27. Noah

I"m boneless, trying to recover from the most intense orgasm I"ve ever had in my life, babbling absolute nonsense for what feels like hours. It's late, and now that we've come down from the high, Lane is mostly relaxed, laughing at me being out of my mind as I describe what it felt like to have his finger in my ass. I"d heard of the prostate, knew I had one, spent a very curious month watching prostate play videos almost exclusively and trying to do it myself with no luck. I just thought it wasn"t my thing.

It"s definitely my thing.It was intense in the most inexplicable way. I've never had an orgasm make me see colors before. Is that why rainbows are a thing?

Could I be a bottom? I"d always imagined myself as a top when it came to Lane—because yes, I"ve absolutely imagined it. Many times.

Lane"s finger was thick and burned at first. But his entire cock? I don"t know about that. I look at it, innocently laying off to the side like it isn"t menacing. Even half hard, it"s fucking massive.

"Have you ever measured that thing?"

Lane chokes out a laugh. "What?"

"That fucking python you call a cock. Have you ever measured it?"

"No." A flush creeps up his neck that makes me want to crawl on top of him. Why is it so sexy when he"s flustered?

"Don"t you dare try to cover it up. I"m not done looking at it yet."

I might never be. It"s the most interesting cock I"ve ever seen. Not that I"ve seen a lot of cocks. I mean, I"ve seen my fair share in the locker room and watching porn and stuff, but I"ve only ever seen my own up close and personal. But his is so different from mine. The foreskin is different, obviously. It"s my current obsession and I'm jealous of it. I"d probably play with it all day if I had it. I"d play with his all day if he let me.

"I think if we folded your dick in half, it would be almost the same size as mine," I observe.

"It"s not that big," he says shyly, laughing when I smack his hand away when he tries to cover himself. "Do you have to make this weird?"

"Tell me any part of this that isn"t already weird," I point out. His face falls, and I cringe, worried that he"ll start freaking out at the reminder that he"s doing gay stuff with his stepbrother. Repeatedly. And enjoying it. Begging for it, even. "Hot as fuck though, amiright?"

Lane rolls his eyes and sits up. "I"m going to go clean up," he says, staring down at his hand like it doesn"t belong to him.

"Oh, no you don"t," I tell him, pulling him back down on the bed. "It"s my turn."

"Your turn to what?"

"Give you the gift of knowledge." I smirk at my biblical joke, but I"m not sure he appreciates it. His eyes are wide with what might be terror as I crawl over his legs and settle between them. Ignoring his obvious trepidation, because he knows how to tell me to stop if he wants me to, I hook my forearms under the back of his knees to pull him down so he"s laying flat on the pillows again, with his knees bent on either side of me.

"Noah, I don"t like?—"

"Don"t like what, Lane? The idea of getting your dick swallowed while someone massages your prostate until you cum so hard you almost black out? Having the most intense orgasm of your life forcefully wrung out of you?" I give his rapidly hardening cock a very pointed look before leaning over to open the top drawer of his bedside table. Even the damn drawer is organized, a few books neatly stacked, a journal with a pen attached, and his phone charger—neatly wrapped like a fucking psychopath—is all that"s in here.

"Where do you keep your lube?"

"My what now?"

"Lube. You know, like lotion or whatever."

"There"s some sunscreen in my gym bag."

"Dude. What do you use to jerk off with?"

"What have you ever seen me use to jerk off with!?"

"Good point I guess," I say, and my mouth waters remembering the day I spit on his cock so he could jerk off.

God, that was hot.

And look at us now. He"s laid out before me, legs spread, about to take my fingers in his ass until he comes so hard he'll never question me again.

He shudders when I spit on my fingers, and sits up swiftly, holding my hand still before it can go anywhere.

"Wait. Maybe this isn"t a good idea."

"Tell me this, Lane. Do you want me to stop because you really want me to stop, or are you afraid that you"ll like it?"

He swallows and looks down at his cock that"s obviously very curious about what"s about to happen. Nodding sagely, because I fucking know him, I place a hand on his chest and push him back down. I hover over him, caressing up the outside of his thigh and taking my first handful of his perfect ass.

My hand moves back down his leg and then shifts to run my fingers up the inside of his thigh. He tenses.

"Noah. Stop." His voice is higher than usual, and shaky.

I pause, because even though he didn't say the safe word, there's something in his tone. It's not the kind of nervousness that gets me excited, it's real, palpable fear.

