Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

be where

your feet

are

Reed

Lennox kisses down my chest, lips warm, fingers tickling down my sides, his knees spread on either side of mine. Inching down my body, his breath warms my navel, and then the head of my cock. His tongue slips out, and my back arches, my head digging back into the pillow as he licks a bead of precum off.

"You taste good," he whispers. "I can't wait to swallow more later."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Lenn." I let out a groan, my hips moving up as his breath warms over my shaft, my eyes fluttering closed.

I am content.

The kind of content that I didn't know existed.

The kind that lives and breathes and thrives deep in my chest.

We've been in my room for hours, but we've spent all of that time, until five minutes ago, talking.

He came to my house.

I didn't expect that.

He's set on us doing what we'd planned to do. Not changing things based on one dickwaste roommate.

His fortitude amazes me—his voice, his ability to stand up for himself, his determination.

And Archer…

I had to fucking play with him, but otherwise, unless the game called for it, I didn't even bother to look his way.

The team kicked ass. I nailed two goals, almost got the third, but it ricocheted off the post. Colin nearly got the rebound. The other goalie was good, though. Their whole team was good. Rough play—I've got bruises along my shins, scratches on my shoulder, and possibly a growing black eye that Lennox said he'll have to work into my makeup later, but I feel so fucking good . The release of a game, adrenaline and exhilaration, the thrill and intensity, the heart-pounding excitement, the surety and strength in my body. I still feel it, muscles tired but loose, my ass resting on the bed, my toes curling in the sheets as Lennox lazily laps his tongue up the full length of my cock.

"Fuuuck." I arch back again. My voice is fractured, a warmth welling deep in my gut. "What are you doing to me?"

When he first came over, he spent a lot of time going around my room. Looking at my trophies, which I keep in a box over in the corner. My books and my pile of hats, even though I pretty much just wear the Boston University one that's getting frayed on the brim. My hand-drawn comics, from so long ago, that I haven't shown to anyone else. He read through them, taking his time, laughing at the silly jokes, and then he looked at me and said, "Make me another."

I will .

I want to.

I'll never be like him, doing it for a living, but I want to get back into it on my own time. Those long bus rides or lying next to him at night. There's no reason I can't start again.

I thought about all the things I want to tell him as he moved around my room, and then we snuggled on the bed, and just talked.

We talked about Archer for a long while. About Lennox's transition and what that was like for him. I'm glad we talked about it. I told him before that I don't really have questions—he's Lennox to me, the person who I see before me—but I want to hear everything. I want to know how he came to be the person he is.

This person I'm falling in love with.

I can't even think about it without my throat closing up, without warmth gathering in my eyes. And then I kissed him, and words shifted to moans, his hands removing my clothes, his mouth moving down me. He's still fully dressed, his hand wrapping around my shaft and stroking. His thumb rolls over my head as he straddles my thighs, his jeans rasping against my skin, his t-shirt hugging his stomach, dark eyes hooding.

"Fuck, you're so hot." I lick my lips, my mouth watering for him, my cock throbbing in his hand. Another bead of precum wells out, glistening in the light, not blue tinted like in his room, but warm and dim, making my room secluded, the world fading at the edges of the bed. "Did you know that I jack off to you?"

His brows rise. "When?"

"Usually in the shower. Even if I don't come." I take in a slow breath that fills my lungs and nudges at that deep place of contentment. "Sometimes, I just like to stroke myself thinking about you. Not needing to go anywhere else with it."

His lips rise, his hand working me steadily. "Like I'm doing now?"

I laugh, my stomach flexing. "I'm kinda hoping this goes somewhere."

His thumb rolls over my tip. "Where do you want it to go?"

My smile falls. "Would you fuck me here?"

I'd asked him before. Asked him if he would, if he'd bring whatever he needed.

His lips part, his hand pausing. "Yes." He tilts his head toward his bag in the corner.

I inhale sharply, realizing that he did bring something. "Now?"

His eyes move over me, down to my chest and dick, and then back up. "Are you sure you want this?"

"Fuck, yes ." My dick twitches in his palm, as if it's answering too. I suppose it is, because all of me wants this. I don't know why I wanted it here . In my bed, in my room, but I did.

He nods, shifting back, releasing my dick before he climbs off the bed. I watch him as he swipes his t-shirt over his head before pushing down his jeans, his briefs tight around his ass before those lower too.

Ohhh fuck, my eyes are all over him, blood pumping harder as he bends and zips his backpack open, pulling out a black harness. He turns toward me and then slowly buckles it low around his waist, the black straps lying over his hips and coming up between his legs.

My saliva thickens, my pulse echoing in my throat.

I struggle for words, my muscles quivering as I take him in.

His strap-on is black, swelling out hard from his harness, at least seven inches, tipped up with a flared head, and my eyes move from the black cock to him, to the cock again. I roll onto my side, push up onto my feet, and I cross to him.

I swallow, looking down, the vibration to touch him rattling in my fingers. I reach out, then pause. "Can I touch you?"

My voice is so rough that it hardly sounds like words. He's told me that I don't need to ask, but I still want to every time. His relationship with his body is more complicated than mine, and I want to be aware. I want to be a person he can always be safe with.

He nods, his tongue sliding over his bottom lip, and then he grips it, stroking along the cock, his hand moving, his head tilting back. He strokes himself once more, the base of the dildo hitting against his dick, grinding against it, his hips moving before his hand falls to his side.

I moan. Ohh fuck, it's even hotter than I imagined.

