Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Lennox

Yes .

I want to.

Yes, yes. Holy fuck, yes.

"Yes." I barely get it out of my throat.

He takes a breath, and then slowly moves his thumb, stroking over the soft silicone, and the base presses against my t-dick—my dick. My mouth opens, my blood rushing right in the spot where he'd pushed on my artery earlier. My eyes roll back, my entire body arching.

His pupils flare. "Fuck, that's hot , Lenn."

I swallow, shaking my head, trying to clasp into reality. "That's not…" Not what? "Not anything."

Except the way he's touching me… I look down, and a rush of warmth nearly swallows all of me. A rush of rightness . That's the only way I can describe it. When it feels like everything slips into the right place. It's relief and tension and euphoria. It's a snap of certainty and completeness, and I want it.

I want it so fucking much.

He rolls his thumb over my packer again, and we both moan, both staring at where he's touching me.

"Oh fuck," he breathes. "It doesn't seem like it's not anything."

Another stroke and I'm shaking, that pressure spot in my thigh still pulsing.

"It's…" I struggle with words. "It's a packer. It's not actually me."

Reed's eyes move up to my face, his lips wet, his chest flushing. "I don't know. It seems… like it's part of you right now." He lets out a shaky breath. "Fuck, Lenn. I've never…"

He rubs this thumb again and then moves his hand, fully cupping me, squeezing. " Jesus . This is what attraction feels like."

My eyes roll back, my pelvis moving with him. It's not just the way the packer presses against my dick—the drive is something else. The way that he's touching me, the way that he's reacting. His cock is hard against my thigh, warmth rolling off his skin, that flush across his chest deepening. His lips are pink as his tongue grazes the bottom one. He rubs me, cups me, squeezes me.

I blink, trying to sort my thoughts. Trying to hold on to any sense of normalcy because I just want to sink into this. I just want to let go.

"There's something important I…" I push out. I can't even finish the sentence.

His hand pauses, and then he rests it on my thigh as he leans back. "What?"

"I have a t-dick," I say. "Bottom growth."

"Okay." His eyes latch to mine, entirely present with me.

"And…" I lick my lips, finally able to think without him rubbing me like that. "It's important to me that it's referred to as a dick, and not anything else."

He nods, his palms warm on my thighs. "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"Yeah, I mean…" I shake my head. "If you ever want to stop—stop anything—then just say."

"That goes for both of us." He's so intent on me. "All the time, right?"

"Yes."

His eyes move down to my mouth. "I want to kiss you."

My chest expands as I pull in a slow breath. "Me too."

Fuck, we do. We just keep kissing. Deep and soft, tongues moving slowly. His arms wrap around me, and we shift to lying, not breaking our kisses until his mouth moves to my neck, then down to my collarbone, before sucking at the base of my throat. His deep moan reverberates against me.

Otherwise, my room feels silent. It's just the sound of our kisses, our breath, and my pulse echoing in my ears. After what feels like at least twenty minutes, he pushes up to his hands, hovering over the top of me. His eyes slide down my throat, to my chest, then my stomach. His mouth opens, a deep groan coming out.

"Fuck, Lennox." He licks his lips, then dips, bending his elbows, kissing down until he's sucking on my nipple. I arch underneath him.

My hands find his shoulders, and I rub down his back as far as I can reach, my hands flat against him. He groans, moving with me. He plays his tongue around my nipples, and we both react.

"Fuck," he whispers before he moves lower, his cock grazing along my leg, and he moans as I shift to rub against it, his mouth opening, his hips moving with me. We keep moving together, like this wave that keeps rolling and receding. He kisses down, over the top of my scars to my navel until his chin is brushing my packer, his hands propped on either side of me, grinding his dick along the inside of my knee.

Then his mouth closes over where my packer is under my jeans.

"Holy shit ." My breath sticks in my lungs, my eyes unfocusing. I'm not fully sure if this is reality. I'm not fully sure that it can be. That this feeling can actually exist.

He groans, his teeth closing around my zipper, his lips moving, wetting my jeans.

