“Wait.”
He turns around so quickly, I almost miss it. My cock points straight at him as he situates himself on the sofa, facing me. He seizes me, holding the base near my balls, and tugs the condom off.
“I want it. Here.”
He points to his face.
“Um, okay. It won’t take but a second.” I stroke myself and notice Harry’s doing the same.
“Tell me when you’re close.”
I stand there, my orgasm crawling up, a wave of incredible, almost overwhelming pleasure building. Harry jerks himself, but his eyes are focused on me. Well, my dick.
My pelvis begins to tighten, followed by the rest of my body as my heartbeat reaches a fever pitch. I’m staring at Harry. His beautiful face. Eyes. Lips. That soft, blond curly hair. And that’s it. I’m on the edge of a cliff, about tofreefall.
I nod but then realize, he’s not looking at my face. “I’m close. Now. It’s . . .”
Harry lets go of himself and grabs on, first over my hand, but I quickly let go and he takes over, using both hands to pump. It only takes two strokes, and I come undone. My eyes close, head falls back, and I’m drowned in a sudden, intense tsunami of pleasure.
Maybe because it’s been so long since I’ve fucked someone. Or maybe because it’s Harry. Or maybe a little of both. But there’s a lot. Buckets. It just keeps flowing, and by the fourth or fifth spurt, I’m chuckling, overtaken by the complete bliss of it all.
But even after I’ve finished, he doesn’t relent.
“Harry, I’m good.”
There’s more laughing, but Harry doesn’t stop. When I look down, he’s plastered. His chest. Shoulder. Face. Hair.
“Oh, gosh. Harry. I’m so sorry.”
I lift his chin, taking in the damage. His right eye is closed and covered. He’s kind of stuck this way, and I look around, searching for something to clean him up with.
“Sorry for what? I was the one draining every last drop out of you.”
“Fair. Let me get you something . . . do you want to use my shirt?”
“No, I’m good.” He wipes his eye, blinks it a few times, and there he is.
Covered in cum, but just as fucking beautiful.
“What about you?”
“I came. Right before you. You didn’t even notice.”He nods down, and when I glance at my shins, yup, covered in it.
“We’re a mess,” I say.
“That’s easily rectified. How about that shower you wanted before?”
He stands, and, with his entire face slathered in my seed, gives me the softest kiss—as if this, somehow, is still tender. Still sacred. He takes my hand without hesitation and leads me down the hall to the bathroom.
The air between us hums with something unspoken, something fragile and real. And as the door closes behind us, I realize—mess or not, this feels like the beginning of something worth cleaning up for.
14
DARIUS
The sheets tanglearound us as we lie in Harry’s bed, skin still warm from the shower, bodies close but not quite touching. Being this close, it’s like the electricity from what just happened still sparks between us, and I’m so fucking tempted to grab him and pull him on top of me to snuggle . . . or maybe more. The soft rustle of Harry’s breath greets me as he turns to face me, one arm tucked behind his head. His curls are wet, more defined, and the sandy blond hair in his armpit contrasts with his pale skin. God, he’s so damn beautiful, it hurts.
The dim light from the bedside table casts a shadow across his face, but I can still make out the gentle curve of his lips, forming the hint of a smile.
