14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

MILO

Even with his promise not to freak out tonight, I hold my breath all the way back to the house. If we get there and he decides to let an attack of conscience change his mind, I might die of blue balls. I can still smell Zeke and Luther's cologne clinging to my clothes, but the scent of leather and Piston's bodywash permeating the car overpowers it little by little as we drive. Whatever radio station Jag put on earlier is still playing, but I can barely hear the music over my pulse in my ears and my racing thoughts.

I keep replaying the moment Piston pushed me up against the wall and shoved his tongue between my lips. My cock throbs as the mental GIF runs on a loop. I lick my lips over and over, chasing the lingering taste of his mouth on mine until it's completely gone and my lips feel raw. And neither of us says another word. Is he as afraid as I am that if we do, he'll find an excuse to talk himself out of whatever is about to happen?

My phone vibrates in my pocket as we get off the highway back in Fall Crosse. I slip it out of my pocket and see a message notification. I'm expecting it to be from Jag, giving me more shit about my obvious lie, but instead it's from an unknown number.

UNKNOWN: Hey, this is Zeke. Hope you don't mind that your friend gave us your number. He asked us who you left with, and we lied and said we didn't know since we didn't know what the deal was. Anyway, hope the plan worked and that you have a fun night! We had fun with you though and just wanted to let you know if you want to hang (as friends!) we're around.

I smile, save Zeke's number, and text back that I'll definitely hit him up to hang out soon. The two of them turned out to be pretty cool and funny. Fuck knows I could use some of my own friends if I'm going to be sticking around for a while.

Piston glances over at me as I shove my phone back into my pocket, curiosity written all over his face as he takes the final turn towards home. He doesn't come right out and ask, even though I can tell he's dying to. Would it be wrong of me to give one last push to make sure I don't lose him in the home stretch? Fuck it, go big or go home.

"That was Zeke. He just wanted to tell me he had fun dancing and that I should text him if I want to get together with him and Luther sometime."

His grip on the steering wheel tightens and I bite back a triumphant grin. His nostrils flare as he pulls into his driveway and cruises down the length of it, straight into the open garage. I jerk forward, my seat belt catching against my chest as he slams into park. He whips his seat belt off with one hand, using the other to turn the key in the ignition at the same time. I barely have a chance to take my own belt off before he's out of the car and storming around to my side. My hands shake with unrestrained excitement as I reach for the door handle.

Piston beats me to it, yanking my door open and hauling me out of the car by the front of my shirt. I didn't know it was possible to be rough and tender at the same time, but he manages it, manhandling me as he forces me to my feet, slamming our mouths together, then sighing gently against my lips like they're all the relief he needs from whatever unruly storm is raging inside of him.

We stand there just like that for a minute, caught in a greedy, slow, tongue-heavy kiss, my shirt wrapped around his hand while mine slip under his clothes to soak up the heat of his skin.

That first night I brought him back to my motel room, all I was looking for was a distraction from my nerves; something to get my mind off meeting Hero for the first time. Piston is anything but a distraction now. He's my obsession. Is that healthy? Maybe not. Do I care? Fuck no. All I care about is getting closer to him. All I want is his attention, his hands and lips all over me, my name on his tongue, and for his thoughts to be as tangled up and one-track as mine are.

The cold air finally manages to seep into my bones, and I shiver in spite of the heat of Piston's mouth on mine and his arms around me. He groans and wrenches his lips away from mine.

"Come on. If I let you catch pneumonia from the cold, that'll just be one more thing I have to feel guilty about." He nudges me towards the house, hitting a button to close the garage door along the way and then stepping inside right behind me.

"Are you always such a martyr?" I ask, toeing my shoes off and turning to face him while he bends over to untie his own boots.

I expect him to banter back, but instead, there's a serious, thoughtful look on his face when he straightens back up.

"Old habits," he mutters.