I could come. Right now, without him even unzipping me. With the way he looks, the way he's touching me, that heated warmth ebbing up from everywhere , over my shoulders and up the back of my neck to my scalp. It's not localized to where he mouths my packer, one hand reaching up to slide along my sternum to clasp the base of my neck.

Holy fuck, holy fuck .

My pelvis presses up, trying to get more friction, my stomach tightens, my toes curl.

"Unzip me," I whisper.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I stiffen. I get a shot of worry. Of fear. That he won't understand. That we're flinging ourselves forward, and it might be too much, and we can't go back.

But then he looks up at me, eyes hooding, and his hand is shaking as it leaves my throat to tug my button open. He peels down my zipper.

And I remember something. He's who I'm supposed to be kissing .

I believe that.

He's staring, lips reddened and parting with a groan when I raise my thighs so he can tug down my jeans. He takes a ragged breath, then bends to lick along the waistband of my boxer briefs. He sucks my packer through the fabric, his fingers at the elastic.

He pulls off to meet my eyes. And in that hazy world, he's the only thing that's clear.

"Can I…" He licks his swollen lips.

I swallow, then nod. "The packer's in a compartment in my boxer briefs."

"Do you have different ones?"

"Packers? Yeah."

He pulls in a shaky breath. "I want to see them all."

I stare at him for a long moment. "You do?"

" Yes ."

I sit up, grab his jaw, and pull him back on top of me. He hovers over me, his cock thick and hanging between us.

I slide a hand down his back to the narrow part of his waist, then dip my fingertips under his waistband, digging into the top of his ass.

"You first," I say.

He doesn't pause. "Fuck, yes. I'm so cramped." He rises back to his knees, planted on either side of mine, then he pushes down his joggers. The elastic gets caught on his dick, and he tugs it over the top. He springs out, emitting a relieved groan.

He's kneeled over the top of me, his cock swollen and reaching up over tightened abs in sleek lines, dark tattoos running up one arm and over his shoulder and pec, hat backwards over those brown eyes of his, and that angled jaw…

"Holy fuck," I whisper. "You're beautiful."

Like artwork.

Like the impossible.

Like something so stunningly amazing that it's hard to believe it exists.

My fingers itch—to touch, to stroke, to draw .

I want to sketch him. So much that I can nearly feel the ghost of a pencil in my hand.

But I blow out a breath and focus on right here, right now. I reach a trembling hand out and grip his cock, stroking my hand along his shaft. He stays on his knees over the top of me, his joggers stretched tight, pushing down on my boxers, trapping my packer hard against me. His head rolls back as he groans, his abs defining even more, his eyes squeezing shut. He quivers as I roll a thumb over the head of his cock.

"Fuck," he breathes. "I'm not gonna last."

"Then don't." I stroke him steadily. "Come on me."

His eyes flash open, a shock of surprise in them. "You'd want that?"

I nearly laugh. "Of course." How could I not ? I take my hand off to spit in it and then fist him again. "Come on me. Or do you want lube instead?"

"Ohh fuck, fuck…" He drives into my hand, jaw tightening as he looks down at where I'm stroking him. "This. Spit again. Fuck, I want to come on you."

I nod and take my hand off to spit. He watches, mouth dropping open. When I fist him again, he shakes. His pupils flare, his hips moving. I don't know if I'm stroking him or if he's fucking into my hand. Both.

He grits his teeth, and I change the pace. Pushing him faster, blood rushing to my dick as I pick up the speed. His chest and throat blush, his muscles binding tighter. His cock throbs in my hand, so warm that it's nearly burning, and I am mesmerized. I stare, taking him in. I don't want to look away. I want to see everything, every fucking detail, as he grinds out a fast warning.

"Gonna…" He squeezes and then opens his eyes, meeting mine. "Fuck, I'm there."

He releases, shoving into my fist, wetting over my chest, his gaze never leaving mine, never breaking. Something passes between us that I can't put into words. He softens in my hand, shaking, his eyes moving down to where he's released over me, glistening on my chest.

