“Are you going to swallow me?” And then, quickly, “You don’t have to.”
He’s bigger in my mouth now, impossibly large, engorged and leaking and devastatingly hot. My lips are swollen, fat. Maybe they’ll be bruised, and I close my eyes to imagine the sight of that. How I’d walk out of this room tomorrow, my lips abused, and everyone would know. All of our friends. They’dknow. The sight of my lips all the confirmation they’d need, and I moan at the thought, moan around his thick, smooth, stretched skin.
“Nora, I—I…” He gasps as the first warm rush of his orgasm hits my tongue, tries to pull out but I follow him, desperate for more, for the taste of him. He comes on my lips, a drop on my chin, my tongue, taking over for my hand as he pulls and strokes out the rest of his orgasm.
He drops his hand from the side of my head, cupping my ear, to my shoulder. His grip firm, like he’s trying to steady himself against me. Finn slides from the bed, all the air leaving him in a gust, landing on the floor with a thump. His legs are spread wide on either side of me, his cock soft against his thigh and he gathers me to him, one arm around my hips, the other curled around my shoulders. Finn kisses my temple, my eyelids, mynose. I pull away when tries to kiss my mouth, but he stops me, pouts.
He wipes his come from my skin, feeding it to me on his thumb. “You’re so good, Nora baby,” he says when, after a moment of internal turmoil, I open my mouth and lick the taste of him off his skin. “You’re so fucking good.” And this time, when he holds my face in his hands, when he drops his lips to mine, I let him. I let him kiss my lips, open my mouth with his tongue, and swallow his moan, his relieved, tortured sounds.
And, okay. That was a lot.
Compared to the now quiet house, between Finn’s heavy breaths and his heartbeat slowing to a healthy level against my ear, this room is loud.
How loud were we? Did everyone hear us?
Finn is warm, but I start to shake. Finn is calm, but my heart only pounds faster.
Because that was a lot. And we were probably loud. Our friends aren’t jerks but still, I can’t stop thinking about what they’ll say tomorrow, the jokes, and whispers, and raised eyebrows. Theteasing.
“Nora.” Finn’s voice is far away. “Hey.” His hands rub up and down my arms. “You’re cold.”
It’s not that I’m cold. I’mfreaking out. That was intense, unprecedented. And Ilikedit. But I’m not supposed to like it, not this way, like now that I’ve had a taste, I just want to do it again. It was supposed to satiate a craving, not turn the craving into a full-blown addiction. Because we can’tdothis together, me and Finn. We can’t be more than friends, than frenemies.
I’ll be ready to buy my own place this year. I just paid off my student debt. I date men who get haircuts, who work jobs that don’t make them late all the time—or maybe Finn is always late to his job?
What kind of friend am I that I don’t even know the answer to that?
“Nora. Are you freaking out?” He tucks my hair behind my ear. I don’t know why he bothers, it’s probably a mess anyway. “You’re freaking out,” he says, sighs, but not one of his annoyed, bothered sighs. The kind of sigh I haven’t heard from him in a while. The sound is affectionate, endeared.
A bad friend. Bad. That’s the kind of friend, frenemy,whatever, I am.
“Nora? Baby?”
“Finnick.” The two syllables ofnothis full name drop like stones between us. They measure out the distance I obviously cannot carve for myself.
Finn, bless him, smiles. “So, it’s going to be like that, huh?”
I lick my lip, only to be hit with the salty taste of him. “It’s going to be like what?” I ask, innocently. He begged me before, but I’m the one begging him now to play along. Begging him with the force of any loyalty we’ve built between us after more than a decade of sitting on opposite ends of the couch during movie nights, of sneaking alcohol into Judith’s basement, and of New Year’s Eve parties, with my eyeballs.
Because I don’t want this to stop, not right now, but I also can’t talk about it either.
“Eleanor,” he says, stern, and oh god I could kiss him.
Which is technically what got us into this mess in the first place.
But still. If he wasn’t moving to stand, gathering me to him and unceremoniously dumping me—as if—on the bed. If it wasn’t for all that, I’d kiss him for his well-timedEleanor.
“Your turn.” He nods at me—at mycrotch—as he tucks himself back into his black underwear but keeps his pants open.
“Excuse me?” I cross my arms over my chest. “My turn? What is this? A ride at Canada’s Wonderland?”
He arches an eyebrow as he drops his shirt onto the floor. “You ever done it on Thunder Run?”
“You mean, like,sex?” I screech.
He shushes me.Shushes.
“Can I borrow another hair elastic?” he asks, gathering his hair at the back of his head.
