15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

MILO

Mmm, cozy.

Fuck, Piston smells even better first thing in the morning. Or maybe I'm just a total weirdo perv who really loves the smell of his dried sweat and cum.

Cum…

Ungh. Last night happened. For real. Piston's mouth on my cock and his finger in my ass was a situation that actually happened.

Was he into it? He said he was, but maybe he was being polite?

Do guys do that? Seems like it would make more sense just to be honest, but I could also see Piston being the type to try to spare someone's feelings.

Fuck me, I finally get him naked, and I nut before he can stick more than a finger inside me. I don't think he even managed a whole finger. If I felt that full with just his fingertip, what would it actually feel like to have my hole stretched around his cock?

I groan softly.

The whole thing was so damn hot. Hot for me, anyway. Still undetermined whether it was hot for Piston or he was trying to be nice.

As usual, my brain is wide awake and already whipping up an anxiety spiral before the rest of my body even knows what's happening. As far as it's concerned, we're in a lovely, warm cocoon of thick blankets and naked man. I'm definitely opting for that version of reality over the violence my brain is choosing at fuck o'clock in the morning.

I squeeze my eyes closed even tighter and burrow deeper into Piston's arms. I don't have the first clue what time it is. It could be the middle of the night or it could be well past noon. I'm not about to open my eyes and find out. Given Piston's soft snoring, he's not that worried about it either.

To combat the incessant brain chatter, I settle on replaying memories from last night, starting with the moment he pushed me up against the wall and shoved his tongue down my throat. I linger in excruciating detail on the feeling of his hot, wet tongue dancing with mine, the possessive way he dug his fingers into me and bit down on my jaw like he was trying to stake his claim.

The pleasant chub of my morning wood thickens against his bare hip. Maybe this is a dangerous choice of distractions. Hard to decide which is worse post-hookup etiquette though—letting Piston wake up to me hard and horny all over again or getting myself so fixated on all of my questions and worries that I eventually shake him awake and bombard him with an endless stream of them.

Common sense tells me the first option is preferable, so I stop questioning it and sink back into my half-awake horny daydream. I can still feel a slight sting in my ass even from just a single finger. I clench just to test it, and the ache makes my cock stiffen a little more. I nuzzle my nose against his bare shoulder and resist the urge to suck on his skin.

I guess it's probably a good thing I didn't last long enough for the main event if I'm still feeling one finger hours later. I can't ignore the pit of disappointment in my stomach though. I have no clue how he's going to feel this morning. Last night might have been my one and only chance with him, and I blew it. I huff out a breath against his shoulder.

What if he wakes up this morning and is so freaked out about what we did that he tells me I have to move out?

Worse, what if he lets me stay but everything between us changes? What if the few inches between us on the couch this past week turn into no more late-night TV binges at all?

So much for not spiraling.

Okay, happy thoughts. Get back to happy thoughts.

The sound of Piston's grunts and moans muffled around my tongue while we undressed each other.

The weight of his cockhead on my tongue and the strained look on his face as he chased his release.

The salty-sweet flavor of his cum…

Annnnnd I'm back to horny. This is a very hard morning… pun intended?

His breathing changes, becoming less deep and rhythmic. His leg, tangled between mine, twitches, and his fingers curl against my back. I hold my breath. Should I pretend to still be asleep? Wait, why would I need to pretend to be asleep? Is it bad hookup etiquette to be the first person awake? And why the hell isn't there a YouTube channel that covers advice for situations like this? 10 tips for when you wake up naked with your long-lost dad's close friend.

I'd subscribe to that. I'd even smash the Like button like I wanted Piston to smash me last night.

Dammit, Milo, focus. Piston is slowly blinking awake, and I still haven't decided yet if I should pretend like I'm just waking up too or if it even matters. The windows rattle gently, like there's major wind going on outside. I'm not sure why I even notice except for the fact that it's a momentary distraction from my nerves.

Under the anxious electricity firing through my body, there's something else though. Excitement, butterflies, the silly fantasy that he might wake up and kiss me instead of freaking out…

His eyes are hazy with leftover sleep, but they meet mine and it's officially too late to pretend I'm still asleep.

"Morning," I whisper, because it feels wrong to speak at a normal volume while we're still in bed.