My mouth waters, my knees want to drop. I lean forward, bending so that I can kiss him. Our mouths merge, our tongues moving. The strap-on— his cock —grinds against me, digging against my thigh, and I squeeze my eyes shut as I kiss him, his hands coming up to grip my neck as he rises onto his toes, pushing himself against me, his pelvis moving.

I let out a whimper.

I don't think I've ever whimpered before, but it comes out against his mouth, and then I sink down onto my knees. I fist him, stroking, that black head disappearing and reappearing into my palm, watching how the base rubs against his dick. "I want to suck you."

He's nodding, his lips parting, his eyes on fire as he watches me.

I lean forward and take him into my mouth.

I love sucking his dick. No matter how he is in the current moment—his t-dick, his packer, this seven-inch black cock—it's fucking heaven, and I let my tongue swirl around the head before taking him down. My hands rise to grab his ass, and I take him to the back of my tongue. I moan around him, squeezing his ass as he grinds against my mouth, noises coming out of him that are hard-line wired to my dick.

We're close to the bed, and he steps a foot up on the mattress, fucking deeper, his ass flexing under my palms, his eyes glazing as he watches.

"Ohh fuck, Reed," he breathes out, his lips moving faster, his hand gripping onto the back of my neck. "Your mouth on me…"

He's shaking. We both are, as I pull off.

My lips are stinging, my need is like this balloon that keeps expanding. "I want you inside of me."

He groans, and then we're climbing onto the bed, and I snag the lube, but my shaking intensifies, adrenaline coursing through me but also nerves. Those seven inches are going to be in my ass.

But, fuck, I want it.

My hands are shaking so hard that I have a difficult time passing Lennox the lube, and he tilts closer to my ear. "We can stop at any time."

"I know," I whisper. "But I want you in me. I want this." I reach down to stroke his cock, and he moans, arching back onto the bed. Then, He's fisting me, and we're stroking each other in time, our breaths coming louder, our sounds swelling through the room.

His hand moves down, cupping my balls, rolling them lightly in his palm, and my thighs shift open.

"Prep me," I whisper. My hand slides up to his chest, fingers flicking around his nipple as he moves down between my thighs. We're on our sides, and he has to scoot way down to reach, dragging my leg up over his shoulder. I hear the pop of the lube cap, and at the same time, warmth on my dick before he swallows me. And then he slicks a finger under my balls, sliding to my hole.

I tense, my cock leaking in his mouth, my body twisted so that he can have access. He murmurs something around my cock that sounds like "relax" and I try, breathing through my nose, closing my eyes, just getting lost in the sensations of what he's doing to me.

He consumes my fucking body. I don't know how he does it, my cock in his mouth as he slowly works his fingers, increasing the pressure until it floods across my abdomen.

I shiver, moans welling out, which turn into those whimpers. I ride on waves, close to coming, and then it recedes as he pulls off my cock before it rises up again. I curse as his hands leave me, but then his mouth is on me, licking and kissing as he moves up my body, my hands all over him, gripping him, dragging him closer.

"Do you still want to?" he whispers close to my ear.

"So fucking badly," I whisper back, as he settles behind me, turning onto his back and reaching for the lube again. He covers his cock with the lube, and I turn to see it glistening black. He rolls behind me, nearly spooning me, his cock hard against my ass. I squeeze my eyes shut, my ass canting back toward him, his hand resting on my hip.

"Are you ready?" His breath feathers over the back of my neck, his hand pushing my hip slightly forward, and then it leaves and there's pressure. Down low, filling across my pelvis and stomach, intensifying as it goes.

I let out a moan and then a curse, and he pauses.

"Reed?"

I nod, squeezing my eyes tighter. "Keep going. I want…"

My words trail off as he does, deepening that pressure, filling that fissure, and god, fuck, holy… the pressure . My cock throbs, and my chest constricts. I shift my ass back, eager for more of him, and I'm cursing and whimpering as it happens. His palm grips my hip as he fucks into me. That wave of nearly coming rises up again, and recedes, and rises up. Over and over, pushing me to the edge, then pulling me back.

I'm making noises. I'm shaking, my eyes leaking tears. I want to grab my cock, but I can hardly control my hands, my arms. Even more so when he pulls out and we turn so that I'm on my back, his stomach flexing with every thrust, his mouth tipping open as his eyes move down. I imagine how we must look, him fucking me, his cock sliding in and out, slick with lube, and oh god, I manage to fist myself, but my movements are erratic. He knocks my hand aside, and his palm wraps around me, his strokes moving in time with his thrusts, sweat dripping from his neck onto me. He builds me again, and this time, there's no holding back.

I come without warning, my ass clenching down on his cock, the waves of it rolling through me, again and again, not seeming to stop. He moans with me, his lips parted, red and swollen, and then he pulls out, jerking himself before he follows, shaking just as hard as me, and then collapsing against my chest.

Holy fucking fuck .

I'm floating, in the pool, the water cushioning me, holding me up, swelling around me. High up to the clouds, aloft on wings.

I love you, Lenn.

The words are right there. But I don't say it.

Not now in this half aware state. I want us to be fully present when I say it. I want him to know how deeply I mean it.

I want it to matter.

So, I pull him closer, and I breathe with his body next to mine, covered in sweat, still shaking, needing his mouth against mine, hugging him with my strength. And I think those words, over and over, my mouth moving, my tongue wanting to form them.

But I don't say the words.

Not yet, not yet.