“I kissed him at a sushi bar.”
“Youdid?”
“Yeah, I was pretty hard up that night. Kinda like now.”
“I guess that explains the hand,” I say.
“You have nice abs. That’s why the hand,” he says.
“And your erection?” I ask, because yeah. I looked. I noticed. I’m not the only one pitching a tent.
“You have a nice ass, too.”
“Thanks.”
“The best ass maybe. Everyone’s always talking about your ass. I try not to notice, but it’s not always possible.”
“Why not notice?” I ask.
“Because crushing on your roommate sucks.”
I sigh. “Yeah. It does.”
“But here we are,” he says.
“Are we, though? This feels very out of the blue.”
“Really? Because I feel like I had to wait all weekend.” Deacon’s hand moves down my outer thigh, then to the top of my thigh over the shorts.
“I’m sure you and Isaac found plenty of ways to pass the time.”
“Yeah, but we talked about you, too.”
I groan. “I wish you wouldn’t. I can stay out of it, I swear.” I say that, but I’m also lifting my knee to part my thighs, in case he wants to explore some more.
He does, his hand moving immediately to my inner thigh and groin, his fingertips slipping into the hem of my shorts to glide along the super sensitive skin. I suck in a shaky breath and fight to keep my eyes open. “Do you still want me?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I sigh, heart pounding. Because I’m pathetic.
“I’m right here.”
Does he want me to touch him? I wouldn’t even know where to start. “This is an interesting side of you,” I say. “Unexpected.” So unexpected I think I might be dreaming this.
He goes ahead and pulls my cock out of my shorts and strokes it a few slow, breath-stealing times. “What’d you expect?”
My head is fucking exploding. “I thought you’d need more encouragement. Convincing. Instructions.”
“You’re welcome to give me instructions.” His weight shifts. While his hand moves fully into my shorts to free my cock and balls, he moves lower on the bed.
I lie back, as wanton as I get, and lift my hoodie to reveal my stomach.
The warm skin of his cheek meets my lower abs. Deacon positions my cock with his fist wrapped around it, his tongue licks out across my slit, and I bite my lip on a low groan.
“Is this okay?” he asks, when it’s already way too late for me to refuse. Not that I would have.
“Mmhm. Can I touch you?”
He murmurs an assent, and I jam my fingers through his thick, dark hair. It’s borderline aggressive, and he responds accordingly, wrapping his mouth around my crown. I fight the urge to thrust. It feels so good. So hot. So tight. I don’t get many blow jobs. I tend to give them, but the handful I’ve had were all great. No notes.
