19. Cameron

Cameron

" C an we go yet?" Jagger says under his breath before bringing the red solo cup to his lips. Lips that were on mine, upending life as I knew it, less than two hours ago.

I'm still not sure what came over me.

There was the familiar desire to protect him, this time from the tongue-lashing Anna was trying to give him, even if that meant shocking her into silence with that kiss. Except there was more. Underneath that was a yearning to actually kiss him, to see what it'd be like to feel his lips on mine, breathing each other's air.

Despite being inside him less than a week ago, up until this evening I'd managed to compartmentalize sex and friendship. I didn't allow the two to bleed into one another by thinking of our physical interactions as anything other than a much-needed release.

I was tempted to blur the line after we fucked and I was forced to acknowledge that was the best orgasm of my life, but by the next day I'd settled on the perfect explanation—it was the best because it was the first time I'd been with a man , not Jagger specifically.

As long as I could operate under that assumption, I figured I could fuck around and keep my feelings in the platonic category. Then Anna backed him into a corner he could only get out of if we kissed, and I reacted.

I didn't even have time to process what I was doing. I just pulled Jagger to me, found that in addition to helping him out of a bind I wanted that kiss, and took it when he gave me the green light.

As soon as our lips made contact, I knew I'd opened the door to falling in love with my best friend. The way he kissed me, with need and passion and desire, made me want to ignore all reason and let it happen. Yet part of me was still determined not to give in to temptation since—for all intents and purposes—Jagger still falls into the bi-curious category, and he has a potential NFL future that might be hindered by labeling himself as anything other than straight.

Then he went and said he was kissing me for him, not to prove some point, and he's been almost brazen about it. Like he wants this to be more.

I'm almost glad we're at a party instead of at home so I have some time to process before it's just the two of us.

"We've only been here an hour. Finish your beer, then we'll go. Don't slam it." I squeeze his ass in warning, which no one can see since our backs are to the wall as we watch a game of beer pong.

There may be some rumors swirling around about our make-out session earlier this evening—mostly having to do with whether it was real or staged—yet this spot against the wall allows me to keep my hand in the back pocket of his shorts without confirming or denying anything, to myself or anyone else.

Conveniently, having my hand stuffed in there keeps Jagger's waistband taut, so the boner I know my hand is giving him is trapped against his stomach. And I get to keep a solid grip on his ass which, now that I've allowed myself to appreciate it, is exquisite.

Yeah, I said it. Exquisite, since perfect doesn't quite do it justice .

I take another sip of my beer, a big one that'll empty my cup sooner rather than later without chugging, and try to keep a level head about everything that's transpired this evening. It's virtually impossible though. Turns out sucking your best friend's dick is way less intimate than sucking his tongue, so if I'm brave enough to be honest, I'm pretty sure that line I was trying to keep between friends who fuck and falling for my best friend is fading fast.

In fact, it's likely gone altogether.

I'll probably figure out which it is when we're alone and get a chance to talk. I'm guessing that'll come after sex though, because I have a feeling the two of us are way too horned up to do anything other than get naked as soon as we make it home.

I'm actually cool with that. No good can come from a conversation that occurs with a hard dick. It just isn't possible. Better to fuck all the lust out of our systems before we attempt to figure anything out. If we're too spent to get sidetracked, we might actually find some answers.

"Done." Jagger holds out his empty cup, so I finish my drink, let go of his ass, and take both our cups to the trash. Then we navigate through the crowd that parts like the Red Sea, curious eyes searching for clues, until we get out the front door.

"That entire party is speculating about whether we're actually fucking," I tell Jagger as we start the walk toward our house.

"You heard Bennet earlier. Even he thought we've been doing that all along, so they probably did too."

"That really doesn't bother you?" I guess talking before sex is on the agenda since we have at least five more blocks until we're home.

"When it comes to sex, the only thing that bothers me is people thinking I use it as currency like my old man did. I don't care if people speculate about who I'm fucking. "

"But you don't use sex as currency, so no one would ever accuse you of that." The quiet of the night gets louder the farther we get from the party.

"Maybe not, but a one and done policy doesn't always leave the best impression, so I've always been worried that could come back to haunt me like it did tonight." We're quiet for a few blocks before he asks, "Does it bother you that people think we're fucking? It didn't occur to me at the time, but I realize now I outed you without permission when I was trying to get out of hooking up with Anna. That was pretty shitty."

