Gus
Kissing Billy seemed to last forever, but at some point we fell asleep, fully clothed and wrapped around each other like star-crossed lovers.
I woke to darkness sometime later. Billy was on his back and I was pressed against his side, one arm thrown possessively over him. He was clinging to my wrist as if he was scared of something, blunt nails digging into my flesh, scarred knuckles straining. I sat up on my elbow and unpeeled his fingers from me. He shifted and rolled to face me. I pulled him close, tucked him against my chest, and went back to sleep.
It was morning when I woke next. Billy was quiet and still. I figured him asleep. Then I felt his morning wood straining against mine, and realised he was wide awake. And hard.
Hard for me.
The tunnel vision I’d fallen asleep with returned full force, and I was on him before I could truly contemplate what I was doing. Kissing him was like breathing. An unconscious action, but at the same time, so conscious I felt every fragment of our connection as though live wires were buried in my nerves.
I’d never wanted someone so much. Never craved to be inside someone so deeply my brain turned to mush. Only the reality that he wasn’t ready kept me from tearing his clothes away and reaching for my bedside drawer. In my head, my touch was bruising, demanding, but I ran gentle hands over him, ghosting over his clothed skin. I needed him to know how much I wanted him.
I needed him to know I could wait. That it didn’t matter.
Like he’d read my mind, he pulled back, fixing me with his trademark cynical stare. “I can’t let you fuck me.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“You want to, though.”
“So?”
“So... I don’t want you to be bored.”
“Bored? With what? This?” I brushed a soft kiss to his cheek, taking care to keep my hips still. “You’re out of your mind.”
“You don’t wish we’d spent all night fucking like a Grindr hook-up?”
Words formed to tell him I wouldn’t change a thing. That the night we’d shared was perfection, but the dick print behind my sweatpants betrayed me. All I had was the truth.
I moved fast and rolled Billy onto his stomach, pressing against him before the startled gasp had left his lungs. “Don’t tell me how I feel.”
Billy laughed. “Why not? It’s true.”
“I’ll tell you what’s true.” I thrust against him just enough to make my eyes roll. “We live together. Work together. Now we sleep together, and we’ve got all the time in the world to get to this. If it’s what we both want.”
Tension rippled through Billy as he fought the desire he couldn’t deny. He groaned and raised his hips a fraction, once, twice, three times. I drove the heel of my hand into his back, and met him in the middle, chasing friction. If he didn’t want me to fuck him, he was doing a terrible job of showing it, and my willpower had limits.
Hard limits. It would’ve been so easy to slip my hands beneath his waistband, and then my own. I pictured it as we ground together, slowed it down so every clothed thrust ramped up the torture. Billy’s groans grew breathless, and his hands balled into fists. “Please, Gus.”
Sweat beaded my brow, and then it hit me that he wasn’t asking me to give him more, he was asking me to stop. To take control of us before he lost it and did something his head wasn’t ready for.
It was a strange thing that he’d always been the one I’d wanted most, and yet the only man I’d ever physically pulled away from. Hook-ups were mutual. Premeditated, and even the thrill of the unknown was dulled by the inevitable. Billy was something else. I wanted him more than I could put into words, but I cared about him more.
So much more.
I eased off and dropped down beside him again. I couldn’t bring myself to apologise for throwing him around, because I wasn’t sorry. And when he finally rolled over and faced me, he didn’t look sorry either. His gaze was clear, his cheeks flushed, and the gentle heave of his shoulders went straight to my dick.Wow. Way to rein yourself in.
Billy scrubbed a hand down his face, then let it drop to the wrist he’d been clutching as he’d slept. He wrapped his fingers around it and pressed his thumb into my pulse point. “I’m not ready for you.”
“Perhaps I’m not ready for you either.”
Billy snorted. “As if.”
But we were talking about different things. I could’ve fucked him a thousand times over if he’d wanted me to. That was the easy part. It was the rest of it I was unprepared for. Without the distraction of him melded against me, my mind raced. What if we had fucked? What if I’d slept with him and then pushed him away like I did everyone else?
Worse, what if he’d pushed me away? History taught that it would’ve suited me, but the razor blades in my stomach said otherwise.
