18
Kit
We wereboth still damp when Andy pushed me back onto the mattress in my childhood bedroom, kissing me like it was the most exciting thing in the world for him, our skin sticking and sliding against each other as our bodies got increasingly tangled together.
Oh, but this was the perfect end to a perfect day.
“Andy,” I murmured, fingers toying with his hair, free hand roaming his skin, seeking out sensitive places I hadn’t found yet. There was still so much to learn about him, and I wanted to know all of it.
“Kit,” Andy said, smiling against my lips. “Love it when you say my name.”
He kissed me before I could say it again for him, but now that I knew he liked it, I’d probably wear it out.
We were both wine-tipsy and relaxed from a long, warm bath, and neither of us were in any kind of rush. Instead, we took our time, hands and lips roaming, sighs and moans and laughter bouncing between us.
“You wanna tell your dick to stop poking me?” Andy teased.
“It likes you,” I countered. “Very much.”
He chuckled, shifting his hips so I could feel how hard he was, too, leaving a sticky trail of precome on my belly.
I’d never felt so attractive in my life.
“What a coincidence,” Andy said. “Mine likes you, too.”
“So glad they can be friends.” I laughed, pulling him in to indulge in another long, slow kiss, tasting the last remnants of wine in his mouth. My hands roamed lazily again, teasing here, squeezing there, gentle and exploratory.
Things were different this time.
“Andy,” I murmured, unwilling to stray far from his lips. “Would it be all right if… that is, umm. I, uh… I’d like to, umm, feel you.” I paused to clear my throat. “Inside me?”
Andy chuckled, which I supposed I deserved.
“You done that before?” he asked.
“I’m not a virgin,” I said, indignant. “I’m just bloody awkward.”
Andy snorted again, leaning in for another kiss, smoothing ruffled feathers with lips and tongue and just a hint of teeth.
“No argument here,” Andy said, grinning at me. “Still like you anyway.”
He reached for my bedside table, and I followed his hand just in time to see him plucking a condom wrapper from a fresh, just-opened box, and curling his free fingers around a new tube of lubricant.
I hadn’t seen him buy them, let alone leave them in here, but he’d clearly had this all planned out.
My stomach tightened in anticipation.
“Relax,” Andy said, as though he’d felt it. Maybe he had, maybe hecouldfeel that sort of thing.
Maybe he’d just known me for years and was aware by now that my nerves were wobbly at the best of times.
“I’m not nervous,” I promised. “I trust you.”
“Youcantrust me,” Andy said. “I wouldn’t hurt you for anything.”
He’d already proven that. Not only on this trip, but always, from the moment we’d met. He’d been the best and truest friend I’d ever had.
The fact that the sex was also incredibly satisfying made me feel like the luckiest man in the world.
