“Same as last time,” I said, thinking of how we’d rolled around on the rug in the living room, our cocks rubbing up against each other. “First to cum loses.”
“And the prize?”
“Also the same. The loser is the winner’s slave for a single night.”
“Fine.” He nodded at me. “Take your clothes off.”
“Don’t boss me around. You haven’t won yet.”
“Take your clothes off Archie,please.”
“You take your clothes off.” I crossed my arms, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I was, just lying in front of him.
“I asked you first.”
“Don’t care —” I began, just as Taylor climbed onto the bed and started tugging at my shirt. I shoved him away and started pulling at his, rolling us over so I was on top, my legs straddling him. I grabbed the hem of his shirt and he raised his arms, letting me slide it off. He had such nice shoulders. Just beneath his ribcage was the bruise I’d given him, now an ugly mustardcolour. I grazed my fingers over it. Then I leaned down and kissed it.
He made a noise.
I looked up at him. “Does it hurt?”
“No.” He combed his fingers through my hair, almost tentatively.
I kissed up the ridge in the centre of his abs, and then his pecs, and then his collarbone, and then his neck and the underside of his jaw which was ever so slightly prickly with stubble. I’d never seen Taylor hairy. He probably shaved every morning without fail. Another one of his clean-freak habits.
He let out soft sighs as I kissed along his jaw, reaching the skin under his earlobe.
“This is kinda gay,” I murmured.
“Oh, is it?” he laughed. Then slid his hand down the band of my pants, cupping my ass, his hands squeezing tightly, but not so roughly that it hurt.
“Take these off,” he said, thumbs playing with the waistband. Then, as if he could read my mind, “please.”
I shucked my pants off, and Taylor pushed me so I was on my back, my head resting against the pillows. The outline of his erection was obvious. He didn’t take his pants off, though, but lowered himself so he was lying on his belly.
“Lube,” he ordered, sticking an expectant hand out.
Bossy, I thought, but dug the bottle out of my bedside table and handed it to him.
“I want to finger you again.”
“Okay.”
He slicked up his fingers and gently rubbed my entrance. The lube was cold at first, but it quickly warmed up against my skin.
My body tensed as he pushed a single finger in, but I forced myself to relax as he rubbed up against the wall. When he foundmy prostate, my legs jerked wider apart and I gritted my teeth to stop myself from making any embarrassing noises.
He pressed a kiss against my balls, and I propped myself up on my elbows so I could look at him. The sight of him lying there, between my legs, did things to my stomach.
“Can I blow you?” he asked.
“If you want.” I sounded like a blushing virgin again. “I mean, yeah. Fuck yeah.”
Taylor curled his other hand around the base of my dick, and pressed his pretty lips against the head. My breath caught in my throat as I watched him take the length into his mouth, and for a second, something inside me twinged, because he did it so smoothly, so confidently, I thought,shit. He’s done this before.
Then, as his lips met his hand around the base, he choked, a full body spasm, and took his mouth off.
“Sorry,” he said, wiping the spit off his chin with the back of his hand.