He grunts, and I have no idea if it's a ‘good morning' grunt, a ‘what the hell are you still doing in my bed?' grunt, or an ‘I need coffee before I form full sentences' grunt. With all the anxious, borderline giddy energy firing through all of my nerve endings, it's impossible to keep myself from twitching and squirming a little in his arms.

The movement makes my cock drag against him again. The foggy look in his eyes is burned away, turning into a smolder, and his cock stiffens in response. He flexes his fingers, his fingertips brushing along my spine.

"Morning," he murmurs gruffly, his touch dragging leisurely down my back until it tickles just above my crease. "How are you feeling?"

I clench my hole again, and just like earlier, my cock twitches too. The way we're wrapped around each other, I can feel the answering throb of his growing erection against my belly, but that's not where I want it. There are a lot of better places I can think of, actually, but right now there's one in particular that's at the top of my list.

I shift until the silky hot steel of his shaft aligns with mine, letting out a shuddering, soft moan. He grabs a handful of my ass cheek, his fingers skirting along the crease, the motion tugging lightly on my sore hole.

"A little tender," I answer the question I'm pretty sure he asked a century ago… or maybe it was only five seconds. It's really hard to tell right now.

Piston inches his fingers deeper into my crease and carefully strokes where I'm sore. He rests his forehead against mine while he does it, his eyes never leaving mine.

"I guess I should have practiced more before I tried to dive straight into the deep end, huh?" I huff a laugh and nibble on my bottom lip.

His expression smolders all over again. "You've never fingered yourself before?"

I shake my head.

Piston's nostrils flare, and instead of horny, he suddenly looks pissed.

"What if you'd been with someone who was a complete prick? I've been with plenty of guys who couldn't have given less of a fuck about prep, they just shoved it in and focused on getting themselves off. Someone else could have hurt you. They could have made your first time traumatic and painful."

I know he's trying to scare me, but all I can hear is the thunder in his voice at the hypothetical possibility of someone hurting me, and I'm not going to lie, it's doing things to me.

"But I wasn't with someone else." I brush my lips against his lightly, not kissing but tempting him. "I was with you."

He makes a satisfied sound in his throat.

"What about next time?" His nose bumps mine and he returns the tease, just barely caressing my lips with his.

He continues to tenderly stroke my entrance. It's still slick with the remnants of the lube I never bothered to clean up last night. I roll my hips slowly, grinding our cocks together.

"You're right." We're all but kissing now, mouths nearly flush as we whisper. "We should work our way up to it more slowly. Next time you can make me come with two fingers inside me, then three the time after that. I can even spring for some training plugs, and you can work me up one size at a time until you think I'm ready."

Piston's answering groan sounds pained. He rubs my hole a little harder for a second before he pulls his fingers away, rolls me onto my back, and straddles me. He pins me to the bed with his weight again, the warm metal of his piercing teasing the head of my cock, his breath hot against my lips.

"I'm trying to come to terms with last night being a one-time fuckup that I'll have to punish myself over for the rest of my life, and you're not helping. You say shit like that, and it makes me want to burn my entire life down just so I can be the one to train that tight little hole of yours to take a cock for the first time." Both of our cocks throb at the same time, a slick of precum dribbling between us as I buck underneath him.

"I would say I'm sorry…" I grin and nip at his chin.

He rumbles a laugh. "But you're not?"

"Not even a little." I thrust up again, dragging the length of my cock against his, feeling the tug of pleasure deep in my gut.

He groans and meets my next thrust, his hips flexing and his cock leaking another slippery bead of precum. Tired of waiting for him to come around, I finally hook a hand behind his neck and slam my lips into his full force.

The wind rattles the windows again, but I barely hear it over the squeak of the bed and the harsh sound of our breathing as the kiss gets hotter and deeper and more desperate. Our tongues slide against each other and our hands wander all over the miles of bare skin between us. Every thrust has my toes curling, moans and whimpers falling from my lips, only to be swallowed greedily by Piston before they can escape.

Outside of the blankets, I can feel a chill in the room, but in our little bubble there's nothing but hot breath and even hotter flesh, sweat and precum adding just a little bit of slickness to ease the friction between us. Piston grunts and growls against my mouth, fucking his cock harder and faster against mine, kissing me like he can't decide if he wants to claim me or punish me for tempting him. Honestly, I'm down for either, as long as he keeps sucking my lip like that.

