I laugh, biting a little harder on his leg. He lifts up and grins down at me, nudging me with his knee.
“Lie down,” I tell him. “I’ll show youfine.”
He laughs but cuts off on a groan when I suck him intomy mouth. I do my best attempt at deep throating, but pull back the second my gag reflex kicks in. Retreating to the tip, I bob my head shallowly, while making up the difference with my fist. Nate moans, hips arching rhythmically upward as he carefully fucks himself into my mouth. He’s no longer talking, which I hope means that he’s no longer nervous.
When I notice my heart rate start to pick up in direct opposition to how little I’m moving, I reach a hand down between us to stroke myself. My skin is breaking out in a sweat, and the room feels ten degrees hotter than it did when we got up here. Setting an almost punishing rhythm with my hand, I hollow my cheeks and suck Nate’s dick as far as I can down the back of my throat. He says something, but I miss it when he comes, hips still rising and falling as he works himself to completion. Sliding back until just the head of his cock is in my mouth, I groan around him when I come on the bedspread.
The moment I can, I sit back, making sure to scoot my knees away from him so we’re no longer touching. He’d spread his legs wide to accommodate me, which means, kneeling here at the end of the bed, I’ve got quite a lovely view. When he opens his eyes and looks down at me, cheeks a little red and eyes bright, I feel it in my belly.
I am so screwed.
“Come up here,” he requests, holding out his hand. I shake my head mutely, looking at that hand. My skin feels clammy with cold sweat, and my chest aches from the effort of keeping my heart rate at a manageable level. I don’t think I can touch him anymore. I need a break.
“I can’t.”
He stares at me, dropping his hand down and leaning up on his elbows. After a moment, he shuffles over toward thewall, lips quirking upward when his calf encounters the wet spot on the bed where I came.
“Sorry. I’ll clean that up.” Embarrassed, I reach for my underwear, intending to go grab a towel from the bathroom.
“Wait, don’t go. It’s fine. Do you want to lie here?” He pats the spot he just vacated hopefully, grinning at me. I eye the space, trying to calculate whether we can both fit on our backs without touching.
“Okay, but…please don’t touch me.” I will myself not to blush or stammer my way through that sentence, humiliating as it is. I’m feeling a little ill, and I need a second to try and control it. We might as well be on the moon, for how little oxygen is in this room right now. Nate only scoots a little closer to the wall and smiles, patting the bed once more in a silent appeal. Carefully, I stretch out next to him, still wishing I’d put on my underwear, but happy that I’m at least no longer in his direct line of sight. He rests both his hands on his stomach, and sighs.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he tells me, for about the dozenth time.
“Me too.”
“You’re better at blowjobs than I am.”
“Not really.” I scoff, thinking back to the night we met. He clears his throat.
“Can I ask you a question?” I hum acquiesce, but stay silent. I already know what he’s going to ask. “Can you explain the no-touching thing? Is it…like, a phobia?”
“No, I don’t think so. Listen, I can’t explain it because I don’t really understand. I’ve never talked to anyone about it before. I just don’t really like it when people touch me, and I feel…wrong when people do. That’s all.”
“But it’s okay sometimes? Like, just now? Or were you doing that even though you didn’t really want to?”
I glance over at him to find worried green eyes already on my face. “No, it’s okay sometimes. It’s gotten a little worse the past couple of years, but I feel mostly fine with you.”
“Oh, okay.” He visibly relaxes, smile creeping across his face once more. “Is there anything that makes it better? Or something you can do to help?”
“I’m not sure,” I admit, fidgeting. On the list of my least favorite topics to discuss, my issue with contact is at the top. Add in post-sex nudity, and this is pretty much my idea of a nightmare.
“I’m sorry, I bet that’s hard. I don’t know about baseball players, but hockey players are all over each other. Hell, I’ve kissed Micky before.” He frowns as though something just occurred to him. The shadow passes over his face, and he smiles again.
I smile too, up at the ceiling, thinking about Max’s games. “I’m not the most friendly guy, so I don’t really have a problem with the team. But yeah, you’re right, we don’t go after each other the way you guys do.”
“Hockey hugs are the best kind of hug,” Nate says, turning toward me and leaning up on an elbow. When I glance at him, his eyes are on my chest.
“I should go,” I tell him, voice weak and lacking conviction. I don’t want to go.
“You should stay,” he counters. I can’t stay, though. I’ve never spent a night in bed with another person, other than Max, and the last time we did that was when we were kids and used to sleep together at sleepovers. Seeing the look on my face and reading it correctly, he amends to, “Or just stay for a little bit longer.”
“A little while,” I agree, because I’m honestly not ready to leave anyway. He smells amazing and I can still taste him on my tongue and it’s been a long fucking time since I’ve had anything like this with another person.
Reaching over the side of the bed, I snag my pants and grab my phone. Blocking the screen with my hand in case Nate is leaned over behind me, I check Max’s location. He’s still at home, and I’m sure Luke is still with him. My chest loosens, and I breathe a heavy sigh of relief. He won’t go on a walkabout if Luke is there, which means he’ll be safe. Putting my phone back in the pocket of my jeans, I leave them on the floor within reach of the bed.
“Everything okay?” Nate asks when I settle once more onto my back.