I want to ask about it. I want to know more about his past, his life, everything that made him who he is, but there will be time for that later. Tonight might be the only chance I get to show him how good we can be together. We stand in the small hallway, facing each other in the dark, neither of us saying a word. My stomach quivers and my nerves ignite like little firecrackers under my skin, making me feel jumpy and wired, like I need to either crawl out of my skin or find something to hold me together before I come apart.

Piston finally takes a step forward, closing the space between us. But instead of going in for another toe-curling kiss, he cups my jaw with one hand and loops his other arm around my waist, pulling me up against him. I can feel the hard, heavy shape of his arousal and I know he can feel mine.

"I'm not going to insult you by asking if you're sure you want this."

I let out a shaky laugh and thrust my erection against his to answer the question he's not asking. He makes a low, throaty sound that vibrates between us and makes my cock twitch.

"But I do need to know how you see this going. You said you're a virgin, do you just mean you haven't done anal?"

"This is such an embarrassing conversation." I laugh again, glad for the darkness hiding the blush I can feel flooding my face.

He closes the inch between our mouths and nips at my bottom lip sharply. I gasp and he soothes his tongue over it. I open my mouth, desperate for more, wordlessly begging him to just kiss me again and make this whole thing simple. But he pulls back again instead.

"It's an adult conversation," he says firmly.

"Okay, but do we have to have it in the hallway?"

Piston chuckles. "Fair enough."

I expect him to let me go, but instead, he tightens his grip and starts walking me backward. With each step, he brushes his mouth against mine teasingly, not quite kissing me. He backs me into his bedroom and flips on the light. I blink against the sudden brightness, then ghost my lips against his stubble-rough jaw. He doesn't stop until the backs of my knees hit the bed and I tumble backward with an embarrassing, " Eep ."

He stands over me, a hungry look in his eyes as he gazes down at me splayed out on his bed. I can only imagine what I look like right now—my hair disheveled, my lips red and bitten, my jeans straining to contain my cock. My jockstrap is damp with precum, and even the feeling of my t-shirt dragging over my nipples is enough to make me breathe harder.

Piston grabs his shirt by the back of the collar and tugs it up over his head. I saw him nearly naked earlier after his shower, but I was too keyed up to really look . Honestly, I'm not doing a hell of a lot better now, but fuck, I want to spend hours studying every line of his tattoos and tracing my tongue over the dark circles of his nipples.

"I'm waiting, Mi."

I blink, trying to catch back up to the conversation I clearly lost the thread on. Luckily, he sees the confusion written on my face and helps me out.

"How much of a virgin are you, and how do you see tonight playing out? I'll give you as much or as little as you want, I just need to know where the line is."

He lowers himself to the floor, on his knees between my legs.

"The most I've done with anyone is trading clumsy handjobs that were interrupted by the guy's roommate before either of us could even finish," I confess.

His eyebrows jump up and he pushes my shirt up to expose my stomach. Compared to him I feel pale, skinny, and oddly bare without a single tattoo. He rumbles a pleased sound in his throat though, holding my gaze as he traces a circle around my belly button with his tongue.

"So, no one else has ever made you gasp and pant, tasted the sweat on your skin and felt the vibrations of your moans as your balls tightened and your cock spasmed?" He scrapes his teeth gently along the bottom edge of my rib cage and I tremble.

"Jesus, no. And no one's ever talked to me like that either."

I start to sit up, reaching for the buttons on his jeans. He catches my wrist, then snags the other, pushing both my hands over my head and blanketing me with his body. He presses me into the mattress with the solid weight of his body, his cock finding mine through our clothes again. I whine and roll my hips, the tip of my cock dragging through the growing wet spot in my underwear, my balls already pulling tight just like he promised.

"You have one more question to answer, sweet thing." He leans in and flicks the tip of his tongue against my cheek, right where my dimple appears when I smile. "Tell me what you're ready for and I'll give it to you."

