“Lucas.” His voice sharpens, cutting me off, then it lowers calmly, “ Don’t do that. I just… I don’t want you to because I don’t think you’re ready. And honestly…”
He drags a hand down his face, frustration rippling through him.
“I wasn’t expecting this.”
“Well, I am ready, and your dick seems ready as well, Alex, because it’s still hard as a rock.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, and my face flames scarlet.
For the first time since I’ve known him, Alex stares at me—speechless. His disbelief is almost comical, and I fight the nervous urge to laugh.
“I’m hard,” he finally says, voice rough, “because apparently my dick is stupid. It acts like this whenever you’re near me… or whenever you wear those shorts.”
My stomach flutters, heat shooting low. I glance down at him, still thick and rigid in my palm, then up again with a sly hum.
“Hmm. I wonder how much thicker it’d get if I wore lace panties and stockings.”
It’s meant as a tease, but the way his gaze darkens, molten and hungry, steals the breath from my throat.
“I’m just kidding—” The words choke off when I see the fire in his eyes. That look. Like he’d devour me whole if he let himself.Fuck, would he… would he want me to wear that?
“You’re leaving me speechless today, you know that, right?” he rasps, voice hoarse, a brow arched, like he can’t decide whether to scold or devour me.
I nod, my bravado crumbling into shyness under the weight of his gaze and the hunger in it.
“These are new PJs. I wore them because I know you like me in these shorts. I thought… it’d be nice to wear them when I gave you a blowjob.” I say shyly.
“Fuck, baby…” His whisper is quiet, ragged, but I see the temptation flickering hot in his eyes.
I swallow, heart pounding, and whisper, “Please, Alex. Let me suck your cock.”
The plea rips free, shameless, but I don’t care. I’ve wanted this for so long. It’s not just about heat, it’s about fairness. He gives me so much, touches me in ways that unravel me until I’mnothing but need, and I love it. But why shouldn’t he feel that, too? Why shouldn’t I be the one to drive him over the edge?
The truth of it presses at the back of my mind. I used to think I hated this. That part of me was ruined. Tim and his friends made sure of that when they destroyed everything innocent that I thought I knew about desire. For years, just the thought made me recoil. But I’m not that boy anymore. Therapy’s been working. I’ve been healing, moving forward piece by piece. And when Nate finally died last month in that dungeon… I let it all go. The guilt. The shadows. All four of them are gone, and I feel nothing but relief. It’s time to stop letting the past choke me.
And Alex—my Alex—is part of that. He’s my first in everything that matters. Emotionally, romantically, sexually. With him, every touch feels like a first time, every kiss like something new. I want this to be another first with him. Mine. Ours.
“If you don’t like it, I’ll stop,” I murmur, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Just… let me try. If you say stop, I’ll stop. I promise, my love.”
His eyes darken, torn between restraint and the hunger flickering beneath. He exhales, curses under his breath.
“Fuck, baby…” He surges up, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, pressing a kiss to my lips that feels both desperate and anchoring. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. His voice is low, rough.
“This isn’t about me, it’s about you. Are you going to be okay doing this?”
“I will.” My answer is steady, my chest tight with determination. “Just… guide me if I’m doing something wrong. Please?”
His jaw flexes, then he nods. “Okay. But you stop if you don’t want it. If anything feels off, you stop. Understand?”
“Alright.” I smile softly, relief rushing through me.
Before he can change his mind, I ease him back against the pillows. He adjusts, sliding two under his head so he can watch me. The way his eyes follow my every move makes me flush all over, my body open, exposed, trembling—but not with fear, with anticipation.
I settle back between his legs, wrap my hand tighter around his thick length, and stroke. My breath catches at the feel of him, hot and heavy, filling my palm. Then, slowly, I lean down. My lips brush the tip, tongue flicking against the bead of precum.
The taste of him blooms on my tongue; it’s raw, intoxicating. Bliss.
I flick my tongue across the underside of his head, side to side, circling. Another taste. Another. I map his head with my tongue like I’m learning a new language, savoring the sounds that slip from his lips.
