15. Cameron

Cameron

I t's been nearly an hour since my head hit the pillow, but sleep still eludes me.

This has become a frustrating pattern. Ever since Jagger and I started doing—whatever it is we're doing—our encounters run through my mind on repeat when I'm alone in my room.

Ironically, my thoughts don't veer toward the catastrophic what ifs that probably should be plaguing me. Nor do they skew to the happily ever after fantasy I know we'll never have. They exist solely in the niche I've carved out for them—the one where the things we do have a competitive undertone—so they aren't part of some bigger evolution. They're simply a way to feel good with someone I trust.

On the one hand, I'm proud of myself for not inventing something between us that isn't there. On the other, I'm so fucking horny… It's a wonder I get any sleep at all.

That's especially true tonight.

Jagger spent so much time propped on my leg at the bar, I swear I can still feel his weight. His ass was this close to my dick, and based on the prostate curiosity he's had recently, my dick is convinced it needs to introduce him to that part of his anatomy. So much so, it went and got all territorial when Anna tried to flirt her way into his pants, and I had to hold him to me to hide the evidence of my arousal.

Fortunately, Jagger's already moved on from her, so he didn't think I was cockblocking him. And based on the way his body relaxed after I sent her away, he was grateful I did. But I still can't shake the memory of having him pressed so close to me for most of the evening, and since I don't want to resort to picturing my best friend while I jerk off, it's shaping up to be a long, sleepless night.

Thank God we have a day off practice tomorrow, otherwise I'd be hurting on the field.

I flop onto my back, wincing when that slight shift pulls my boxers taut around my overly sensitive cock. Maybe just one little squeeze will take the edge off?

My hand is halfway to my junk when the bedroom door creaks open. There's just enough light sneaking past the crack in the blinds to make out Jagger's shirtless, sculpted profile as he steps inside and shuts the door.

"Everything okay, Kitcat?" My voice is way too raspy to pretend I don't have sex on my mind. I can only hope he confuses it with sleepiness.

"Can't sleep." He turns the lock on the door, which sets my body on alert.

"Why not?" It's hard to say for sure given the darkness, but I'm pretty certain his dick is just as awake as mine is, and without a conscious effort to do so, I realize my tongue is wetting my lips.

"Got a lot on my mind."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No." He pads to the bed and lifts the sheet so he can climb in next to me, but instead of snuggling into my chest like he usually does, he props his head on one hand and trails his fingers down my abs with the other.

My half-hard cock responds almost instantly, filling at a record pace as he draws a path from my stomach to my groin.

"I was actually hoping you'd be asleep." His fingertip brushes over the tip of my cock, which jolts in response.

"Why's that?" I'm surprised I can form words with my shaft twitching so hard.

"So your dick would be in my mouth when you woke up." He palms me in his grip and gives me a good squeeze, and my hips thrust up, begging for more.

"Jesus," I mutter. "You can't sleep cause you're thinking about sucking me off?"

"You made it look so hot the other day. I need to know what it's like."

Yes. Fuck yes. My cock is yours to play with. Suck me whenever you want.

"You mean you need to know if you can get me off faster than I got you off," I grunt out the only explanation that will give me the release I'm desperate for without the mind fuck to go with it.

"I do hate to lose." Jagger slips a finger under the waistband of my boxers and pulls them down enough to expose half my length. "Can I?"

"I've never turned down a blowie in my life," I say through gritted teeth. "Not gonna start now."

Jagger scoots down my body, dragging my boxers with him until he can pull them off completely. Taking off his own, he nestles between my legs, and for a minute or two he just kneels there, staring at my flagpole. And despite the fact I'm literally laid bare, I'm totally comfortable being the object of his focus .

My best friend has always had this intensity about him. One that makes you feel special when his attention is directed at you, and I'd like to say after well over a decade of friendship it doesn't affect me, but that'd be bullshit. It still gives me a little thrill when our eyes catch because we've shared an inside joke or finished each other's thoughts, which happens a lot. To have him staring at me with lust is new, but it has the same result, making my chest swell as my heartbeat picks up.

It's gotta be the eyes. Even in the dark, staring down my naked body at his, their unique shade pulls me in. Captivates me. And if all he wants to do is stare, I'll happily lie here all night and let him.

That's not all he wants, though. For whatever reason he's decided he needs to do this, and after staring at my cock long enough, he takes it in his fist, jerking it in long, leisurely strokes.

"How do I make this good for you, Camelot?"

"I have expert status after sucking your dick one time?" I slip my arm beneath my head so I can see him better.

"Hardly," he snorts, though I hear the vulnerability he's trying to hide. For all his external bravado, he's still the little boy who was abandoned by his father, and he's desperate to prove his worth. Even to me, even now, though I've never found him lacking. "But if there's something you like you can tell me."

"Pretty sure just having my dick in your mouth will cover it, Kitcat."

"You're that easy to please?" He swipes his thumb over my already beading slit.

"Suck me and find out."

All traces of uncertainty vanish as Jagger accepts my challenge—I know how to get him out of his head—and he lowers with a competitive gleam in his eye. The familiar sight nearly makes me smile in triumph, but it dies on my face as he buries my cock in his hot, wet mouth.

The sudden change in temperature on my sensitive skin has my hips bucking up of their own accord, and only Jagger's fist on my shaft keeps me from ramming it down his throat.

"Fuck," I grunt. "A little warning would be nice. I almost shoved my dick into your stomach."

He pulls back. "And that's bad…why?"

"I'd rather not have to explain to coach that you can't play cause I made you choke on my dick."