I meet his gaze so he can see the trust and confidence in my eyes. I know he's playing Captain Consent right now because I'm so inexperienced, but it's like I told him before, it's never been a moral thing or any kind of hang-up about my virtue. Maybe some part of me was waiting for the ‘right' person, but that never meant it had to be a forever person. I don't know what's going to happen between Piston and me tomorrow, but I know what I want to happen tonight.

"Everything. Touch me, suck me, make me cum screaming on your cock."

His breath catches, and even through our clothes, I can feel the way his cock pulses in response. His lips part on a groan and he descends on me with another hungry kiss.

Thank fuck the talking part is over. Not that I'm not all for a good conversation with Piston, but I'm out of brain power for words.

We move up the bed in a blur of wandering hands and deep, breathless kisses. We tug at each other's clothes, only breaking the kiss long enough for me to get my shirt over my head and fling it away blindly. Our jeans follow, awkwardly shed as we both kick and writhe out of them, refusing to untangle our tongues again to make it any easier.

The heat of his bare cock drags against the inside of my thigh and there's something unexpected about it that's finally enough incentive for me to stop kissing him and get a better view. I gulp air into my burning lungs, running my hands greedily over his chest and abs as I look between us.

"Fuck," I murmur.

PISTON

I rock against the crook of his thigh, Milo's hard cock dragging against my stomach, leaving slippery streaks of precum on my skin. His eyes widen as he looks between us, and I grin. He drags his hand down my belly, stopping just short of touching my cock.

"Go ahead, it doesn't bite," I tease.

He snorts and then extends just his index finger to stroke the warm metal of the steel barbell pierced through the head of my cock. The light tug at the piercing reverberates through my already throbbing cockhead, rewarding him with a spurt of precum oozing from my slit to run down the barbell and cling to his finger.

"Fuck," he whispers again, his cock twitching and throbbing against me.

I groan and rock my hips again involuntarily. As I surge forward, Milo wraps his hand around my shaft with shaky fingers and a tentative grip. I thread my fingers through his hair and tilt his head back to give myself better access to the column of his throat. His Adam's apple bobs with his swallow as I drag my tongue along the corded muscles and tendons, fucking into the loose channel of his fingers. I want to bite down hard enough to leave bruises that will last for days, love bites that will still be there if he decides to meet up with Zeke and Luther again.

I growl possessively and thrust harder into his fist, scraping my teeth lightly over his thrumming pulse. Milo whimpers and arches up underneath me, letting go of my cock and shifting so our erections meet, hot and hard and bare this time. As soon as the silky-smooth skin of his shaft meets mine, he shudders under me, digging his fingers roughly into my biceps. I smirk against his skin and return to licking and kissing him instead of biting.

Those jackasses from the club can text him all they want. Milo came home with me . He's digging bruises into my arms and panting in my ear. His precum slicked cock is grinding against mine and it's going to be my name on his lips when he comes.

Mine.

Mine.

Mine .

We buck together frantically, our mouths finding each other again in sloppy, frenzied kisses. My chest swells with a possessive, triumphant, wild feeling. It's all I can do not to flip him over and drive my cock into his tight virgin ass here and now. I want to wreck him for anyone else who might ever even dare to look at him. I don't want him to be able to get off without thinking about me for the rest of his life.

Our skin gets damp with sweat as we roll round in a tangle of sheets, hands groping as we move from kissing to exploring each other's bodies with our lips and tongues instead. Milo drags deep, rumbling moans from me as he sucks and bites my nipples, and I take my turn making him squirm by tonguing his belly button.

He tastes sweet and salty. Every bitten-off, gasping groan he lets out echoes in my quiet bedroom and tightens around my throbbing balls. I want to lick every inch of his skin. I want to fucking devour him. I flick the tip of my tongue through his happy trail, and he flexes his hips. His cock bumps my chin, breathy whimpers puffing from between his lips as he fists the sheets.

