His eyebrows go up and he nudges his nose affectionately against mine again.
“Is that all you’re stressing about? You’re worried your dick is too small? If there was any doubt about your manhood, that would seal it. Being insecure about your dick is practically a requirement.”
I chuckle again, the anxious knots in my stomach loosening.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Butch says. “Now, let me see your cute little cock,” his voice dips to a low growl, and he tugs at the button on my pants but doesn’t open them.
My dick aches and my nipples tingle. The stiff nubs drag against his chest as I catch his mouth in another kiss. My pulse flutters wildly, this time more out of excitement and lust than nerves, and I fumble to tug his shorts down. If I’m going to get naked, I don’t want to be the only one. His cock springs free and I break the kiss so I can see it.
There’s always a moment of envy when I see a cis man’s cock, and it’s no different looking at Butch’s. It’s so fucking pretty, long and thick, the mushroom head dark and swollen, throbbing veins lining the shaft, a droplet of precum glistening on his slit. The jealousy that my cock won’t ever look like his only lasts a few seconds before it’s seared away by the heat of wanting. Wanting to touch, wanting to suck, wanting to learn all the ways I can make him moan and turn his knees to Jell-O.
I wrap my fingers around his base, and his cock jumps in my hand, a low, rumbling moan falling from his lips.
“Is this okay?” I kiss his chin and stroke him slowly.
“I’m not gonna say no to any way you want to touch me, Rocky,” he says hoarsely, his hips twitch to fuck into my light, exploratory grasp. His cockhead nudges against my belly, leaving a streak of sticky precum on my bare skin.
I’ve given a lot of blowjobs and handjobs in dark hallways and club bathrooms, but it feels different being in Butch’s bedroom. No need for us to hurry, no mounting anxiety that he’ll shove his hand down my pants and end up disappointed… Okay, maybe there’s still a little bit of the latter, but it’s nowhere near the level I’m used to. Our mouths find each other again as I jerk him, our kiss falling into the same slow, teasing rhythm of my hand on his cock. Slow doesn’t mean patient though. His breath comes in faster and faster pants and our tongues tangle andstroke with mounting urgency, his grunts and moans huffing against my lips and his hips twitching and jerking to meet every steady tug.
He tangles his fingers in my hair and kisses me deeper, pressing his body up against mine so I don’t have much room to move my hand between us at all. He grunts again and clambers onto the bed, kicking his shorts the rest of the way off and nudging me back without breaking the kiss. I reluctantly let go of his cock and he grabs my thighs again, the same way he did before, hoisting me up and then manhandling me into position underneath him.
“See, there’s one benefit to hooking up with a smaller guy,” I say breathlessly, squirming underneath him just to feel the weight of his body press a little harder into mine.
I don’t know if I’m trying to convince him or myself though. Maybe he’d prefer if I were too big to toss around, but I’m not going to let myself worry about that tonight. If Butch didn’t want me in his bed, I wouldn’t be here.
He growls a sound that I decide to take as agreement, then slides down my body just a little before grabbing my wrists and pinning my arms above my head. “You look fucking good, Rocky. Look at these biceps you’ve got going on.” He nuzzles the small bulge of muscle and then nips at it playfully.
The soft drag of his teeth tickles and makes my cock ache at the same time. I let out a strangled laugh and arch against him to feel the weight of his erection against mine again. With his clothes gone, I can just barely feel the heat of his cock through my jeans. My stomach flutters and my curiosity about what it would feel like to be bare against him starts to win out over my remaining nerves.
“Goddamn sexy,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue down my bicep until he reaches my armpit, and then he buries his face there, inhaling deeply, nuzzling his nose into the thick thatchof dark hair. “Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to do this after a workout? All that sweat beading on your skin, just begging for my tongue.”
He switches to nuzzle my other armpit, his hips snapping to grind his stiff, eager cock against mine. My dick has never ached this much before. It’s starting to become oversensitive against the not-quite-soft-enough fabric of my briefs. Butch doesn’t stop his exploration though, lapping at my armpit before turning his attention to the hard nubs of my nipples. My surgeon warned me that some people lose sensation in their nipples after top surgery, but that hasn’t been an issue for me. The bigger problem is that I’ve been worried that letting a guy lick or suck on them might feel too… feminine. But, nope, Butch lets out another hoarse growl and gently tugs my nipple between his teeth, and there’s nothing feminine about it.
I whine and arch off the bed again, the feeling of his teeth and tongue teasing my nipple shooting straight down to my cock.
“Oh, fuck,” I pant, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling him harder towards my chest.
He takes the hint and sucks harder, using his tongue to lap at the stiff, sensitive bud with little flicks. I grind myself against him shamelessly, the heat in my gut tightening and tightening until he pulls off of my nipple and eases his body away from mine a few inches. The loss of his weight aches in my bones and I whimper.
“Sorry, just a little too much friction.” He chuckles, bracing one hand on the pillow next to my head and using the other to reach between us and tease his cockhead with his thumb.
His hair is messy and his lips are swollen from our kisses, but he still hits me with that easygoing smile of his, waiting for me to tell him how I want this to go. I could offer to blow him. I know I’m good at it and it would be easy, no stress. But I’m kind of tired of easy. It sounds cheesy as hell, but these past fewweeks working out with Butch have taught me that sometimes the things that are hard, things you don’t think you can do, are the most satisfying.
Maybe taking my pants off isn’t the same as climbing a mountain or training to run a half-marathon, but in some ways, it is. It’s one step closer to conquering my goals, one little act that gets me closer to being the confident, unapologetic man I’ve spent years dreaming of being.
With shaking hands, I reach between us and fumble with my button. The damn thing doesn’t want to come undone, or maybe it’s my trembling fingers that are to blame.
“Take a breath, Rocky,” Butch says soothingly, putting a hand over mine to stop my blundering. “Can I help?”
I do as he says and drag in a slow, steadying breath, then nod.
“Please,” I whisper.
He deftly pops the button and holds my gaze as he slowly lowers my zipper. He smiles, hooking his fingers into the waistbands of my pants and underwear, still not looking anywhere but my face, and I nod again. He starts to tug them down and my heart flails wildly against my rib cage, excited and terrified, happy that this is happening with Butch and also worried that it might ruin all the good I’ve found at Sweat over the last few weeks.
He tosses my pants aside blindly and I hold my breath, watching his face intently to see his reaction. My excitement has flagged with all this stress, but my body still feels like a live wire, jumpy and electrified.
