He kisses me again, softer this time. "Come inside. I'll make coffee."
"You know how to make coffee?"
"I know how to push buttons on a coffee maker. Same thing."
I laugh, and he smiles at the sound—a real smile, one that reaches his eyes.
"I like that," he says. "Making you laugh."
"Then keep doing it."
"I will."
We go inside, and true to his word, he makes coffee. It's decent—strong and hot, nothing fancy. We sit on his couch, which is new since the last time I was here, and I curl up against his side while we drink.
"This is nice," I say.
"Yeah. Just... being here. Being with you. Not having to perform or impress anyone."
"You never had to impress me." He kisses the top of my head. "You care about people without expecting anything back. That's rare."
He takes my coffee cup and sets it on the table next to his. When he turns back, there's hunger in his eyes. Dark and intent.
"I want to try something," he says. Not a question this time.
"What kind of—"
He kisses me before I can finish. Deep and filthy, his tongue fucking into my mouth. I moan against him and he swallows the sound, one hand fisting in my hair to hold me exactly where he wants me.
"Been thinking about this all day," he growls against my lips. "Watching you at story hour, wanting to touch you. Sitting across from you at lunch, thinking about what I wanted to do to you."
"What did you want to do?"
"This." He pushes me back on the couch, settling between my legs in one smooth motion. "Want to taste you. Want to make you come on my tongue and watch you fall apart."
My cock throbs in my jeans. "Ash—"
"Just you." He's already working my belt open, yanking at the buckle with practiced efficiency. "Nothing expected back. I just want to make you feel good."
He pulls my jeans and underwear down in one rough motion, and my cock springs free, hard and leaking. He makes a low sound in his throat—approval, hunger—and wraps his hand around me.
"Fuck, look at you." His thumb swipes through the precum at the tip, spreading it down my shaft. "So hard already. So desperate for it."
"Please—"
"Please what? Tell me what you want."
"Your mouth. Please, Ash, I need—"
He doesn't make me beg anymore. Just lowers his head and swallows me down in one motion, taking me so deep I hit the back of his throat.
"Fuck!" My hips jerk up and he pins them down, holding me in place while he works me over. His mouth is hot and wet and perfect, tongue doing something incredible on the underside while he sucks hard enough to make my vision blur.
He pulls off just long enough to say, "Eyes on me. Watch me suck your cock."
I force my eyes open, and the sight of him—lips stretched around me, cheeks hollowed, those sharp hazel eyes locked on mine—almost makes me come right there.
"That's it." He strokes me slowly while he talks, spit-slick and obscene. "Such a good boy, watching like I told you. You'regoing to come down my throat and I'm going to swallow every drop."
