“More. I—” Looking into his eyes, I saw raw, naked hunger. For me? Or maybe it had just been a long time for him. Either way, there shouldn’t be shame in this. There was nothing wrong with two gay men getting each other off.
We could do that and be friends.
We could do that and get married, and it didn’t have to mean more if he didn’t want it to. I knew by now I wasn’t meant for any real happily ever after. My life growing up had filled me with spiderweb cracks, and this disorder—this illness—was on the verge of shattering me apart.
So why not take pleasure and joy where it was so freely offered?
“Make me come,” I murmured.
Nash groaned, jolting slightly as though he didn’t expect me to say it. His eyes were alight, and he leaned in, almost like he was going to kiss me, before pulling back. Disappointment hitme like a freight train, but it was eclipsed the moment he tugged on my waistband.
I had just enough strength to lift my hips off the bed, and with a single move—annoyingly easy for him—my pants were pooled around my ankles. I watched him watch me. I stared at the way his eyes were fixed on my dick, where I was ruddy and thick and leaking.
He curled a single hand around me, his calluses rough, sending sparks up my spine. He stroked once, from root to tip, then his gaze lifted and his eyes locked on mine.
“Forest,” he said. His voice was thready, almost broken. “You are so fucking beautiful.”
God, the sincerity in his voice. My throat was too tight to speak, so I rocked my hips upward as best as I could, though my body was refusing to cooperate more and more. “I can’t. I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He used his free hand to gather my wrists, one after the other, setting my hands on his shoulders. “Just hold me.”
I felt wrecked as I obeyed him, powerful in a way when he looked at me with that naked desire, and when my eyes drifted down farther, I could see his own dick was straining against his pajama bottoms.
I swallowed heavily as he began to stroke, a light, teasing, testing touch. “You too.”I wasn’t sure I wanted to do this alone.
His hand stilled for a second before he tightened his grip and began to move faster.
“Nash,” I repeated. “You too.”
He looked up at me. “The pleasure is yours tonight, Forest. Okay?”
Something about that was oddly painful—almost like a rejection. I didn’t understand it, but the expression on his face was pleading, and it was in that moment that I knew I would never be able to tell this man no.
Taking in a trembling inhale, I nodded, and his shoulders relaxed. Why he needed that, I wasn’t sure I’d ever know, but it didn’t matter. His grip got even tighter, and I could feel him watching me, watching my response as he began to move his hand faster and faster.
Soon, the room was filled with the sound of his hand on me—the subtlefap fap fappunctuated by the moans he was wrenching out of me. My muscles began to give way, and before I could stop myself, I lost my weak grip on him and fell backward. He managed to catch me with his free hand and ease me down, his knee pressing to the bed as he hovered over me.
And he didn’t stop stroking.
“Tell me this is okay,” he murmured.
I couldn’t form the words, so I let out a whine of pleasure as I nodded, the motion almost frantic, making my vertigo impossible. But if he stopped, I was going to die. I would perish from the frustration of not being able to let go.
But Nash showed no signs of stopping. No, he used the leverage he had with his knee on the bed to stroke me harder. The fapping noise got louder, overwhelming my senses. My balls felt heavy, then tight as that familiar sensation began to pool at the base of my spine.
The edges of my vision went white, and I had time to suck in a single breath before I was coming. Hot ropes spilled from the tip of my cock, hitting my chest, my stomach, and his wrist. Nash’s strokes slowed, his grip loosening slightly, and I could feel his gaze still on me as he eased me back down to Earth.
My entire body felt like I imagined the sky did after the Fourth of July fireworks finale. Everything was an echo, faint sizzles and dissipating heat as my heart began to return to normal. He didn’t let go, even after that. His grip loosened as my dick flopped back against my pelvis, and he rubbed it with a heavy palm until I shuddered from overstimulation.
“Just like I thought,” he murmured.
I opened one eye and saw him staring down at me. “Mm?”
“Beautiful.”
I almost choked on a groan, and as he started to pull away, I managed one last surge of strength, catching his shirt and tugging him back down. He went easily, bracketing me with both arms as he looked down at me.
My tongue felt heavy in my mouth as I forced it to work—the word slurred and thick, but I knew Nash was listening. He’d understand. “Stay.”
