“Andy and Ethan are leaving,” Colby whispers, seemingly ashamed for interrupting us. I shoot him a shaky smile to let him know the interruption is fine.
Keeping Trevor’s hand tight inside my own, I lead us outside to watch my sister drive off with her new husband. Andy gives me a sweaty, and too-tight hug. Kissing her cheek, I give her the same wink that used to make her giggle as a toddler. But she doesn’t giggle, she just shakes her head at me before disappearing into the badly decorated car. The headlights disappear down the dirt road and a weird pang of loss reverberates through me.
“Take me home?” Trevor asks quietly, fingers still gently holding on to mine.
“Anything you want, sweetheart.”
The drive back to the house is silent. I keep Trevor’s hand in mine the entire way, resting our joined hands against my thigh. Every now and then I swipe my thumb against his knuckles, and Trevor lets out a soft sigh at the sweeping touch. I wonder how often he’s touched just for the sake of being touched. Do peoplemake him feel pleasure because his pleasure means more to them than their own? I doubt it.
In some unspoken agreement, Trevor quietly follows me to my room once we’re back home. Tenderly cupping his face in my palms, I press a lingering kiss on his forehead as he grabs my wrists so tight that ripples of pain course through me. I trail kisses down his face, finally nudging his chin with my nose so he tips his head back, giving me better access to the beautiful expanse of his throat.
And that’s the way it goes. Finding and kissing every inch of skin I can will be my night's mission. Slowly, I unbutton his dress shirt, and watch as it falls to the floor in a puddle of expensive fabric. Trevor’s chest heaves once he’s down to just his boxers. Bare to me, every glorious inch of perfect skin for me.
“Take a shower with me?”
Trevor blinks syrupy slow at me, caught in the haze of desire. “Is sex on the table now?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Follow my lead.”
“Alright,” Trevor whispers, a little unsure, with a hint of color on his cheeks.
When I go to take my clothes off, Trevor pauses me with a hand on my stomach. His stormy eyes freeze me. My heart does somersaults in my chest as I watch him carefully undress me, cautiously, like he’s afraid to cross some unknown line. Once I’m down to my underwear, his eyes take me in, before trailing slowly back up to meet my gaze. The moment is fraught with tension, sizzling with heat that I need to dial down to survive the night I have planned so carefully in my head.
I guide him into the bathroom with a hand on his naked back, his skin burning hot against my own. Steam fills the room quickly, ratcheting up the heat rolling from us both in waves.
“Naked or with underwear on?” I ask him softly, trying to give him the upper hand.
Trevor aims a wry smile my way, but it doesn’t quite reach his baby blues. “We can be naked without jumping one another, right?”
“I think so.”
Slipping out of our underwear, we keep our eyes firmly above shoulder level like we’re in the locker room. The shower is perfunctory. We take turns under the water, washing our hair, then finally our bodies. Afterwards, I wrap a towel around his shoulders with another kiss to his forehead. His wet hair hangs around his shoulders, with a few knots, so I gently run my fingers through the fine golden strands. His eyes fall closed at my touch, lips tilting up slightly at my devoted attention.
My feet follow Trevor to the bedroom of their own accord. He drops the towel, leaving him naked for my viewing. He’s beautiful, just miles of flawless skin, and an absolutely wicked smirk that leaves me all sorts of breathless. With a grin so wide my cheeks ache, I lift him up, and toss him onto the bed. A breathless little laugh leaves him as I tuck us under the pile of quilts. I pull him to me, bare skin against bare skin, then sweetly tangle my fingers in his damp hair.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Pleasekiss me,” Trevor begs, every word filled with intent.
Begging is always my greatest undoing. I press my lips to his gently at first, learning the weight of his lips, the softness of his mouth. His fingers bite into my back as he inches just a bit closer to me, close enough I can feel his hard cock against my thigh. Fucking him would be amazing, but it’s not my mission for the night. I want to show him what I want, what I need, and that’s simply just to kiss him, to hold him through the night. I’m a simple man.
Trevor whimpers into my mouth as I trail my fingers over his overheated skin. A deep shiver wracks his body when I softly dance my fingers right back up the slight curve of his spine.I keep up the swirling dance of my fingers during the slow slide of our lips. Softly flicking my tongue against his lips, he easily opens up for me. I reach up to pinch his chin, angling his head to deepen the kiss so I can taste all of him. He tastes like wedding cake and beer and something else that’s entirely Trevor. Something spicy, but sweet at the same time.
I soften the kiss again, until our lips are just barely grazing each other. A gentle press of my mouth to his own. Trevor’s an amazing kisser. Just the right amount of tongue, right amount of tease, the right amount of everything. Time loses all meaning during our endless kiss. The kiss continues even as he rolls on top of me, strong thighs bracketing my waist, his hands gripping the headboard so tight that his knuckles turn white.
He pulls away from my mouth with trembling thighs and I grip them tight, letting my thumb dip into the curve of his abdominal muscles. His skin is perfectly soft under my hands. Resting his forehead against mine he releases a slightly panicked laugh.
“You’re gonna kill me,” Trevor whispers.
His words carry an odd sense of relief.
I lean up to kiss him again. “Nah. Want to stop and go to bed? Kiss some more? Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
Trevor doesn’t answer with words, instead he just presses his sweet mouth back to mine. Chest to chest, his heartbeat wild against my own. Our hard cocks slide together, the friction delicious and almost unbearable. Shocks of pleasure race down my spine, urging me to seek relief.
But we both ignore our desire because that’s not the focus of our kisses. The focus is the sweet molasses-slow intensity of kissing someone just to kiss them. No rush, no urgency, just lips sliding against lips. Only the tender onslaught of want and need and the decadent knowledge that, even if only for a moment, our mouths belong to one another.
His kiss grows softer as he rests heavier against me, half asleep from our lazy kissing. Pulling away, I tenderly rain kisses over his cheeks, his forehead, his closed eyes. Rolling him over, I pull him against my side until his head is safely tucked into the crook of my neck, his thigh thrown haphazardly over my hip.
