I tighten my grip, not slowing down. “You’ll mess up the sheets,” I tease.
“Fuck! I don’t care!” Ian’s voice comes out as a hoarse groan. “I need to bust. Please don’t stop.”
Alright, then.
He throbs in my hand as I speed up, squeezing gently at the head before releasing on the downstroke. Ian sucks in a breath, convulsing, before letting it out in a gravelly moan.
And then he shoots. Oh boy, heshoots. All over my hands and onto the bed. His neck falls back, pressing his head into my chest while his body shudders.
“Oh my god, that was so good,” he says, rolling toward me and onto his back.
I cock an eyebrow at him. “But I didn’t even blow you.”
“So? There’s a lot to love about a good handjob—they fucking rule.” Ian brings a hand to my cock and runs his fingers along it. “How about I give you one?” He tops that offer off with an effortless wink, removing my ability to speak properly.
I nod instead.
“Here, let’s move to the other end of the bed,” he suggests, eyeing his cum on the sheets. “That right there wasn’t one of my best ideas.”
I shrug, smirking. “I don’t know. It was hot.”
“I’ll show you hot,” he mutters. “Lie on your back and put your hands behind your head. Getrealcomfy.”
I comply.
He proceeds to reach down and wrap around my shaft, thumbing the underside. “Lube or dry?”
“I…fuck, usually use lube.” My reply is chopped up by spikes of bliss coursing through my body.
Ian stretches an arm over to the nightstand and pulls out a clear bottle, cracking it open and pouring a dollop of its contents into his right hand. He rubs the wetness around for a few seconds, the sound making my breath catch with anticipation.
After withdrawing his other hand, he fixes me with a sly little smile before leaning down to plant a kiss on my lips while slicking his wet palm along my engorged length, magnifying the delicious sensations in my groin tenfold.
I grunt out as he pulls back, and the noise tightens into a sharp exclamation when he brings his other hand into the mix, stimulating my entire dick all at once with perfect, gentle strokes.
Every single time Ian gets his hands on me, my brain turns to mush. It hasn’t been long since we started getting physical, and he already has the keys to my body. He can have them.
And right when I think I'm already in the depths of this lubed-up massage from heaven, he starts twisting while still pumping mehard. Each hand moves in opposite directions, yanking a strangled, desperate cry out from my throat.
“Oh, you like that, don't you?” His teasing voice floats through the air, gentle and caring like he isn't dragging me through the first and best handjob of my life.
I nod furiously and moan, unable to get any real words out. He’s right—handjobs fucking rule.
Ian says something that I'm too aroused to register, and as soon as the husky sound of his voice hits my eardrums, it's over for me. My body convulses under his touch, and I yell as my release sprays out onto my stomach. He tightens his grip, squeezing every last drop of my orgasm out before leaning down to kiss my tingling lips.
“You're so hot when you come,” he murmurs, pulling back.
My eyes are still closed, but I feel him wiping me clean with something damp. Something unfamiliar washes over me, and I stick my arm out to wrap around Ian’s shoulders, pulling him down onto my chest. He sighs, the quiet, content noise making both of us relax even more, and we exist like that in silence for a few minutes.
“So,” he says, and I blink the static in my brain away. “Now that we can both think straight, I’ve been meaning to ask: do you have plans for spring break?”
“No. Do you?” I try to keep the nerves from showing on my face and making me look like a jerk. Deep down, I’d love to spend the week with Ian, but if he wants to see his parents, go south with friends, or whatever, who am I to stop him?
“Yeah, we should go to my family's cabin in Maine,” he says. “They're working, so it'll just be us.”
“You sure you don't want to go somewhere with your friends?”
Ian waves me off. “I'm sure. I want to chill with you.”
