I drag my fingers through Alexander’s tight, curly hair, then down his cheek. His nipples are dark and hard when I kiss them, and he hums with desire in response, tracing my shoulders.
“How do you want to come, Alexander?” I ask him. He’s leaking fat drops of precum on his abs, and he seems to twitch in response to the lightest touch, so I know he’ll be ready soon.
“I want your fingers in me,” he answers softly, lying on his back.
“Fuck yeah.” I take up position between his legs. “Like this?”
He pushes himself up on his elbows. “But can I put a plug in your… butt? Is that the right way to say it?”
I laugh. Then the humor of it seems to catch Alexander, and he laughs, too. “Shut up, weirdo,” he giggles, then pushes my face away. “You know what I mean.”
I kiss him, grinning. “You can totally put a plug in my butt.”
We fall back into kissing without more words. Alexander knows that I’m mainly a bottom. It’s not like I need anal to get off or anything, far from it. But it’s still sweet to me that he’s thinking of my pleasure, just like I’m thinking of his.
I’m against relationships, but it seems insane to be against this, whatever it is.
I let Alexander pick the toy, and he selects the curved silicone plug. It’s purple and small, but it rubs me in just the right spot. Alexander works it into me, but he goes slow. He even rolls on top for a minute, stretching me with it slowly to drag out my pleasure. It’s so hot that I almost lose myself, but then he slides in the rest of the way, and the toy presses to my prostate, igniting another fire.
Alexander and I kiss. The toy rubs my throbbing spot, demanding I get off. I take my time, though, licking down his chest, over his cock, and to his rim. I work his entrance open with my mouth and one finger, and when I think we’re both about to burst, I push my second finger in, too.
“Here,” Alexander gasps. His face is wrenched, and he twitches hard. Moaning my name, Alexander grabs my cock and pulls me up. He grips himself, too, and while I drive my fingers into his clenching hole, he pumps our cocks together, squeezing me from root to tip.
“Oh fuck,” I grunt. The toy is drumming my spot, and the slick, tight squeeze of Alexander’s hole around my fingers is electric. He clenches and tugs me in. With another moan, Alexander throws his legs around my hips, and I sink into him.
I work his prostate, stroking him over and over, drunk on his scent.
The orgasm blazes. It hits us both at the same time, like a furnace at the core of me that explodes, pure ecstasy ripping through my reality. His tongue is all over my beard as we spray semen, jet after fat jet on our chests and stomachs, and his hole tugs my fingers in with a hot, quick grip.
“Oh my god,” Alexander gasps. His prostate is throbbing against my finger, and as it does, he keeps twitching, aftershocks rolling through him. “Oh god!” he says louder, and another sharp twitch launches a final spurt of white cum from his tip before he loosens again.
We both take in a shuddered breath. Then I buck against him, and we laugh. I manage to pull my toy out, and I roll onto my back so that Alexander can lie on my chest.
“Oh wait,” I say, then reach for the nightstand. “I thought ahead.”
I pull out some wet wipes, which I hand to Alexander. He sits there with a stunned, wide grin on his face. There’s cum smeared all over his chest and abs, white streaks on his tan skin, and I see drops of perspiration at his collarbone. “You got wet wipes for me,” he says, like I just gave him flowers or an advance copy of a novel from his favorite author.
“Well, you know. Sex can be messy.” I chuckle. “I knew you’d appreciate it.”
Alexander throws his arms around me and gives me a kiss. There’s delight in his eyes, and it’s so nice, I almost really do break down and blurt out what my heart demands.
I want to spend the rest of my life making him smile.
This time, before I turn away, Alexander opens his mouth. His breath catches, and I think he’s about to say something. My orgasm brain deliriously tells me it’s the same thing that I’m thinking, that he wants to be with me, too, and it will all be that simple.
Instead, though, the piano music picks up, and we both laugh. “Give me one of those wet wipes,” I tell him. “You’re the one who’s a mess for once, and I want to clean you up.”
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
ALEXANDER
The sun risesover the lake, pink and gray and very moody as it climbs into a cloudy sky. There’s a gentle, brisk breeze off the water, but it’s warm enough that I’m comfortable in just the Fiona Apple T-shirt and my jeans.
It’s not even beach clean day, but I was awake early anyway, so I walk the beach as I try to clear my head.
I’m convinced that Rafael feels what I feel. We’re dancing on the edge of it, but I still can’t say the words.
Seeing him with the other tattoo artists and watching him take on this apprenticeship, something emerges in my friend that I’ve never seen before. He’s always leaned on me, and I’ve leaned on him, too. But tattooing is totally outside of our weird little world, and he’s flourishing at it.
