“Close,” he chuckles, “I don’t know.”
“Can I straddle you?”
“Straddle me?” he asks.
“So, you lie on the bed, and I kneel over you. We don’t have to; I just like the idea of having you beneath me.”
He whimpers again and nods.
“I need to hear you say it, baby, I don’t want to rush—”
“I want that,” he interrupts, “I want you on top of me.”
I kiss him again, fully wrapping my arms around his waist and holding him close to me.
“Can I take off your shirt?” I ask.
“Yes,” he whispers and nods.
I slide my hands down from his waist to the bottom of his T-shirt, gripping the fabric and sliding it up his body, pulling it over his head.
“You’re too tall for me to do that to you,” he chuckles, “can you take yours off?”
I remove mine and when I return my gaze to him, he’s staring at my abs. I remember his words from last night; I think he has a thing for them. I’m not mad about it; maintaining abs is hard work, so he can stare, touch, lick them… fuck, he can do whatever he wants to them.
“You can touch me if you want,” I say softly, not knowing where his line is after him saying he’s not ready.
He reaches his hand out tentatively, running his fingers long the ridges of my muscles. His breath hitches as I tense them.
“That’s not fair,” he chuckles, “you know your abs are my weakness.”
“Well everything about you is my weakness,” I say, and it’s no lie, everything about him turns me on.
“Take off my jeans?” he asks.
“You sure?”
He nods and I undo his button and fly, reaching my hands inside to grip his hips, before letting his jeans drop to the floor. He steps out of them and moves to his bed, before sitting back, resting on his elbows.
I take mine off too, and make my way over, placing my knee on the mattress before leaning forward and caging him in. Lowering myself between his legs and pressing my forehead against is.
“Remember that we can stop at any time,” I whisper, and he nods.
I kiss him deeply, claiming his mouth. We’ve made out on the bed shirtless a few times, but never in just our boxers. His skin is warm and smooth against mine. I move my hand to his thigh and hitch it up over my hip as I grind against him, feeling so much more through the thin fabric of our underwear.
“This okay?” I ask.
“Fuck yes!” he cries, pulling me in for another kiss.
“I won’t touch your boxers, but you can touch me anywhere you want.”
He moans at my words and starts to run his hands down my back, while I continue to kiss him and grind my hips. I need to be careful, or he’ll make me come before we get started.
“You feel so fucking good, baby,” I murmur.
“Stephen!” he cries.
His hands tentatively move lower, grazing my boxers, running his fingers along the line that meets my skin. I moan, letting him know it feels good, and that it’s okay.