"I didn't think of it that way," I assure him, which is true, although he makes a good point. He did out me, in a way, but it wasn't malicious, and he did it to himself, too. "And I don't care if people think we're fucking. I look pretty good in that scenario."

"What do you mean?" Jagger looks genuinely lost, which is both endearing and comical.

"You're a ten. I'm a seven at best. People will say I scored while you settled."

Jagger stops so abruptly I get four steps away before I realize he isn't next to me. "You okay?"

His normally smooth skin is etched with distress, jaw locked so tight it makes his already angular chin look almost pointy. "You're not a seven, Camelot. You're not even a ten. You're double that. Triple. Hell, you're more like a hundred."

"The scale doesn't go that high." Jagger's indignation makes me chuckle. "But it's all good. I'm totally comfortable being a seven."

"You aren't, though. Not to me. To me you're off the chart." He closes the four steps between us in two and crushes his mouth to mine, kissing me so long and deep I'd swear every moment in my life up until this one has been lived in a fog, and now it's clearing. Colors look sharper. The air smells crisper. My heart beats stronger. It all points to one glaring truth. Jagger doesn't make sex better because he's a man, he makes it better because he's Jagger . And I'm not me without him.

"Take me home, Camelot," he mumbles against my lips. "I need you." His plea is so sweet and sexy I'm half tempted to pull our dicks out right here and stroke them until we both find release. But I figure one make out video is enough for the day, so I clasp his hand in mine and practically run the last two blocks to our house.

Once inside I pin him to the door as soon as it shuts, rutting my body against his as lips and teeth and tongues collide in a tangle of primal lust.

Hands roam over chests and clutch at asses. Fingers sift through hair. Cocks press against one another as hips piston, straining and searching for relief that we won't find clothed, but we chase it anyway out of control and incapable of stopping.

Our exploration is rough. Uninhibited. Driven by a hunger I've never felt before, one that consists of not just desire but a bone deep need for more.

I'd call it beautiful if it weren't so feral, but even our urgency reveals a level of passion I've never known. One I don't think I could feel with anyone else.

My lips travel from Jagger's mouth to his jaw to his neck, kissing and licking and tasting his soft skin along the way.

"Need your dick," he rasps as sure fingers find the button on my shorts.

"No dicks outside the bedroom, remember?" I suck on the place where his neck meets his collarbone.

"Bed," he grunts. "Now."

Since I can't separate my body from his, I grab him around the thigh and haul him up, loving how he wraps his legs around my waist without any encouragement. I barely move us off the door before realizing I can feel his cock rubbing against mine with each step, a friction that only intensifies as I walk us up the stairs. By the time I get to the top, I'm damn near delirious with longing, my dick a steel pipe that I'm starting to realize is my baseline when it comes to Jagger.

"My room," he pants as he licks along my jaw. "My bed's quieter."

I manage to kick the door shut as I walk us inside, stopping only when my knees hit the mattress and we collapse on the bed in a heap.

"Now can I take your dick out? Please?" I've never been a fan of begging—the whiny, high-pitched kind, anyway—but the husky, borderline ravenous tone Jagger uses has said dick twitching behind my zipper.

"Take ‘em both out." I roll us to our sides, giving Jagger the space to play with our cocks while my hands fondle his hair, his face, his ass—everything they can find.

We're so close, touching from head to chest to toe, I barely have room to roll my hips. But I do, rocking them forward, fucking my cock into his hand right along his as my tongue spears into his mouth.

Every nerve is on fire, lit up like a circuit board, and still I want more. More touching, more tasting, just… more .

I feel so alive, I wonder if I'm actually dead. Dead and gone to Heaven, since nothing on Earth has ever felt this good. Or this right.

"I still want a turn with your ass," Jagger groans as his fist slides over our cocks. "But right now, I really wanna ride you."

Giving Jagger my ass is high on the priority list, but having him ride me… Sign me the fuck up.

"Get the lube," I tell him.

He grabs the bottle from his nightstand and settles between my legs when I roll to my back. Like a starving man getting ready for a meal, he rubs his hands together, warming the liquid. Then he takes me in his hands, sliding them up my length one after the other from root to tip, getting me nice and slick.

Jagger's hooded green eyes stare at my body with lust. Lips, pink and puffy from our kisses, slightly parted in awe. His big, strong hands roaming over my cock with firm, steady strokes. It's pure bliss.

"Jesus, Cam. I'm sorta wondering how you fit the first time," he says as works me.

That jolts me back to Earth. "We've gotta prep you." I move to sit up, but he pushes me back.

