I look at the shine on his abs. God. That was fucking hot.
He takes a minute to catch his breath. He grabs a tissue from the bedside table and wipes himself off before meeting my eyes. “Your turn.”
My lips part, but I can’t manage a response as he positions me on the bed beside him, resting my head against a pillow. I watch him get between my knees. God, is that how I looked? On my knees and elbows, as if I were worshipping his dick?
Kieran runs his huge hands over the very top of my thighs, just like I imagined in the school bathrooms the day of cross-country, all those weeks ago. He brings his face close, and I can feel his hot breath on me. My dick twitches.
“Excited?” he asks, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue.
“Shut u — mmph.” I bite down on my lip. What we did at the snow felt good, but Kieran’s mouth around me is a thousand times better. It’s almost too much to handle. The pressure, and the heat, and the wet sounds…
Kieran uses his hand to pump the base of my dick with confident strokes while his mouth covers the head of my cock, and when he tongues the slit —
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” I drop my head backwards and close my eyes. I can’t watch him, otherwise I’ll come in two seconds. I don’t think I’m going to last very long, anyway.
He takes me deeper, and a moan escapes me. It’s too much.
I’m aware of shouting out a warning before I’m coming, toes curling, pleasure washing over me in waves while Kieran’s mouth remains suctioned on me. Then I’m finished, limp on the bed, my body covered in a thin layer of sweat. Kieran presses a kiss on my inner thigh before moving up so he’s lying beside me, facing me.
I stare at his pink lips. “I came in your mouth,” I say.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry, I tried to —”
“It’s fine. It was on purpose.”
“Did you swallow?”
He gives me a wry look. “Did you hear me spit something out?”
“No.”
His eyes soften like he’s smiling, and then he rolls onto his back. I stare at the line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the softness of his lips.
“You’ve done it before,” I say.
“Done what?”
He’s playing dumb. I would get annoyed, except I’ve never felt better in my life.
“Sucked a dick,” I say.
He doesn’t answer, but I swear he frowns for half a second. Then it’s gone.
“You were good,” I say. “Better than me.”
He must be tired, because his eyes close and his breathing evens out. I try to memorise the tiny details of his face. His eyelashes are curled at the tips, and he has a tiny freckle behind his right ear.
His eyes snap open and he catches me staring. How long have I been lying here, watching him? Two minutes, three minutes, five? However long it’s been, it’s now time for him to go. He pulls himself up and out of the bed, then picks up his clothes off the carpet. I watch him get changed with my head propped on my palm, like a voyeur.
“I’ll let myself out,” he says when he’s done.
“Okay.” I wonder if that’s what I’m meant to say. What is proper hookup etiquette? “See you then.”
“See ya.” Then he’s gone, closing my bedroom door behind him.
I drop my head back to my pillow and listen to his receding footsteps.
