“Respectfully,” I clarify after his speech earlier.
His lips twitch into a smile, transforming his expression into the amused one I’m so used to seeing on him. “You’re giving me shit right now, really?”
I shrug. “You’re sure about this?”
“I’m sure about you,” he counters. “So yes.”
Not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, I nod and head toward Oakley’s room. I can hear his exhale as I turn the corner into the hall, but he doesn’t immediately follow. I give him time as I step into his familiar bedroom, the walls a light blue, some sun slanting in through the window but the angle such that it’s dimmer in here than most of the rest of the house.
Dropping my pants feels natural. How many times have I changed around Oakley, after all? My underwear and socks quickly follow, and I shuffle all the articles of clothing off to the side of the room, where they’ll be out of the way. I unbutton my shirt next, my hands calm, my mind feeling the same as I drop the material on the pile.
Naked, I kneel in front of Oakley’s bed, spread my knees wide, and lean my chest against his mattress.
Footsteps approach from behind me before Oakley inhales a sharp breath, a thump following like maybe his hand catching the wooden doorframe. A series of quiet curses leaves his lips, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s seeing.
A naked man waiting at the side of his bed? Someone to enjoy a brief moment of pleasure with? His friend?
I keep my head rested on my arms, my heart thumping as I wait for him to either come closer or decide this isn’t what he wants after all. He steps further into the room, a drawer opening off to my right. The rustle of clothing follows, and I realize he’s getting undressed.
A frisson of excitement and anticipation rolls through me, and I let out a slow breath.
Oakley kneels behind me, settling between my legs, his proximity impossible to miss. For a moment, I feel charged, the air between us thick like those storms that hit in the fall. When static causes your hair to stand on end and you can practically hear the impending thunder.
Oakley lets out a breath that floats over my shoulder like wind, his voice coming husky. “Do you wanna be touched?”
“Isn’t that a given?”
His laugh is a short thing. “What I mean is… Can I touch you in places other than your dick and asshole?”
“Do what you want with me, Oak.”
“Jesus.”
A warm hand skates down between my shoulder blades, pressure gentle along my spine. I shiver at the feel of callused fingertips dragging over my skin, Oakley’s touch rougher than the one I experienced before him. Those fingertips travel upwards again, mapping one shoulder and then the next.
This time, when they travel downwards, they don’t stop at the base of my spine. Two hands glide over my ass cheeks, down the backs of my thighs, up again. Around my hips, to my lower abdomen, pausing at the base of my cock.
“You’re not hard,” Oakley observes, one hand ringing me as the other skates down the front of my thigh.
“I’ll get hard when you touch me,” I assure him.
As if testing that theory, Oakley works the base of my dick. An exhale puffs from my lungs, my body reacting as his hand slides over me, the dry touch gentle. The tightening in my groin is a familiar pressure, but the sensation of Oakley’s hand is entirely new. He strokes me more firmly as I harden, his thumb rolling over the top of my dick in a caress that has me grunting.
“Feel good?” he checks.
“Horrible,” I deadpan.
Oakley squeezes my dick lightly in reprimand, his touch sliding back over my hip again, fingers trailing down between my ass cheeks. “You’ll be honest if anything feels wrong?”
“I will,” I promise. “But it doesn’t.”
That seems to reassure him because I hear the pop of a lube cap. Wet fingers brush over my hole, and I ease back against them, my eyes slipping shut. Apart from my own fingers, it’s beensolong since I’ve had this. Two years since the last time I had sex? Longer? I can’t even remember, and the anticipation now is lightning in my veins, no longer a low rumble of thunder.
“Oak,” I plead, not wanting teasing right now.
He curses again, a finger pressing inside of me.
I roll my face into the cradle of my arms, muffling my moan against Oakley’s comforter.This. This has always been my favorite part about sex. Having something inside of me. Laura only ever used the strap-on, nothing else. And even that wasn’t often. Oakley’s finger is so much warmer, so much morereal.