I pull back just enough to get a good look at his long, slender cock. The tip of it is glistening with precum and the veins lining his shaft are bulging, begging to be tongued and teased. My hot breath puffs over his cockhead and he whines, humping the air helplessly.

I manage to stop staring at his cock just long enough to grab a condom and lube from the nightstand. My heart hammers over what I'm about to do. He asked for it, he wants it, but that doesn't mean I should do it.

But is it better to let someone else be his first? Someone who might not care about making it perfect for him. Someone who might just use him as a notch in their bed post or a reason to brag.

It turns out it's incredibly easy to do the mental gymnastics required to convince myself that fucking him into my mattress tonight will practically make me worthy of sainthood. Is making Milo happy really the worst thing I could do?

I pop open the cap on the lube and squirt a generous amount onto my fingers, then I shuffle down to position myself between his legs, his pretty cock twitching and throbbing just inches from my lips. His balls are already heavy and tight against his body, his thighs quivering and his chest heaving with every breath he drags in. His eyes are glued to me, and there's a wild, pleading look in them like he's prepared to riot if I try to stop now.

As if I could.

I think we both know this has been inevitable since the night we met, no matter what I tried to tell myself.

"Just breathe and try to relax for me." I drag my lips lightly over the tip of his cock as I murmur the instructions.

He whimpers and rocks his hips again, nudging his cockhead against the damp seam of my lips. I slip my lubed fingers between his legs and into his crease. He moans as I drag them over the pucker of his hole, feeling it flutter and clench under my touch, trying to relax but unable to fight the natural instinct to draw tighter.

I open my mouth and suck just the tip of his cock between my lips. Milo lets out a strangled sound, convulsing like he's been electrocuted, his cock jerking and twitching and his hole spasming against my fingertips again.

I'm not in any hurry though. I take my time sucking gently on the head of his cock, coaxing an endless stream of precum from him, lapping it from his slit while I pet his rim. I stroke his puckered hole slowly with teasing circles and soft taps that make his legs tremble and his breath catch. Every little bit he manages to relax, I reward him by taking his cock an inch deeper into my mouth until my lips are stretched around the base, his length testing my gag reflex, and the tip of my index finger is being squeezed by that tight ring of his muscles.

"Oh my god. Oh fuck, I'm not going to make it." He squirms and gasps, alternating between staring down at me with a pained kind of awe and clenching his eyes shut, presumably to keep himself from spilling down my throat without so much as another lick from me.

I hum around his cock, my nose buried in his dark pubic hair. My dick leaks and pulses against the mattress, my hips jerking with involuntary thrusts. I want to give him what he asked for. I want to fuck him and make him come on my cock, just like he asked, like he begged . Fuck knows I want it as badly as he does, maybe more. But I don't want to rush prep either. He's nowhere near ready to take my cock, no matter how badly we both want him to be.

Disappointment lurches in my chest. If this wasn't going to be our only night together, the decision would be easy.

It has to be the only night we have together , I remind myself.

But as I look up at Milo, clawing at the sheets, quivering as he tries to hold himself back from thrusting into my throat, his skin beautifully flushed, the decision is easy anyway.

I pull off of his cock slowly with a filthy, wet sound, stopping when only the tip is between my lips again. I swirl and crook my fingers, working that tight ring of muscles just a little looser, and then I take him deep into my throat again. He grunts and whines and moans as I fall into a rhythm, fucking him shallowly with just one finger, lapping at the throbbing veins in his shaft with every upstroke and swallowing around him with every downward thrust.

He gives up his fight to hold still and starts to buck into my rhythm. I moan encouragingly, my cock throbbing with the flutter and clench of his hole around my first knuckle and the sound of his breathing getting more and more desperate and erratic.

That's right, Puppy, give it to me . I watch him with hungry eyes, memorizing the way his eyebrows pull together and his muscles tense as he gets closer and closer to the edge.

"Piston. Piston. Piston ," he wails. "I'm going to… I can't… Oh my gooooooood ."

