“What?” he says.
I tweak one of his nipples, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to get his attention.
“Back on your stomach,” I say.
For a moment, he pushes out his lower lip in an uncharacteristic pout, but then he does as I say. I smack his ass as he reaches beneath himself, no doubt trying to ease the ache where his cock is pressing down into the bed. He yelps, but his hand reemerges, palm spread over the comforter.
“Very good,” I say. “Let’s get started.”
11
Charlie
This feels reallydifferent from sex with Gavin. I’m lying on soft blankets while Mason essentially gives me a massage. His hands run up my calves and over the backs of my thighs, and I brace for the impact of his hand on my ass, only for him to carry on over my ribs and around my shoulder blades. When he starts to make his way down again, I tense, sure this time he’ll smack or bite or something to get my attention. Instead, he peels my underwear back so that the elastic snugs up under each cheek, before he kisses with a hot open mouth, working from the base of my spine and moving lower.
“What do you think I’m going to do?” he asks.
I struggle for words, because talking about your ex with someone else while they massage your ass feels like bad form.
“I don’t know.”
“Then don’t worry about it.”
“Easy for you to say.” I try to make it sound funny, but it’s hard, because my head is spinning with all the things he might do to me. The toys. His hands. The bottle of lube lying against my hip. His cock. Never mind his words. He could ask me to suck him off again. Take his cock in my mouth, in my ass. Gavin liked to have me hang my head off the edge of the bed so he could feed himself deep into my throat where I couldn’t breathe.
Finally, Mason’s hand lands on my ass with a smack, and I try to center myself around the ache.
“Charlie,” he says, voice low. “Who’s in charge?”
Here, at least, I know the answer. “You are.”
“So what do you have to worry about?”
All the things I could do wrong? The things I could try to do only to find out he doesn’t like them?
He spanks me again, the impact blooming heat under my skin.
“Answer me,” he says.
Panic flutters in my chest.
“I don’t know,” I say, though it’s painful to admit.
“Nothing.” He smooths his palm over my skin, before settling my underwear back into place. “You don’t have to worry about anything. You have to feel. If you’ve had enough, just say—”
“Peppermint schnapps.”
He laughs, kissing my shoulder. “Yeah. I was going to say you just have to say so, but peppermint schnapps works too.”
Gavin never stopped when I asked him to. And I could tell he got frustrated when I had to schnapps him. But that’s what safe words are for.
For a long time, we don’t do anything else. He just keeps touching me. Kissing me. It’s nice. Relaxing...eventually. It’s hard to let go of the fear that he’s going to change the pace, or start making demands I’m not sure I want to fulfill. But finally, I have to accept that whatever he wants to do, we’re not doing it yet and I can’t make him hurry up. I close my eyes. My next exhale is a long one.
“Good,” he says, hands on my shoulders then up my neck and into my hair. He spreads himself over top of me, his body covering mine. His heavy erection, still bound in his underwear, settles itself into the crease of my ass, and I moan as he starts to rock, sliding himself back and forth, the friction of fabric creating heat that slowly works its way up my spine and down my legs. I stretch my arms overhead, reaching for the bars of the headboard. He follows, wrapping his hands around mine, and we just flow like that for a while, with me rutting into the mattress while he presses his weight on top of me.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asks.
“I think so.”
