Pausing for a moment to make sure he wasn’t about to bolt, wasn’t about to leave us both frustrated as he had the times before, I opened my eyes and waited for his reaction.
Jack shuddered on a ragged inhale, then lifted his wide-eyed gaze to mine.
I’d never touched a dick that wasn’t my own. The logical side of my brain told me to expect the same thing as when I got myself off. The other side—the poetic, emotional, stimulated, and burning-with-desire side—agreed this wasnothinglike touching my own.
Jack’s surprise gave me the edge to back him against the locker again and work open the button on his jeans then lower the zipper. As soon as there was more room, I closed my fingers around his shaft. We moaned as one, so caught in this singular moment that meant so much. So much, my lungs nearly burst in my chest with how much they expanded.
A few slow, dry strokes had Jack panting faster, gaining momentum with each one.
“We need to talk,” I said.
“Fuck you.”
I shoved my hand lower and cupped his balls—not to threaten, only to excite the way I liked it— slowly increasing the pressure until he gasped. “You wanna fuckin’ fight me now?”
Jack nodded emphatically, then bit the corner of his lip. “Uh, no. Yes. Whatever, just don’t stop.”
There was no stopping. He wasn’t storming off this time.
Jack whimpered in protest when I eased off him. Fuck, that was so hot. Far from weak, the sound was as desperate as my own heartbeat. Desperate for this to be real and not a dream.
Words, we needed to talk about shit, but I could hardly think beyond getting him off.
“Spit,” I ordered with palm lifted.
He did. Then I did.
The absolute lust that came over his face as I lowered my hand tightened my balls so much they ached with need. Doing this to him, and him so into it, was such a rush, the top of my head tingled.
I collected a drop of precome on the way, and when I closed my slightly wet hand around him again, we both sighed as if it were a homecoming. With my other hand, I rolled his balls and tugged.
The harsh lights overhead left no shadows on his upturned face. His pleasure, his need was as open to me as his pants. Jackbit his bottom lip and thrust into my grasp, fucking my fist as much as I was jerking him.
Unable to stay away, I nipped his jaw, then took his mouth when he faced me, swallowing his moans as I thumbed over his slit, circled his glans, and then rubbed just under the head. All things I liked, and my cock raged for action,anykind of friction, and drove me a little insane.
“This is … Crazy … We shouldn’t. Can’t stop …” I said, uh, some sort of rambling, between kissing and licking him.
Jack was right there with me too, nodding as if I’d made sense and licking my lips, sucking my tongue, scraping my jaw with his teeth.
“Fuck, Cal. Fuck. Fuck,” he breathed.
Heat bloomed in my hand as he thickened, hardened even more.
“You gonna come? God, say yes, ’cause that’d be so fuckin’ hot.”
“Yes.” He dug his teeth into his lower lip, turning it white. “Yes.” The moment his hips turned jerky and off rhythm, it happened. A deep groan rumbled in his chest. Jack had the presence of mind to lift his shirt right as white jets shot from his slit. I gawked and milked his dick for every spurt, more entranced with each pump.
The pale ridges of his abs and chest were marked, as was my hand. Both of us stared at his body until our breathing slowed, and then we lifted as one to smile at each other, chuckling.
The sound died out, and with it, the moment.
Jack shoved me away, then jerked his clothes in place, not bothering to wipe the come from his skin, and shoulder-checked me as he marched off.
A-fucking-gain.
“Jack?” I called, but he didn’t turn. “Jack!”
What the hell?
