“My turn,” he teased, but his voice sounded more like it had beendipped in lust than humor. Though his hand, like mine, worked between the two layers of fabric, his touch rocked me to my core.
“Oh fuck,” I cursed. Letting out a low groan, I wrestled with my control. “Quinn, fuck.” Words failed me and my body moved under his tender touch. “More. Please, more,” I begged.
“Are you sure?” He sounded uncertain. After I nodded, he said, “Well, then you know whatto do,” he teased with a devilish look in his deep blue eyes.
Whether it was payback for me ignoring him all this time, or it was his way to make sure I didn’t feel like we were going too fast, he wanted me to make each and every move. There was lust in the power of having control over the situation and it went straight to my head. And my dick for that matter. Once again, taking the lead, I pulledmy hand from his shorts, a move that took far too much energy than I care to admit, and kneeled beside him on the bed. Holding out the hand that had just been massaging his cock, he took it with the one that had just been touching mine. As we faced each other on his bed, he mirrored my movements. There were a few awkward missteps, but in mere seconds, we were both stripped bare, exposed to eachother in the most sinful ways.
His heavy dick stuck straight out from his body, almost as if it was tempting me to touch it, luring me to his body as if it knew that’s where I belonged. “Quinn,” I choked on his name, the reality of it all falling on me like a ton of bricks.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything.” His voice was tender and warm, caring and concerned.
“Don’t have to? Are youkidding? It’s just that, my God, you’re… it’s…”
“A little big,” he finished the last of my rambling.
Swallowing was suddenly difficult. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” he said, tipping his head down to my eager cock. “Ryan?” he asked, his eyes meeting mine. “I don’t have enough self-control not to touch you right now. You need to make your move. I can’t wait much longer.”The need in his voice was too much for me to bear.
When my fingers wrapped around his hot length, something inside of me shattered into a million pieces. And then when his fingers caressed my dick, all of those pieces came back together in the most beautiful mosaic created only by our joined movements. “God, Ryan. Hell. Your hand, your dick. That’s so fucking good.”
Spurred on by his words,I moved my hand faster. He threw his head back in pleasure, exposing his thick neck. My lips needed to be on his skin, so I maneuvered both of us so that we were lying next to one another again. Our lips met as our hands moved over our cocks. For a minute we struggled to find our rhythm, our motions erratic and anything but smooth. And then, as if we had stumbled upon some elusive rhythm, set in motionat the beginning of time and that was privy only to those who are truly connected, our mouths moved at the same time as our hands. Hips gyrated, cocks pushed into palms.
The early drops of our pending orgasms trickled over our fingers. Skin glided on skin. Passionate breaths fueled our lungs. Lips danced and tongues tangled. “Oh fuck,” I cursed as electricity raced across my skin, pulling myballs up close to my body. “Quinn, I’m coming. Oh fuck,” I cursed and pushed my dick into his hand.
“I’m right there, too. Oh fuck, Ryan.” Our mouths fused together as our hips gyrated almost uncontrollably. The white hot ropes of our orgasms lashed across our stomachs, up on our chests, creating a hot, sticky mess between us.
The world outside could have been crumbling to the ground and I neverwould have known. All I was aware of was the blood rushing in my ears and my erratic breathing as it heaved in my chest.
Eventually, my breathing calmed, as did his. As we lay there in relative quiet, panic started to rise in my chest.What do we do now? What if it gets weird? What if he didn’t like it?
“Relax,” Quinn whispered, brushing the wayward hair out of my eyes.
Mystified by how hecould seemingly read my thoughts, I asked, “How did you know I was worried?”
He laughed before gently kissing me. “It’s in your eyes. Almost like you’re watching a ping pong match or something like that. What are you thinking about?”
I took a deep breath and figured I had nothing to lose by simply telling him what was on my mind. “I just don’t know what to do now. I mean this changes everything,right?”
Quinn looked down at our bodies which were still twisted in knots at the legs. Our chests were separated by no more than a few centimeters. “Well, first of all, yeah, it changes everything.” His words made my anxiety rise in my chest. “Now when I fantasize about you, I’ll know exactly what you look like when you come.” And just like that, he calmed my fears. “And as for what we shoulddo now, I think we should clean up and then grab some food. I’m starving.”
And just like that, everything and nothing had changed.
By the time I came home, everyone was already asleep. It was great to know that no one ever waited up for me, really it was. I didn’t even bother to tiptoe up the stairs. No one would hear me anyway. And honestly, I was still on such a high from what had happenedbetween me and Quinn that I didn’t even care if either of my parents did wake up.
Of course they hadn’t, which made it all that much easier to drift to sleep, dreaming of the next time I could be with Quinn.
“Ryan,” my mom’s voice, calling up the stairs, woke me up from the dream I wished would neverend. “Breakfast is ready. Come on down.”
As I pulled on my clothes, I realized the dream I thought was only dream had been reality. Last night really did happen. Quinn and I were actually together. Not that I could share it with anyone, or celebrate it at breakfast with my family, but I didn’t care. The memories of last night would carry me through the day, making me happier than I’d been ina long time.
By the time I made it down the stairs, my parents were already seated at the table. There was an empty seat and a stack of pancakes waiting for me. Patrick wasn’t at the table, which wasn’t out of the ordinary for any Saturday morning. But what was extremely strange was that my parents were sitting next to me, one on each side, just as we had been sitting last night when we talkedabout my college acceptance letter. The atmosphere was awkward, as if something was quivering on the horizon. “What’s going on?” I asked as I lowered myself into my chair.
“We didn’t get to tell you everything we needed to last night. We understand that you needed some space last night, but we’d still like to talk to you about it,” Mom explained as she lifted her mug of coffee up to her lips.
“What else is there to say?” Sarcasm clipped my words. I cut into my pancakes, hoping that stuffing my face would get me out of whatever conversation they had hoped to have.
“We’ve been in therapy for a while now,” Mom admitted.