My balls tighten and my muscles all coil and tremble. Everything is blurry and frantic and the only word I can remember right now is Piston's name, so I murmur that over and over between hungry kisses. I can feel the pulse and throb of every vein in his cock against mine, the hardening steel as he swells with every thrust. His balls bounce against mine and I suck on the juncture of his neck.

He groans my name and shudders. I bite down a little harder, imagining the bruise I'll leave behind and savoring the salty taste of his skin against my tongue. Piston shouts and snaps his hips forward.

The wet splatter of his cum against my belly and the feeling of his whole cock seizing and spasming against mine makes me feral. I claw at his back and thrust against him wildly, his release coating my cock and easing the slide between us until the hot, tight feeling in my core finally unleashes and I follow him over the edge. My cum joins his in making a mess out of both of us, our mouths finding each other with open-mouthed, panting breaths that don't quite manage to turn into kisses this time.

We grind and thrust against each other until we're both spent, and then Piston collapses on top of me in a boneless, sticky mess.

PISTON

That wasn't how this morning was supposed to go.

I bury my face in the sweaty crook of Milo's neck, letting myself feel the slight tremble in his body from his ebbing orgasm and the heavy rise and fall of his chest against mine as he tries to catch his breath.

I need a plan if I'm going to stop fucking up. And I have to stop fucking up.

I had sex with Hero's son. I kept him in my bed and humped him like a goddamn wild animal as soon as we woke up. This isn't me. This isn't the kind of shit I do. But fuck, it feels good.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to shake off that thought. It doesn't matter how good or right it feels to have Milo's cock softening against mine. What matters is that Hero trusts me to take care of his kid, not defile him.

By the time we're both breathing normally again, I have a new plan, and it starts with putting as much space between Milo and me as possible. I'll leave the state for a few days if I have to, until I'm sure I can trust myself again.

Filling myself with resolve, I manage to crawl off of him. Better yet, I manage to not look at how thoroughly, beautifully fucked he looks as I do it. I turn my back to him as quickly as I can and snatch a pair of dirty shorts off of the floor, dragging them on and wincing at the feeling of the fabric sticking to my cum-drenched cock. I'll shower in just a minute, but first…

"Listen, I'm going to start a pot of coffee, then I need to hop in the shower and take off for the day. It's nothing personal, I just need to clear my head." I try not to listen to the rustle of the sheets and the creak of the bed as I walk over towards the window. I need to air it out in here before the smell of sex drives me insane.

"Seriously? You're going to run away from me like I'm Freddie Krueger or something?" he says blandly.

I scoff. "I'm not running." I push back the curtains and wince at the unexpected blinding brightness. I blink a few times before my brain catches up with what I'm seeing.

"Oh shit," I mutter.

"What?" Milo's bare feet pad against the cold floor as I stare out the window and try not to laugh. If I believed in fate or god or anything like that, I'd think they were fucking with me. "Oh, shit," he echoes as soon as he joins me at the window. "I guess you're not going anywhere after all."

Would it kill him to sound a little less smug?

"It was only supposed to be flurries," I say weakly.

Milo picks his phone up off the dresser and looks at it for a minute, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

"According to the weather alert, due to the unexpected amount of snow, it's going to be a couple of days before plows are able to clear it." Forget smug, he sounds downright giddy.

A battle tugs me in two. The side of me that's already trying to process the guilt of what I've done, Responsible Piston, is ready to panic, to dig out of here with his bare hands if necessary to keep from making more bad decisions. Hot, sweaty, incredibly addictive bad decisions. The other part of me, the part that has probably let Jag's influence seep in way too damn much over the past decade or so, feels just as pleased as Milo is.

We're trapped here for a couple of days with nowhere to go and no way anyone can show up unannounced. Think of all the fun we can have.

"Counteroffer." Milo brushes his lips against the back of my shoulder and caresses the skin just above the waistband of my sagging shorts. "I'll start that pot of coffee and then I'll join you in the shower."

I open my mouth to tell him no, but it comes out more of a strangled grunt.

"We have to conserve water and electricity. Who knows how long we'll be snowed in?" he says.

I have a generator in my basement, so it's not going to be an issue, but I don't tell him that. We're snowed in. It's like nature hit the pause button on real life, which means nothing counts while we're stuck here, right?

Just two more days. Just until the snow clears. I can feel my resolve to put space between us slipping away. Once the snow is cleared, I'll be firm and tell Milo this can't happen anymore. That's fair, isn't it?

Just two days.