hands.
His hands scrabbled at the waist of my pajama pants for a moment before getting a good enough grip to shove them down. They immediately fell to my knees - ok, so maybe they were just alittletoo stretched out, but was that really a bad thing at this moment? I needed to get them off before I tripped, but I couldn’t stand to break contact, so I pressed my lips back to hisas I leaned down to skin the pants the rest of the way off. I even managed to get them off my ankles without breaking either the kiss or any body parts, and soon I tossed the flannel into the corner of the room and returned my hands to Jamison’s body. With his shirt gone, I had free rein over his slim, toned upper body, and I took advantage, running my hands everywhere over his skin. He shivered under my ministrations, slipping his tongue back into my mouth to explore, and then tugged at the hem of my t-shirt, his fingers tangling in the hole that had eaten part of the fabric. “Off,” he ordered into my mouth.
I ramped up the desperation of the kiss for a long moment, trying to store up the pleasure for the moment we separated, before I could bring myself to pull back long enough to get my shirt over my head. And then we were kissing again. Within seconds, I was following Jamison’s mouth as his upper body moved down as he tried to get out of his jeans without breaking our new kiss. Unfortunately, his pants weren’t as loose as mine, and they put up a fight. “Dammit,” he muttered against my lips.
For god’s sake, we needed those pants gone. Moving almost on autopilot, I wrapped an arm around his waist, hoisted him off the floor, and tossed him onto the bed. There, now he was off his feet and we could work together on his pants. I fell forward onto my elbow beside him and started working at his fly. Jamison helpfully sucked in his already-tight belly, and between us we managed to wrestle the button out of its hole. “For fuck’s sake,” I growled as I moved on to struggling with the zipper, “did youpaintthese on?” I mean, don’t get me wrong, he was hot in skinny jeans, especially when he got turned on and you could really tell that, if you know what I mean. But damn, the things were like the best abstinence enforcement method known to man if you couldn’t get them off!
He pulled his knees up and dragged his pants down, turning them inside out as they peeled off his legs. Finally, they clearedhis ankles, catching there for a few seconds that caused me to growl again and consider just ripping them the rest of the way off before they gave way and landed on the floor. “Finally!” he said, heaving a sigh as if he could finally breathe. “Note to self: do not wear skinny jeans to visit Hen. Ever.”
“Sweats,” I informed him, stretching out beside him and letting my hand dance over his hairless chest. “Stretchy, elastic-waist sweats. So much easier.”
“Mmm, easy access,” he agreed. “I can see the appeal.” His hand drifted down my front to my dick, cupping and weighing it. “I like access,” he breathed into my mouth as we started another round of kisses.
