“You know, so you can change clothes.”
I narrowed my eyes but grinned. “Always my playboy.”
TheBrandthouseholdwasan experience unlike any other. Raised voices were not uncommon, yet no one was angry. They laughed, they teased, and no one was safe. Not the youngest, May, or the patriarch, Ben. Not even me, as a guest.
After I changed into a casual pair of slacks and a sweater, Asher and I joined the family for meatball subs and homemade french fries. They made jokes about my clothes, and Lila, with the sincerest voice, asked if I was a movie star.
No one brought up social standings or scandals. Laughter happened so often from one person or another, or several, it was near constant. Even from me. Asher’s entire family had this ability to pull a smile from me, apparently. I’d never allowed myself to find happiness like this before, never thought it possible. Asher had opened this door, not only the closet door, but another one, one that reminded me to live.
After dinner, we helped Patty finish costumes for a duck hunt tradition. Something like flag football, but they did it dressed as ducks for the hunting season currently underway in the state. We stayed in the living room with Asher’s parents, Nathan, andStacia while we chatted and finished minor sewing tasks.
Patty and Ben weren’t much older than me. A fact I tried very hard to forget. Patty shared stories about Asher when he was a kid and then more when their family grew overnight. Asher never got embarrassed when his mother shared the silly things he did. He laughed along with everyone as if the stories were about someone else.
The comfort they had around each other reminded me of what I shared with Mary and Paul. Before tonight, I wouldn’t have said I was close with my siblings, but I was, in fact. We had this bond between us, mostly due to how we were raised and by whom, but it was a bond I shouldn’t take for granted.
Near midnight, the chores were done, and the boisterous conversation was exchanged for yawns. We said our good nights and headed upstairs. Surprisingly, Asher and I were staying in his room together. We were adults, but I’d wrongfully assumed his parents might not have seen it that way.
We changed into pajamas Asher insisted on since we would no doubt be woken in the morning by May. I didn’t mind. But when we were under the covers and his delectable body was next to mine, I couldn’t stop my hands from seeking his skin. I pushed his cotton pants to his thighs and slotted our erections together for a few strokes before rolling him to his back.
“Luke,” Asher whispered as I kissed down his throat and palmed his bare ass.
“Can you stay quiet?” I asked.
“Maybe?”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
In his childhood room, the same bed he’d probably masturbated in a hundred times or more, I kissed down his torso while stroking the backs of his thighs to tease him. God, I loved touching him, breathing him, tasting him.
When I reached his dick, I kissed the damp tip, then licked and probed his slit. Asher whimpered, then slammed a pillow over his face.
I didn’t go slowly or playfully. I sucked him down, pulled on his balls, and worked a wet finger inside him. Asher came surprisingly quickly and quietly.
Asher’s hard frame and thin curves had my hands burning to sculpt every line. His natural musk, the cool fragrance of deodorant, and the faint cookie scent of his hair made me hungry for more. The way he shivered when I tasted him, the little moans he fed my ego, and the way his chest heaved in time with my rapid pulse drove me wild.
I hugged his hips, grinning like a fool as he absently toyed with my hair.
“Let me suck you,” he whispered, having removed the pillow at some point.
“You don’t have to.” I was as hard as a steel pike, and my dick jerked to let me know he completely disagreed.
“Do you have any idea how many times I jerked off in this bed with only wild fantasies to get me going? Thirteen-year-old me would come on the spot if he knew one day I’d have a fuck-hot man in this bed with me.”
“How can I say no to that?”
“I need to do this like you wouldn’t believe,” he begged, then demanded, “Get up here, like the good boy you are.”
With a last kiss to his soft cock, I climbed over him, leaning heavily on his headboard, and fed him my dick. I was so turned on by everything. Being sneaky in his room, the thrill of the blow job I’d just given him, and the deepening of the Asher-shaped indent on my soul had me wanting to come nearly as quickly as he had.
Asher let me fuck his mouth and tease his throat. He squeezed my legs and hips, then moved to grip my ass cheekstightly. When his fingers strayed to my crease, I hummed in encouragement, replaying the times he’d fucked me, tunneled deep, had me crying out his name, and begging for more, harder, faster, deeper.
Fuck!
I shot off like a cannon at the first swipe of his fingertip, barely restraining a shout of euphoria. Asher sucked me and swallowed until I forced myself to move off him for my sanity’s sake. We adjusted our pajamas and settled in bed, him in my arms, holding each other until we fell asleep.
Just as he’d said, May woke us early the next morning with a whispered, “Bubba?”
We’d moved in the night. I was on my back with Asher’s butt smushed against my hip and his face toward the edge of the bed.
