He shakes his head without hesitation.
I grin to myself as I lower his jeans and underwear past his hips and the top of his thighs until his dick is freed. He’s not fullyhard, halfway there most likely due to the intensity of our kiss. Like me.
But this isn’t about me.
I probably shouldn’t be doing this. Not after telling him we couldn’t, not aftertryingto set a good example, to follow the rules.
But I can’t seem to give a fuck about the rules when I want him so goddamn badly.
It’s not that I’m worried about being caught, not all the way out here. This road is dead at this time of night. Silent. Not even the sound of distant cars reach us. We’re alone. No lights. No voices. Just the wind moving through the trees and the steady, rushing pulse of the river. The world feels miles away, like we’ve stepped outside of it. Like time itself forgot to follow us here.
The smell of fog, of wet leaves and pine, lingers in the air, sharp and earthy, grounding me in the moment even as I lose every shred of sense I have left.
I’m already too far gone to stop.
As I take him into my mouth, his cock thickens on my tongue. He moans and drops his head back against the tree. The taste of him bursts on my tongue, and I lap up the precum that leaks from his tip, teasing his slit before I suck him back down.
His hands are balled into fists at his sides. As I hollow my cheeks, keeping him firmly in my mouth, I reach out, grab one of his wrists, and guide his hand to the back of my head, giving him permission to touch me, to use me if he wishes. It at least gives him the courage to give a little thrust of his hips. I move with him until the tip of his cock hits the back of my throat, drawing another long, low moan out of him.
“Isaac.”
This time when he says my name, it feels like absolution.
I know I’ll need to use words eventually, but if I can make him feel good after showing him the worst side of me, then that’s what I’ll fucking do.
He grips the back of my head a little tighter, and I take him a little deeper.
Reaching up, I hold his balls lightly in my hand, rolling them in my palm as my tongue occasionally makes laps around his crown or flicks at the underside of his head. His noises grow louder, moans and whimpers and soft cries. I suck more eagerly to draw them all out, desperate for them to drown out the sounds of the river and the memory of holding him over the water.
“Fuck. Fuck, Isaac, I’m gonna…”
His nails scratch lightly against my scalp as he scrambles to try to pull me off.
But fuck that. I want his cum.
I need it.
It’ll taste better than any other redemption I’ve been offered.
He thrusts one final time, and I swallow around his cock as his hips stutter. The warmth of his release splashes the back of my throat, and I can just make out the salty, delicious taste of it on the back of my tongue. I swallow again. His hips give another jerk, and his throat makes another moan that fades quietly into the night.
I lick around the head of his cock, cleaning up any lingering cum. He lets out a faint, overstimulated whimper, and I let his softening dick slip from my mouth before I push myself to my feet.
The moment I’m standing in front of him once more, he reaches for my belt. I’m tempted to let him until I notice he’s shaking even worse than before.
“Jackson?”
He doesn’t answer, just keeps fumbling with my belt.
I grab onto both his wrists to stop him. “Jackson!”
His gaze snaps up to meet mine, his breath visible in the night air in short, quick puffs. There’s a deep crease between his brows that’s even more pronounced in the shadows, and his eyes are swimming with a cocktail of emotions ranging from panic to confusion to pain.
It’s a view I’m familiar with, even if I haven’t seen it in a long time.
“Shit,” I mutter, realizing maybe a blow job wasn’t exactly the best course of action after everything he just went through.
I never claimed to be perfect, but I should’ve fucking known better.
