Page 55 of 72 Hours

I smiled back. I always reckoned I gave good head. I hoped he’d return the favour. I needed release, and I needed it from him. I slipped my unencumbered arm around his waist, breathing in the delicious smell of sweaty flesh, fresh cum and Niall.

Unexpectedly, he pushed at me, and I sat back down on the couch with a sharp whoosh of breath. “Hey!”

He stepped forward, far too quickly and gracefully for a guy who’d just shot such a luscious load into my mouth, and he straddled me. He reached down to my lap and started to push my shorts down off my hips. At last, at last! The blood in my body was in a delicious quandary as to whether to rush to my head or places more pragmatic. I think I was suffering from the flushed business, too, and when he looked into my face again, he smiled at me. It was a smile like I remembered from when we first met. It was one of those smiles that creased his usually serious face, and shone behind his eyes, and lit a flame under my body like I was tonight’s a la carte menu.

A smile to fall in love with.

I wriggled my legs and feet about, got the fabric down to one ankle, and then I was naked underneath him. My cock sprang up, bobbing shamelessly, and his gaze fixed on it.

“It’s been....” He paused. He was making one hell of an effort to get the words out, and I felt a tug of sympathy inside me. This was more than I deserved, I reckoned. Way more. “It’s been a long time since I did this, Tanner.” His voice was hoarse. “I never wanted anyone after you.”

I stared at him. Ridiculous really, our bodies no more than a foot apart, but all of our actions in sudden paralysis. “Niall,” I said. “I... Niall.” Fuck, now I was having problems in the speech department. “It’s the same for me. There’s been no one.” I started gabbling nervously. “Dammit, I don’t even have supplies to hand, don’t need them... didn’t need them.”

His eyes softened, and he glanced down at the glistening seed in my hand. “Smart move to hang on to that, then. Because I don’t have anything either.”

I half-laughed. Worried he’d think I was presuming something. Pressuring him. Whatever. “Look, it’s okay, we don’t have to do anything more. I don’t want... you know.”

He shook his head briefly, as if to clear his nerves or maybe to dismiss my ramblings. Then he put his hands on the back of the couch, either side of my shoulders and he leaned down. His knees brushed against my thighs. “Oh, but I do,” he muttered. “I want very much.”

On the count of three, my heart started again.

I grinned. I reached between his legs with my precious little handful of lubrication, and I slipped it around my fingers and up into him again. I stretched him as quickly and as best as I could, afraid I’d rush him like before. My cock twitched awkwardly on my belly, distracting me. It had reached the state where it demanded to be the number one priority of my young life, and I was keen to agree. Niall arched above me, and maybe it was uncomfortable for him, but he was impatient, too, I could tell.

“I’m fine,” he said. “It’s good.” He didn’t exactly push my hand away, but his knees gripped at me, and he started to lower himself down, so I grasped his hips instead. I wanted to ask him if he was sure about this, but I also wanted to be deep inside him. Then my mouth was too dry to argue the point anyway, and next thing I knew, my cock was pressing against warm, slicked skin and easing its way through the initial resistance. One more hitch of my hips and then the head burst hungrily into him.

I gasped. He groaned.

I’d been content with just his hands on my torso, I kept telling myself. After all, I’d never expected to be truly happy again. I’d thought I’d never see him again; I’d built a wall of self-disgust and untenable resentment, and I’d been fucking proud of it. Yeah, I had been a prick. And instead of being left to wallow in a pit of my own making, I’d been given a second chance to talk to him again, and hold him, and now to fuck him.

Incredible.

I held him tightly, and I moved in and out of him as smoothly as I could, as if each stroke were precious. It was just as I remembered, yet something fabulously new. Skin to skin, as we’d always been, as soon as we settled as exclusive lovers. His torso was damp with sweat, and my fingers slipped a little when they rested on the glossy surface of his scar. I felt the pressure of his thighs on me and the warm, crinkle-skinned contrast of his balls against my groin. He was panting, and at some point he started to take control of it all, moving his hips up and down according to his own rhythm. Didn’t bother me in the slightest. I was on my own private expressway, and happily losing my direction all over again.

When I grunted, he dropped his head down to gaze at me, his dark hair falling messily over his forehead. Determined eyes glinted out from underneath it. I watched him rise up on me, then sink back down. A rivulet of sweat trickled from the hollow of his throat and down between his nipples.

“Never been anything like it,” he whispered. “Never been anything like you.”

I sobbed aloud, swear to God I did. I’d never heard him say such a thing in my life. It had been too long for me, too, and what defence did I have against such pleasure? “I’m sorry.” I didn’t even know what I was apologising for. “I’m sorry. I never meant... it’s perfect....”

Incoherence snatched at my throat again, closing it to nothing but guttural sounds. My legs tensed, and my hands gripped him way too fiercely, but I wasn’t really in control of anything anymore. I dragged him down, sitting him on my lap, trying to get deeper and deeper inside him. I panted and I cried out, none too quietly.

He took a hand away from the couch and grabbed the hair at the back of my neck, wrenching my face up to look at him. His lips were pursed, and he looked grimly beautiful. We sort of glared at each other, and then as the climax started to roll its relentless path through my body and my limbs started to shudder, we clung to each other. He dropped forward to press more of his upper body against me, his reawakened erection squeezed between our heaving bodies. I licked at his skin, desperate for his taste, and then stretched my head up, bracing my teeth against his neck.

As he came again, I heard his growl, and felt the warm wetness of his cum against my belly. I don’t remember many more details, or not any that made sense. My climax was wild and messy in coming, and my head throbbed like when I’d been shot, when I felt nothing but sharp sensation and the falling, falling....

My hips lifted up from the couch and my sweaty flesh slapped fiercely against his, and I pumped for an impossibly long time up into him, again and again, never wanting to lose that feeling, never wanting to lose that touch, that intimacy.

Never wanting to lose him.

​​​Chapter 21 – Wednesday 20:05

I guess in the movies the lovers lie post-coitally in bed, heads resting on plump pillows, arms artfully draped over each other, while maybe sharing a cigarette. Their upper bodies shine with stray—and attractively lit—trails of sweat, and the bright white, well-laundered sheet crumples modestly over their legs.

Didn’t I say before, life’s not like the movies? But at that moment, there was no question I preferred my real life.

I was slumped on the couch, and Niall was sitting on the floor at my feet. We were both still naked. His upper body rested against my legs. If he turned his head just that little bit more, he’d be staring directly into my lap and he could probably reach over and take a taste of my dick, those firm lips enclosing the crown, that rough tongue teasing the fragile skin that strained around the shaft....

I was getting hard again. It defied medical science. I thought I’d already died from joy.