"I've got it." He pumps me with one hand while using the other to work himself open, and the way his cock twitches when he gets a finger in there has my mouth watering. Literally watering.

I swallow thickly, mentally preparing myself to be enveloped by his tight hole. It caught me off guard the last time—I nearly blew on contact from the intensity of the pressure—and I don't want to get that close to the edge again. Not until he's had time to take what he wants from me.

When he feels ready Jagger crawls up my body until he's settled over my waist. Holding my dick at attention with one hand, he lines me up and starts to sink onto me. His brows pull together as his mouth fights a grimace, but when I tell him to stop, he gives me a curt headshake.

"Give it a second. It only stings for a second, then it feels incredible."

I hold utterly still, trying to focus on his face instead of the vise-like grip of his channel. It's no easier to hold back the second time around, and I have to close my eyes and count backward from a hundred to stave off the orgasm that really, really, wants to unleash.

As Jagger's ass comes to rest on my pelvis, we both freeze, each of us taking a breather before we attempt to move. I hate that his pause is to get used to me, but I'm grateful for the time to get my dick under control before he starts to use it. And when he does finally move… Lights shine from above, angels sing, all that shit. Times a million.

"Fuck, I didn't think you'd be so tight the second time around," I groan.

"I didn't think you'd be bigger."

"I'm not."

"Feels like you are." Jagger circles his hips, and his sexy obliques say hello.

"It's gotta be the angle. Want to move?"

"Hell no. I want to ride you so hard you see fucking stars."

"Do your worst." I clasp his thighs in my hands, like handles, and hold on.

He starts slowly, lifting and lowering in measured strokes as we both learn where our pleasure points are in this position. Once he figures that out, he doesn't hold back, and he takes my senses on a roller coaster ride to nirvana.

Jagger works hard on his body, and I've always admired the results. But watching him use it to exercise and watching him use it to fuck are two vastly different things. One stimulates the mind in the sense that you're looking at it from an analytical lens, or a roadmap you can follow to achieve the same results. The other stimulates the blood, making your body feel hot and tingly and carnal.

He's a fucking vision. The way his head falls back, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. Or how his abs ripple when he undulates his hips. And the sexy ‘V' of his transverse abdominis, pointing toward the long, thick cock that smacks my stomach each time he bottoms out on my dick.

I used to love that about sleeping with women–bouncing tits. I suppose I might still enjoy that view since I think it's the motion itself that gets me excited instead of the actual body part, like the more things move the better the sex. But Jagger's cock slamming onto my stomach is hands down the hottest thing I've ever experienced since I can see and feel and hear it happening.

Even better than that, his precum is dribbling onto my stomach each time his dick smacks it, so besides this symphony of sex sounds echoing through the room, there's this damp spot on my abs that keeps growing as he gets closer to his release.

And don't even get me started on where my own dick ranks in this carnal display. It's probably a good thing I can't see it spearing into Jagger's tight hole because feeling and seeing it stretch around me would probably send me over the edge long before Jagger's found his satisfaction.

"Oh shit," Jagger pants as he rides me.

"What?"

"I just realized I can feel your balls on mine." He bottoms out and holds still, reaching behind him and between my legs to take us both in hand. And he's right, in this position our nuts are right next to each other, and he can fit them all in his grip.

He rolls them around as he swivels his hips, and while it feels amazing, it's sort of like intermission from the main event, and I don't think this will get me to the finale. Still, I don't want him to move his hand since what he's doing feels so good. So, I pull him down while I thrust up, and the cry that comes out of his mouth is fucking celestial.

"Holy fucking fuck. My whole body spazzed so hard I think it went numb for a second. Do that again."

I use a little more strength this time, and I feel his ass clench around me right before the hand holding our balls seems to lose its grip slightly, like a shockwave rolls through him, short-circuiting his muscles .

"If my prostate has a prostate, you just found it." His chest heaves as he struggles to get those words out, and I find a sudden burst of energy.

Let's see who forgets their name now.

Like a man possessed, I piston my hips upward as I pull Jagger down, feeling him quake all around me as I bury myself in his hole. His cries turn to shouts, turn to breathless moans, as I fuck into him, forcing another shockwave through his body before the preceding one can fade.

Sweat pools on my brow, my stomach, my groin, but I don't slow. I don't stop thrusting until his mouth opens on a silent scream, his cum covers my chest, and his wide, astonished eyes find mine.

His shock triggers my own release, and my cock flutters inside him, pulse after pulse, filling him until he can't hold any more and it spills out around us. Still, I hold him to me, buried inside, and not ready to sever the connection.

