“Fuck,” I groan, long and low, and my cock starts to pulse inside of him, waves of pleasure rushing through me.
Percy clenches around me and cries out. Just because he doesn’t shoot any cum, doesn’t mean I can’t feel every shudder of his orgasm, his dick twitching and spasming in my hand, andhis inner muscles milking every last drop from my balls until he slumps against me, breathless and still trembling.
“Fuck,” I mutter again with a weak laugh. “If you’ve got another one in you, just let me catch my breath and I’ll suck you.”
Percy wheezes and groans, easing himself off of my softening cock. “I think I’m good. I’ve never come that hard in my life.”
My ego has me puffing up my chest, even though I’m still trying to catch my breath.
“Neither have I,” I confess, lapping at a droplet of sweat that tries to drip from his chin.
He gives me a shy smile and then presses a soft kiss against my lips.
“Do you want to stay?”
It feels like a loaded question. Do I want to stay the night? Do I plan to stick around? He could mean either, but it doesn’t really matter because the answer is the same.
“Until you’re sick of me,” I say with a laugh.
Percy’s eyes spark with something sweet that makes my chest ache, and he brushes another kiss to my lips. I shimmy down into a lying position and wrap my arms around him, pulling him close so his chin is on my chest and he’s making little circles with his fingertip in the center of my chest.
“Be careful with an answer like that,” he warns.
“Try me.”
He grins, and a comfortable silence falls between us for a few seconds, nothing but our breathing and the faint sound of traffic outside. I don’t know what he’s thinking about or what the silence means to him, but I just don’t want to ruin this perfect moment that feels like the start of something. At least that’s what I hope this is.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
PERCY
My ass issore as hell. Not just my hole, but my ass cheeks too. I can still feel the places where Butch’s fingers dug into my skin, holding on to me like his life depended on it while I rode him. My cock tingles from the barrage of memories and a smile tugs at my lips before I even bother opening my eyes. Whatever else happens between us, everything about last night was just… perfect.
The smell of sex is still heavy in the room, and the backs of my thighs are sticky from lube. Definitely going to need a shower and to wash my sheets, but even an extra trip to the laundromat isn’t going to dampen the too-big feeling inside me. I pry my eyes open and roll over.
The other side of my bed is empty. The pillow is all smooshed and the blankets are rumpled, but I’m very much alone. I guess I kind of deserved that one, considering this is exactly how Butch woke up last weekend after the first time we hooked up. I’m tasting my own medicine, and I’m really not a fan.
Maybe he had an early training session this morning though. Or maybe he figured I wouldn’t want him here in the morning. Sure, the cynical, self-deprecating part of me really wants to believe that he got what he wanted and now he’s over it. Or worse, that the sex wasn’t as good for him as it was for me, and he didn’t want to hurt my feelings by telling me that to my face. But my gut doesn’t actually believe that. It just doesn’t feel like Butch.
I push my sheets off and get out of bed. I clench my ass cheeks to feel the slight ache, needing the physical reminder that last night was amazing, even if I am waking up alone. Juno must have come home at some point, because I can smell coffee and the distinct scent of blueberries as I’m pulling on a pair of shorts. I open my top dresser drawer and grab the first T-shirt inside, which turns out to be the crop top I wore to Sweat the first time. I’m half tempted to toss it back and grab something else, but, on a whim, I tug it over my head.
I glance down at myself. Butch was right, I am starting to have visible abs. I could actually wear this shirt out in public and not feel self-conscious about it now. My smile is back in full force as I step out of my bedroom, braced and ready for Juno’s inevitable loving interrogation about how last night went.
“You’re up early,” I say with a yawn. “Thanks for clearing out last—” I stop mid-sentence and glance back and forth between Juno, sitting in the living room with a cup of coffee and a huge grin, and Butch standing in our small kitchen, wearing nothing but his tight red briefs and the apron I bought Juno as a joke a year ago.
He looks up from the stove with a smile that makes my knees quake and waves our Darth Vader spatula at me.
“Butch is making breakfast,” Juno says needlessly, with delight in their eyes and their shit-eating grin getting even wider.
“I hope that’s okay,” Butch says. “I made coffee too.”
“Yeah,” I croak, finding my voice again. “Yeah, it’s okay. I just thought…” I cut myself off again. Sure, last night was all about vulnerability and sharing our insecurities, but that’s a lot harder in the harsh light of the morning. The way his eyes soften, I know he knows what I was about to say anyway. “No one’s ever made me breakfast before,” I say instead, shuffling into the kitchen to pour myself some coffee.
“Excuse you?” Juno scoffs.
“I meant no one’s ever fucked me senseless, spent the night in my bed, and then made me breakfast. Roommates don’t count.” I add cream and sugar to my coffee and take a sip, leaning against the counter and watching Butch flip pancakes. He looks absurdly hot in that too-small apron, with his bulging muscles and the hickey I left on his collarbone.
I want to wrap my arms around him from behind and kiss the back of his shoulder. I want to thank him for making breakfast and ask if he wants to take a shower with me after we eat. Last night things felt so couple-y, but the last thing I want is to misread things and get all clingy now that we’ve had sex.