"Holy fuck." He lets out a shaky breath, and then he's kissing me again, chest against mine, his cum slick and sticking between us, his hand moving down to my packer. He rubs it against me, bringing up a moan from deep in my chest before crawling down me, his joggers stretching over my knees and then my shins as he moves.

"Fuck, you're hot, Lenn. Can I…" He swallows. "Can I… suck you? Is that what…"

I nod, pulling in a breath and holding it in my lungs. My nerves spike, a worry starting to vibrate in the back of my head.

Archer.

Fuck, I don't want to think about him. I never got this far with him. Honestly, I've rarely gotten this far with any cis men. And?—

Reed tugs my boxers down, pulling from the waistband, taking my packer halfway with it.

He pauses, looking down, then his eyes move up to my face. "Holy fuck, you're hot. I can't…" He swallows thickly, looking down again. He tugs my boxers farther down. "I can't… your cock . I want to—sorry, shit." He shakes his head. "Dick. I didn't mean to?—"

"Cock is fine."

His gaze snaps up to mine. "I want to…" He licks his lips. "I want to suck your cock."

I groan. My chest collapsing with an exhale, with a sharp-tipped emotion I don't know how to describe. And it's only growing stronger as his breath grazes over my dick.

"Tell me what you like," he whispers, and then his tongue wets me. He moans, moving slowly, both of us taking our time, his gaze meeting mine as my back arches, my attention swelling down, my nerves starting to edge away. I grip his shoulders, and then he sucks my dick between his lips. I've got a good couple inches of bottom growth when I'm hard, and he sucks me, exactly like I fucking need. My hips rise. His tongue moves.

" That ," I grind out, before my words and my thoughts stop entirely.

The world stops entirely. Like everything has been placed on pause, suspended, hanging right here. His mouth covers my dick, warm and wet, tongue moving. His hand slides up my stomach, then higher. His fingers flicks at my nipples before he grips my neck, the long length of his arm covering me, weighing me down. Heat centralizes between my thighs, where he's licking me. What he's doing to me is taking me apart, breath by breath, his moans vibrating through me, his cock thickening against the inside of my leg again.

Fuck, he's getting hard.

From sucking me.

"Fuck me," I whisper. I didn't expect to say it. I know that's not taking it slow. But I want him to shove that beautiful cock inside of me so desperately that I suddenly struggle to think of anything else. I want him, all of him.

He tears his mouth off me. "Jesus, Lenn. I.." He closes his eyes, then nods. "Fuck, yes ."

We're both struggling to breathe as we manage to shove off his joggers, his cock thick again as I reach for my drawer, yanking it open and pulling out packets of lube. We're disorderly, hands shaking as we try to tear one open.

He laughs, then groans as he squeezes it on his fingers.

I raise my legs. "Back hole." And then start shaking hard when his fingers press there, slowly working inside. His breath comes in staggered bursts, his fingers trembling too as he works them into me. We're edged again, not slowly. Maybe we should—I don't know. But I don't think we can. I don't think that there's any slowing down anymore. There's no turning it off. There's no brake. No fucking safety net.

Nothing, as he rolls on a condom and positions himself at my entrance. Nothing else as the tip of his dick nudges into me, our breaths catching, our muscles all tensing, our hearts thudding. Nothing, as he slowly pushes inside, stretching me, making my eyes roll back and my dick throb. He buries himself, then cants his hips to pull halfway out before pushing all the way in again. Our low groans and moans filling the room, smelling like sex and sweat, his cum still sticky on my chest, our need rising hard and fast. I'm desperate as I glare up at him.

" Fuck me. " I grab his neck, dragging him down, and we jump over another edge I didn't even know was there. We lose ourselves. We fuck. We hold on to each other as we get lost in our bodies, feeding that constant ache between us—to be closer.

Closer.

Closer.

And the warmth that wells up through me, sparking and igniting, rushing through. We're panting and struggling to keep moving, gripping onto each other, losing reality. Sweaty and groaning and inflamed.

And I think, as he releases into me, filling the condom, my own release quickly chasing his, that this isn't reality. That we do exist somewhere else. Somewhere that's just us.

Somewhere that no one else can touch.