"Holy fuck, Cam. Holy fuck." The hand that was still holding our balls releases them and hovers over his dick. "That just… I just… Holy fuck."

I let go of his thigh, which will probably bruise given how hard I was clutching it, and take Jagger's hand in mine, threading our fingers together. "You okay?"

"Am I okay? I'm… I mean… I wasn't touching my dick. Were you?"

"No."

"I didn't think so. That really happened, then? I came… untouched ?"

"Yeah, Kitcat. That really happened."

He flops forward, a motion that causes my already softening cock to slide out of his body, and he lies on top of me, nose buried against my neck. I wrap one arm around his back, holding him to me, and the other teases the dark strands of his hair.

"It's a good thing everyone else is at the party, otherwise I'm sure we'd get bitched at for being just as loud as Liam and Cruz," I say softly.

"I don't know how they do it." Jagger's head shifts slightly, like he's shaking it. "I'm pretty sure I didn't have any control of my body just then. Volume included. Was I too loud?"

"I like you loud." I want so badly to kiss the top of his head, but making out is one thing, tender kisses another. So, I limit myself to stroking his hair. For a while, we both seem content to linger together, chest to chest, in comfortable silence, but despite wanting this moment to last, I think we're finally sated enough to talk without distractions.

"Did you mean what you said earlier? About not going back to straight sex?" I can't make my voice louder than a whisper since I'm not sure what I want the answer to be, I only know it will probably dictate what happens next.

Jagger's chest presses against mine as he inhales. "Maybe?"

"You said that on a whim?" That wouldn't surprise me. Jagger's got this enthusiasm that often leads to him leaping before he looks.

"I said it because it felt right at the time."

"And now?"

I feel the brief, soft press of his lips on my neck. "Now, I think it might be true."

"Are you coming out as bi, now?" My restless fingers sift through his hair as I try to suppress a shiver from his innocent kiss.

"I'm not sure what I am. I tried the gay porn thing, and sex between guys is hot. Dicks are hot. But I don't know if I'm bi. I haven't looked at anyone and thought to myself I wanted to fuck them. Except you. And I'm not gonna make some big announcement about that, unless you want me to. I'm just gonna be me."

"Fair enough."

"What about you?" He props himself up on an elbow to see my face.

"What about me?"

"Are you gonna make an announcement?"

"Why would I? I don't have the following you do, and I'm not looking to go pro, so I doubt anyone cares."

"First, you aren't nearly as curious enough about my dick as you should've been considering you've liked ‘em for years, now you aren't gonna tell everyone you're dating me?" His eyes have his trademark mischievous glint to them, but since they're staring into mine it's impossible to miss the uncertainty he's trying to downplay.

"Am I dating you, Kitcat?"

He tries to smirk, although it's not nearly as self-assured as it usually is. "I mean, the one and done rule clearly doesn't apply to you, and I'm lying in a puddle of my jizz that's gathered between your abs, so…" he trails off.

"You want to be my boyfriend, Kitcat?"

His beautiful emerald eyes peer up at me from under his thick lashes. "I think I have been for years, I just didn't know it until you kissed me."

On the surface, that should be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, but when I think of all the memories between us, and the fact that neither of us have even attempted to have a relationship other than the one we have with each other, I think he's right.

"Yeah, I didn't realize it until then either. And I will gladly tell everyone I'm dating you, but I have one request first."

"What?" He cocks his head to the side .

"Can I have a new nickname?" The tentative smile he's been wearing for the past few minutes falters, so I rush to explain. "You never use it in front of anyone anyway, or you didn't until tonight, and if I'm gonna have a nickname I want you to use it all the time."

I don't add that I hate the name Camelot since I know he thinks it's brilliant.

"I don't have another one for you, though," he says.

"You don't have to come up with it now."

"Good, cause all I've got now is lover and I'd have to kick my own ass if I ever called you that." His fingers tease the valley between my pecs as he worries his plump bottom lip. "Fine, I'll think on it, if it means that much to you."

"Thank you."

"You know what would help me think, though?" He twirls a finger around my nipple.

"I'm afraid to ask."

"If you clean off my dick with your tongue," he continues like I didn't say anything at all. "That would get the blood flowing."

"In the wrong direction," I snort.

"Hey, it worked for the anatomy test. I aced that shit, and my dick was in your mouth right before then, so there's precedent."

I shift him off me and scoot down the bed. "This better earn me an epic nickname, fucker."