Leo got out of bed, and I didn’t miss the way he moved unnaturally, so his back was to me at all times. He pushed his pants off, leaning over to untangle them from his ankles, giving me a perfect view of his backside.
My cock jumped in my boxer briefs.Get a hold of yourself.
He slipped back into bed, pulling the covers carefully over himself. I considered sticking to my original plan of grabbing some pyjama bottoms, but I didn’t want to make Leo feel weird for being the only one in his jocks. So, I crawled back into bed,extremely conscious of how I was clambering over him, and slipped into bed beside him. Leo moved closer and kissed me again, his hand resting on my waist. I touched him too, at first, very lightly on the back, but when he kissed me harder, I took that as an invitation to roam my hands over his shoulders, then his biceps, then his chest. I brushed a fingertip over one of his nipples until it hardened.
“Do you like that?” I whispered.
“It’s…weird.”
“Bad weird?”
He shook his head. “You can keep doing it.”
I moved closer so I could touch him more easily, and he sucked in a sharp breath.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He looked down at where my crotch brushed against his thigh. “You’re hard,” he said.
“Yeah, that’s what happens when I have a gorgeous boy in my bed,” I teased.
“I’m gorgeous?”
“Fishing for compliments, are we?”
He blushed.
“Aren’t you hard?” I asked. “If you’re not, I might take that as an insult.”
“I am,” he said quietly, in the same tone someone might use to say, “grandpa died.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“It’s embarrassing,” he whispered.
“Why’s it embarrassing?”
“Because,” he lifted one shoulder in a shrug, “it just is. It’s like I can’t control myself.”
“It’s natural. Are you embarrassed when you get hard at home?”
“It depends on what I'm looking at.”
I waited.
“Most of the time, no,” he admitted. “But it’s like if my stomach grumbles when I’m alone. That’s not embarrassing, but it is when I’m with someone else…”
“It’s natural,” I told him. “It’s just something bodies do. There’s no reason to be ashamed of it.” I let my fingers drift down his front to his lower belly, and he sucked in his stomach with a sharp breath.
“Can I touch?” I asked.
He nodded very slowly.
I let my fingers drift down over the soft cotton of his jocks. Even through his underwear, I could feel the warmth emanating from him and his length pressed urgently against the fabric.
“I’m scared,” he whispered.
“Why?”