"I—I'm not ready."

"Because you're afraid you'll like it?"

He nods, his eyes full of more anguish than I've ever seen before. It's a moment of decision that I take more seriously than I'm sure it seems on the outside. As much fun as I'm having, I don't want to push him too far. But then again, maybe that's what he needs. And he's not using the safe word, so maybe that's what he wants as well.

He's afraid that he'll like it, and if he does, he'll have to admit something to himself that he's been trying to hide from. And I think he might be right about that. Because I want to make him come so hard, more colors explode behind his eyes than he's ever seen before. I want to make him feel so good, he forgets to feel bad about it.

"Say it then," I say, continuing the path my fingers are taking. "If you really want me to stop, say it."

Lane swallows and clenches his eyes shut. Slowly, tentatively, I run my fingers down his hardening cock, over his balls, to his taint. He whimpers as I rub small circles there before my fingers push lower. Lane is trembling from head to toe.

My body pulses with excitement, every fiber of my being completely enthralled with all the things I want to do with him. To him. I forget to breathe as my fingertips trace up and down his crack, over his hole, until I have to suck in a breath at the sight of pre-cum dripping from his tip. Lowering myself between his thighs, I force him to spread his legs wider to fit my shoulders between them. My head dips, and my tongue lazily drags up the salty path of his arousal.

I'm fucking drooling. So much so that as I'm licking him, it drips down his balls, forming a tiny rivulet of spit that flows to his ass. I watch it trickle, enjoying the sight of his little pink asshole winking at me as my spit pools over it. It's practically begging me to stuff it full of my fingers, my cock, my… tongue. Suddenly desperate to have my mouth on him, I dip my head lower, reveling in the way he gasps when I spread his cheeks open and lick him in one broad stroke of my tongue. My eyes roll back. So. Fucking. Sweet.

"W-what are you doing?" he rasps, sounding somewhere between awed and outraged. His cock jerks and leaks another stream of pre-cum, his body betraying what he doesn't want to admit. He fucking loves my dirty mouth on his pristine, clean body.

"Kissing you," I say with my face buried in his ass, before I press open-mouthed kisses over his hole.

Call me crazy, because I certainly never found the idea of licking anyone"s asshole appealing before, but I"m obsessed with Lane on a level I didn"t realize was possible. I thought I could get him out of my system, but every touch only makes me want more. I'dcrawl inside his body and wear him like a suit, kind of obsessed. My cock is harder than it was in the car, before we were hours into this marathon of orgasms, ready to go again. My hips writhe, humping the comforter for friction while I tongue his asshole, pressing against it to slip inside?—

"Time Warp!"

The words come out on a sob. I freeze immediately, pulling my mouth away from him, and sitting up as he scrambles away from me to sit at the edge of the bed.

"Lane—" I try to reach for him, but he flinches away and stands. "Lane, it's okay," I say softly.

He won't look at me, but I see a tear fall on the ground when he bends over to pick up his discarded clothes. I stare at the tiny splash, feeling as though I can see his entire world of pain in the light that reflects off it.

The front door slams. He'd left the room, but I assumed he was just going to the bathroom.

Fuck.

I'm able to pull my boxer briefs back on pretty quickly, but it takes too long to fix my inside out jeans, and before I'm halfway through untangling the legs, I get frustrated. This is taking too long! I throw them on the ground and run out the door, forgetting my shoes in my rush to get to him.

"Lane!"

My voice echoes through the stairwell, the concrete cold and hard on my bare feet as I race down the three flights of stairs, bursting into the lobby. It's dark except for the recessed lighting that stays on overnight. There's no one in the lounge area or in the gym when I run by, pushing open the doors.

I run down the sidewalk, feet splashing through puddles, towards the path Lane normally takes when he runs. He had a head start, obviously, but I don't see any signs of him. The sidewalk curves around the grassy area around our building and onto campus, and although it's dark out, there are streetlights lighting the path. I should be able to at least make out movement. I backtrack towards the front of the dorms, checking the other side of the building.

The light rain and late September chill make me shiver, and I remember that I ran out here in nothing but my boxer briefs like an idiot. Bending to put my hands on my knees and force myself to breathe, I try to think about where he'd go. I need to go upstairs and get dressed and get the keys, and then I can drive around and look for him.

But when I lift my head towards the parking lot, the car isn't in the back corner where we parked it earlier.