"And I'd rather you not hold back." Jagger lowers again and swirls his tongue around my crown once, twice, before sucking it into his mouth and slurping away as he hums in pleasure. I fight to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head, so I don't miss a second of the filthy image he's giving me.

"Just keep your fist on me so I don't accidentally gag you." I shouldn't have to say that, but since my hips are still determined to push my cock all the way into his fucking devastating mouth, I have to be sure. Besides, his sense of self-preservation should kick in before he lets me go too far. But I also know my best friend, and he'll sacrifice himself to give me what he thinks I want.

"I know you think you're being chivalrous or some shit, but don't deny me my fun, Camelot." Jagger licks a path over my slit as his fist slides up to my crown. "I'm gonna suck you so good, you'll forget how to speak. Now lie back and enjoy it."

Stifling a laugh at his bossiness, I do my best to ignore my fear of hurting him and just enjoy the pleasure he has to offer. And once I put those fears out of my mind… holy shit!

Instead of attempting to swallow me whole, Jagger licks and nibbles at my tip, exploring the smooth surface that's similar yet totally foreign to his own. One hand strokes my length softly while the other kneads my balls, all while his lips and tongue map my crown. It's gentle and… affectionate, but still hot as fuck.

Though he's only touching my cock, my entire body is buzzing. Floating. Sparks of pleasure radiate from my groin to my limbs in a rhythm that's both soothing and electric. How those two things are possible at once I don't understand, but it's a unique sort of bliss I've never experienced before.

And I already want more.

My toes curl as he gradually takes more of me into his wet heat, tongue licking along the underside of my shaft as his lips slide over it. My cock is practically vibrating with desire, the need to plunge long and deep into the recesses of his throat almost overpowering, but Jagger's beautiful face looks so peaceful, I'm afraid to thrust lest I ruin the moment.

It's like I simultaneously want to come more than anything and stay here for eternity, letting him worship me with his mouth. And yeah, that sounds a little crazy, but I swear that's what he's doing. His indulgent ministrations are mind-blowing.

As he gets more comfortable, he takes me deeper, alternately bobbing over my shaft in an almost frenzied pace, or pulling back with exaggerated patience, sucking so hard his cheeks hollow. More than once, I have to clench every muscle in my body to stop myself from blowing my load too soon. And while I'd like to pretend that's because of our stupid competition, the reality is that I just want to keep my dick in his mouth as long as possible.

It's selfish, especially since I'm sure his jaw must be starting to ache, but the cliché truth is I have never had a blow job this good in my life. I don't know if it's because he's got a better sense of what will feel good since he's got a cock of his own, or because he found this balance of not being too timid while not rushing things either.

Bottom line, if my body were capable of existing in this euphoric state for eternity, I'm pretty sure that's how long I'd let him suck me. But each time I force myself to hold off, I shorten the window between the next cresting release. And finally, I hit the point of no return. Anymore, and I'll crash over the edge.

I thread my fingers into Jagger's hair, as gently as possible, pulling him off my dick. "Straddle me," I grunt as I guide him up my body.

The crease between his brows tells me he wants to object, but when I wrap my hand around both our lengths all he can do is moan.

His cock is long and hard against mine, and the sight of them pressed together, surrounded by my hand, is nearly my undoing. However, I bite back the urge to let go and start pumping, hoping I can last until Jagger catches up.

It only takes a few strokes before the need to move overcomes him, and Jagger starts thrusting into my fist.

The moonlight glinting off his smooth skin illuminates every ridge of his chiseled body and every flex of carnal muscle. It's almost like he's the star of a black and white noir film where light and shadow tell the story instead of words. Head tipped back in silent ecstasy, abs rippling as he writhes on top of me, he's a work of art. An erotic vision. One that's so enthralling, I have no doubt it will forever be seared into my brain.

And with his sinful body tormenting me beyond my limits, my release overtakes me.

My cum spills in relentless waves, coating my hand so that it slicks effortlessly over Jagger's shaft. The enhanced friction prolongs my orgasm and triggers his. The unbridled sensation of our cocks throbbing in tandem is so riveting, I hold my breath, absorbing every last pulse of his release. I savor every aftershock that ripples through him.

By the time our dicks are spent, my hand is cramped from holding them so tight, and I have to relax my fingers one at a time to free them from my grip. Even then, I can't seem to let them go completely. I just hold them in place, memorizing the way it feels to have them touching. I assume Jagger likes that sensation too, since he doesn't try to pull away until we're both soft. Even then, it's a halfhearted effort at best.

"Damn." He shifts his weight just enough that he can flop to his side on the mattress, one leg still sprawled over mine.

"Mmm."

"At a loss for words. Does that mean I give better head?" Seeing as how I hear exhaustion, not laughter, in his voice, I'd say we're even, but I'll let him have this since I'm too blissed out to keep score.

"How's your jaw?" I ask.

I catch him shifting it back and forth as he gropes around for his shorts. "Stiff. Not sure I'll ever get that fat cock of yours all the way down my throat, but I'm pretty satisfied with my first attempt. You?" He finds them and passes them to me so I can wipe myself off. "Do we need to change the sheets?"

"Think it all landed on me." I finish mopping up and toss the shorts to the floor.

"Good. I don't think I have the energy for laundry right now."

"Me either." Before I can overthink it, I reach over and hook my arm around his chest, hauling him up the bed so his head is on the pillow next to mine, his back to my front. "Night, Kitcat."

Either he's too tired to object, or like me, he figures it's less weird to sleep in my bed than go back to his own.

"Night, Camelot. "

Nose pressed against the back of his neck, I inhale his sweet and spicy bergamot scent, mixed with the lingering aroma of sweat and sex, and I'm out in minutes.