“I didn’t say I was conflictedabouthim.”
“Well, whatever you said, it’s the impression I got. It sounds like you’re not sure how he fits in. And if you’re not sure, thenhe’s likely not sure either, and a conversation could help, but in lieu of that—you could write about it when you can’t sleep.”
“I didn’t say I couldn’t sleep. I said I wasn’t.”
“Deacon,” he says, a warning in his tone.
I take that to mean I’m getting agitated, and it’s agitating him.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “Where do I start? With him?”
“Maybe try answering the question what do I want with my roommate?”
29
EVAN
Ihave a lot to process, and I admit, I haven’t done much processing. It’s like my mind won’t let me. My dick is running the entire show, which makes me feel like a loser and also a coward. Friday afternoon comes, and I’m bent over Isaac’s desk again. But instead of his body covering mine, he’s on his knees lavishing attention on my hole.
It’s making me go cross-eyed. I’m so hard, I’m leaking all over his desk, and I’m not even touching myself. His tongue swipes up my rim and then tickles the inside of me, making me squirm and whimper. I’m damn near on the verge of tears. It feels so good, and I’m so close, but it’s the worst tease. I need more. I need him to fill me and fuck me. I keep telling him this, but he just hums and keeps torturing me with long kisses and salacious sucks. Somuch.
Not enough.
“Aren’t you hard?Christ.”
“Oh, I’m hard,” he murmurs into my ass.
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“Have you seen your hole?”
“What? No. What’s wrong with it?”
He chuckles and licks his glossy tongue over it again.
Now I’m paranoid. I try to clench closed, but that lasts about as long as it takes for him to suck at me, and I’m opening wide again, welcoming that magical tongue back inside. It goes a little deeper this time, making me grunt, which turns into sort of a sob when he withdraws.
Taking pity on me, I guess, he finds my cock, pulling it down between my legs and caressing it gently. He mouths at my balls. I’m wet everywhere. Sweating through my shirt. Tears now streaking my cheeks.
Arching my back, I press my ass harder against his face, needing him to fuck me with his tongue at least. “I’m so close,” I whine.
His strokes on my cock quicken, and I clench on his tongue again, forcing the orgasm that’s been building for at least twenty minutes.
“Mm…baby,” he growls, milking my dick as it unloads. My body shakes with each spurt of cum that shoots out. I know to be quiet in here, but I swear, holding the sounds in just makes the orgasm last longer and become more debilitating. I lose my knees, but he’s got me as I grab onto the desk so I don’t knock him over.
Eventually I say, “I hope you don’t expect me to return the favor because that was infuriating.” Or something like that—not quite as coherent.
We wind up on the floor behind his desk with him holding me to his chest, pressing kisses all over my face. My limp arms encircle his shoulders as I catch my breath and shiver with aftershocks.
“Okay,” he says. “I know you’re annoyed with me, but do I still get to come for dinner tomorrow?”
“Of course you do. Deacon wants you there.”
“That’s not exactly what I want to hear fromyouright now.”
“Of course I want you there.”
“How are things going with you and him?”
