“Don’t stop,” he murmurs.
“You said we were only kissing,” I protest.
“You should have thought of that before you went tracing your hands erotically over me.”
“I wasn’t being erotic.”
“Your hands were on me, that’s enough.” His voice is filled with a dusky desire, which makes me semi-hard.
“Oops,” I say, trying to sound coy It doesn’t really work but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“Oops indeed. Now you’ve created a problem we’re gonna have to fix.” He grabs my hand and places it firmly on his cock as if to emphasize what the problem is. The other hand wraps round myneck and pulls me in for a deep kiss. The effect of feeling his hard dick through the thin fabric and his lips on mine has my semi fully hard within seconds.
“Um, two problems,” I say when he breaks the kiss. He looks down at my boner, evident in my own boxers, and chuckles.
“Just know that this is all your fault,” he says, scooting backwards up the bed to sit leaning against the headboard.
“Take them off.” He indicates my boxers and I climb off the bed to step out of them. He strips off his own and throws them onto the floor. I’m mesmerized by his dick, longish and not too thick, jutting out of a bed of dark hair, precum leaking out of the angry red tip. It’s a beautiful sight.
“You can look all you want from over here.” His words break my fascination, and I glance at him and the amused smile he has. He pats his thighs as an invitation and I sit astride them, then he pulls me forward into a kiss and my dick rubs against his. I can’t help but rock my hips a little seeking some friction.
“That’s it,” he croons and reaches between us and wraps his hand around us both. With his thumb he wipes the precum off the head and works it down our shafts. It’s enough—just. His hand moves faster, up and down, and the pressure is exquisite. I have to watch, transfixed by the sight of our cocks together, the sensation of his hard dick on one side and the friction on the other side is incredible.
“Now that is erotic,” I say breathlessly.
“Hell yeah,” he moans. My hips move involuntarily, thrusting more into his hand as he keeps up the rhythm. My toes curl and I arch my spine, the familiar delicious tingle starting in my lower back. I’m not going to last long.
“Oh fuck,” I groan, and he shuttles his hand faster. He leans forward, claiming my mouth in a messy kiss, moving his lips down my jaw and neck, sucking lightly on my skin.
“Oh, dear god, fuck me,” I pant, unable to stop babbling.
“No, I’m not going to fuck you on some mangy motel bed. When I fuck you, I’m going to lay you down on a bed of petals and fuck you so hard you’ll see stars.” His words push me over the edge and my orgasm rips through me as I spill over his hand. He comes a few thrusts later, and I’m still shuddering because I haven’t come so hard in a long time. He rests his damp forehead against mine, his breaths erratic. I look into his eyes and for a second see a look that feels soul deep, before it’s gone. His hand slackens and I look down at the sticky mess of our combined cum that’s covering both of us.
“Oops,” I say and give him a grin.
He just raises an eyebrow and says, “Look what you made me do.”
I stand first and ease the cramp from my calves. He rises and pulls me toward the bathroom and into the shower, and we take turns washing each other, interspersed with long lazy kisses. Because boy does Reece like to kiss and I’m here for it. It would have been worth paying the mechanic to take an extra day for this. Eventually we get out of the shower and get dried and dressed.
“Now I get to buy you that breakfast I promised,” Reece says, and we walk along to the diner.
We breakfast on pancakes and Reece explains that in England, bacon with pancakes is just not a thing. And the bacon is different—thicker, not as crispy.
“Sounds like ham,” I say. “Yeah, that wouldn’t work.”
He just laughs. It’s easy and free of tension, and while I can’t erase the past, I kind of wish that he’d come back sooner. After breakfast we check out of the motel and head to the garage. Thankfully my car’s ready and we can drive back to Gomillion. We don’t talk about what happened, instead we stick to easy subjects, but we occasionally glance at each other and find the other already looking, and we share a smile. Movies turn out to be a contentious subject. Reece likes action movies and thrillers, whereas I’m more of a rom-com type of guy, though we do have some favorites in common such asThe Fall Guy,Pirates of the Caribbean, andZombieland.
“What about thePrincess Bride?” he asks, and I look over to see if he’s joking. It does sound like the sort of film he’d like.
“I’ve never s-seen it,” I confess and he looks at me intently.
“You’re joking, right?”
“No, I’ve never watched it.”
“Okay, stop the car, I need to get out,” he says with mock seriousness, and then laughs. “We need to remedy that because it is one of the best movies of all time.”
Eventually we make it home and I pull up outside his mom’s house. It feels odd to say goodbye after spending over forty-eight hours in each other’s company.