He slams his hips up, shoving his cock as deep into my throat as he can. I swallow around him, feeling the way he stiffens that last little bit, swelling fatter against my tongue. His balls pull so tight they practically disappear into his body, and his hole spasms and pulses around my finger. Milo wails, then spills down my throat, feeding me hot, salty ropes of his cum. I suck him through every second of his trembling and screaming, grunting encouragement as I lap at his slit, refusing to miss a drop of what I've earned.

He collapses, boneless and sweaty, and I finally release his softening cock from between my lips with a wet pop , easing my finger out of his tender hole. I crawl up his body, shaking with how close I am to my own release. I straddle him, brushing my lips over his, greedily devouring the wrecked expression on his face. His hot, panting breath bathes my face and I fist my cock with a groan.

"No," he gasps as soon as he realizes what I'm doing.

I freeze mid-stroke, ready to climb off him and go finish myself off in the bathroom if that's what he wants. But he wraps a hand around my bicep and tugs me closer, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out like the porn version of a red carpet. It only takes my lust-drunk brain half a second to figure out what he's asking for.

"You're the filthiest virgin I've ever met," I murmur, shuffling up farther until my knees are planted on either side of his head and the tip of my cock rests against the wet heat of his tongue. "Is that what you want?" I tap my cockhead against his tongue.

The wet little slap, slap, slap sound that accompanies every tap stokes the heat in my gut and makes my balls tingle.

Milo whines and nods, his eyes full of pleading. He digs his fingers into my thighs and flicks the tip of his tongue against my barbell. I groan and start to stroke myself again.

It only takes seconds before I feel heat coiling in my gut and my balls starting to tighten. I grunt and groan, looking down at his head between my quivering thighs, his eyelids drooping, a satisfied, orgasm-drunk grin on his lips even with his mouth wide open for me. His hair is a tangled mess, and I can still taste his release on my tongue. I stroke myself faster, precum pouring onto his waiting tongue, my barbell catching against the slick surface of it, sending sparks of heat straight through my shaft. Milo reaches between my legs to roll my balls in his fingers, and I'm done for.

I throw my head back and shout, my whole body clenching and quaking as pleasure rockets through me. The first volley of my release lands on his tongue and I force my eyes open so I can see it. The stripes of my release paint his lips and drip down his chin, rope after rope exploding from my cock to mark him.

"Fuck," I say through gritted teeth, fucking my fist, my thighs quaking and my cock pulsing until I've fed him the last dribbles of my orgasm.

He closes his mouth to swallow the offering, then licks his lips to catch as much as he can. He even holds my gaze as he laps the final drop of my cum off of the steel ball the rests just under my slit. I shiver with sensitivity and the knowledge that this night is going to be my go-to jerk-off fantasy for the rest of my life.

I climb off him and pull him into my arms. I lick the stray cum off his chin then kiss him. The combined taste of our orgasms lingers in the slow, lazy kiss while we both catch our breath.

"Sorry," he whispers against my lips.

I frown and pull back.

"For what?"

His lips twist with a shy, embarrassed smile and he rests his head on my shoulder. "That didn't exactly go how I was planning. Sorry I finished before we got to the main event."

I grip his chin and look into his eyes so I can be sure he hears what I'm about to say.

"Sex isn't just about sticking your dick in a hole. And it doesn't always go as planned." I shrug. "No big deal. I had a great time. Did you?"

His smile widens a little and his dimple makes an appearance. He nods. "Best night of my life."

My chest constricts and I brush a kiss to his forehead.

"Me too."

He shuffles around, getting closer and slinging one leg over mine.

"Can I stay?" He yawns. "Just for tonight."

I know I should send him to his own room. If I wake up to us sharing a bed, naked and wrapped around each other, it's only going to make tomorrow morning harder. But I can't bring myself to say it. Instead of answering, I just tighten my arms around him and reach over to turn off the bedside lamp.

We'll deal with tomorrow when it comes.