He raises his eyebrows, and I nod. Perhaps a little too eagerly.
Harry climbs on my lap, his knees near my waist straddling me, reaches back, and grasps my cock. He places it at his hole then rests his palms on my chest.
“Easy now,” he says.
I take hold of his waist. Peering up at him like this, with the light from the kitchen shrouding him, he looks like a fucking angel. I’m not religious, but right now, I feel like I should pray and thank someone.
“I’m in no rush, Harry.”
My thumb coasts over his hip bone, trying to take in every ounce of him. After all these years, it’s happening. Well, it sort of happened at the semi-finals, but this is something different. Not because of the fucking. Because we’re in his place. We’ve been on a real date. Dinner. Skating. He asked me over. We had pizza and salad. This is more.
As he guides me in, he bites at his lower lip. He’s slow at first, taking some deep breaths, waiting, then accepting more. I had three of my fingers inside him, no problem, but my cock is fatter. Longer. Harder. I do my best to focus on Harry’s beautiful face. His body connecting with mine. But really, being inside him this way, my dick feels like it’s marching in a damn ticker-tape parade.
“There we go,” he says. He’s lowered himself down. I’m completely inside him. “You okay?”
“Me?” I ask, trying to ignore the fluttering in my belly. “Better than okay. I’m fantastic. Harry,this is . . .”
“Awesome.” He pushes a long breath out of pursed lips.
“Yeah, awesome. Does it feel good?” My eyes scan his face, his mouth so fucking beautiful I want to take a picture and make it my phone’s background.
He nods, eyes focused on mine. “Darius, you feel amazing.”
There’s a smile on his face when he says it, and I can feel him relaxing, letting my cock settle inside him.
“Harry. You . . . you . . .” My mind zooms, searching for the right words to convey how he feels. Not just the sex, but him. Being in his place. So close. Connected to him in a way I only dreamed about. “You really have to know how sorry I am. About being a jerk. About teasing you. I was crushing on you so bad, and, and . . .”
“Coach.” He places a finger over my lips. “No more apologizing. You’ve already made it up to me.”
I kiss the tip of his finger then take it in my mouth, gently sucking as he picks up the pace, his hard-on bobbing like a buoy while he bounces on my dick. I’m focused on the feeling, the pleasure, being inside him, and then Harry starts making these noises. It sounds like a whimper but then kind of morphs into a moan. He’s thrown his head back, clearly enjoying himself—which only makes me harder.
“Peterson. I’ve wanted you since you walked into the teacher’s lounge talking about wanting to fuck Wolverine.”
I lift my hips, plunging into him as he massages my chest, eyes rolling back.
“Wolverine?” This seems to bring him out of his sex stupor. “Huh?”
“Nothing. I was just saying I’ve wanted you for a long time. Since that first day you were talking about Wolverine.”
“Are you trying to turn me on more by talking about Hugh Jackman?”
Without letting go of Harry’s hips, my thrusting pauses. “Are you really talking about how hot you think Wolverine is while I’m literally inside you?”
He shrugs, leans over and plants a sloppy kiss on my mouth.
When he pulls back I say, “I’m not jealous of Wolverine. He may have giant claws, but I’ve got this.”
I move my hands down, spreading his ass wide, and ram my dick deep. The moan that comes out of Harry’s mouth sends shivers down my spine, and he bends to reward me with another kiss.
“How about a new position, Coach?”
“What did you have in mind?”
Harry carefully dismounts me, gives my cock a quick stroke, grabs my half full glass from the coffee table, and gulps it down.
“Between your fingers and riding you, you’ve opened me right up.” He wipes his mouth, returns the glass, then bends over the couch.
He crosses his arms over the cushions on the back, pulls his knees on the sofa, and juts his ass out. With a glance over his shoulder, he says, “C’mere, Coach. Ready to hammer me home?”
