Chapter 9
JAMES
I woke up in the middle of the night. Three in the morning, to be precise. My first thought was: Hey, half of the arcade is free-play for an hour now. Maybe I should wake Lucky.
My next thought was: What’s that around my waist?
When I shifted my head slightly, I realized there was breath on my neck. Slowly, it dawned on me whose breath it was and what, precisely, was around my waist.
I froze. Each of his slow, steady breaths crashed over my neck. Tingles of ecstasy chased their way through my body, casting goosebumps down my arms. His face was buried into the back of my neck, nuzzled there like a puppy’s. His arm lay slung over my waist, loose and limp.
Did he even know he was cuddling me? Did he think I was a big body pillow on the bed, forgetting that I had fallen asleep right next to him? It’s not like the bed was small and we had no room to spread out; we had more than plenty.
The feel of him almost holding me made my heart explode.
I couldn’t know if it was intentional or accidental.
But I didn’t want it to end.
I was terrified that any small movement of mine might make him stir awake and realize what he was doing. Not that I had any doubts that he was clearly either bi, gay, or just one of those loose straight guys who liked the adoration of gay men like me. In a way, it almost didn’t matter. I wasn’t into his sexuality.
I was into the bond. The intimacy.
The male closeness.
The dependency and the fulfillment.
The nearly microscopic smirk of approval I noticed on his face whenever I landed a decent joke.
The gamble of odd circumstances that landed both of our dice into that bed, in that unlikely, beautiful moment.
The way that whole weekend tied us together like two totally unmatched lengths of string. And the heart-fluttering feeling that, despite all our uncanny differences and oddities and rough edges, we somehow belonged tied together.
I twisted my head ever so slightly—as far as I dared without stirring him—but still couldn’t get a look. The sheets were kicked off of our bodies, all bunched up in a pile near the end of the bed. Did we get too hot during the night? Did he kick them off, or did I?
My eyes adjusted, and I could see the red shorts hugging his thighs. My shorts.
Every breath he took was an ocean pulling back. Every breath he let out was a wave crashing in, its immaterial waters rushing over the sensitive skin of my neck.
I closed my eyes.
I had never known such a high as I felt right then. Nothing in all my thirty-cough-something years of life had made me feel as wanted, as loved, as complete as I did in that very moment.
When I opened my eyes, I noticed a light coming from the nightstand on my side of the bed. I glanced over and realized it was my phone lighting up, likely from a message or notification.
That’s when it hit me: I completely forgot to cancel my plans with Duncan, and I never called my mother back to re-re-cancel.
Shit.
I figured it wasn’t much of a stretch to grab my phone and text Duncan back. I also figured he could fucking wait, considering I was swimming in a sort of muscular sweaty heaven over here. The indecision led me to half-ass reach with my free arm, which was the one still bound in towels that were no longer warm, but damp and cumbersome.
I reached.
Lucky stirred.
I settled my arm right back into place and froze.
Lucky grunted once, his breathing interrupted. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, the arm he had slung over my waist tightened, pulling me against him even more. I felt every inch of the front of his firm body as it squeezed against my backside, a tight embrace, clinging to me, the hold of someone who did not want to let go.
And that was when I noticed the brand new situation.
Something stiff pressing against the material at my ass.
Oh, my merciful, tormenting gods.
His face remained buried at my neck, his slow breaths in and out returning, crashing over me. And I was inescapably glued to him as he clung on, spooning me with literally no wiggle room.
Except for the throbbing boner in his loose shorts.
I could feel it as it flexed, resting hard and proud against my gym-short-clad butt.
Was he aware that he was flexing it in his sleep? Was he aware that it was throbbing?
And that he just ground it against my ass?
I had to believe he was asleep. There was no way he could be awake, willingly spearing my butt with his super-early-morning wood, and greedily clinging to me like his new toy. Otherwise, he was clearly an expert at the art of faking the long, deep breaths of a person adrift in a sea of dreams.
Lucky had to be asleep.
Lucas …
I had almost forgotten he told me his real name right before we fell asleep.
Not that I slept right away. I couldn’t. I was restlessly awake for a solid hour before I finally drifted off. And after getting barely an hour of sleep, I was wide awake again, thanks to Lucky and the polearm he had down there with which he was clearly and shamelessly stretching my shorts.
I wondered if maybe I should ask him whether he preferred to be called Lucky or Lucas when he woke up.
His cock flexed again, expectant, throbbing, and hard as iron.
I clamped shut my eyes and swallowed.
Fuck.
Lucky’s grip on me was like a vice. I was locked in place with no chance of squirming free, not in his strong arms, not even if I needed to take a middle-of-the-night leak.
Which was clearly what he had to do, considering the ferocity of that behemoth he had knocking on my basement door.
Literally knocking.
With every beat of his heart.
Knock, knock, knock.
Flex, flex, flex.
Throb, throb, throb.
I must have endured that mental torture for a solid fifteen minutes before he stirred again. My heart jerked excitedly as I felt him squirm a little, his boner rubbing against my ass as he shifted on the bed. The smooth material of our shorts made it very easy for his dick to slide around down there—and easier for my ass to feel every goddamned inch of it.
His arm slid down lower, holding me at the hip instead of my waist, and then his body settled, relaxing, and his slow breaths returned.
And now his hand was in my crotch.
It didn’t take much, really. His hard monster cock was pressed unknowingly against my butt, now teasing between the cheeks after his adjustment, and his hand was resting firmly on my cock, which had begun its inescapable, irreversible journey toward total and complete erect, throbbing status.
I could barely control my breathing. I felt like I was going to pass out. I had not had a hand that wasn’t my own touching me down there for years. And though it was the mindless hand of someone who was asleep, that someone happened to be a gorgeous young hunk at my back who I was trying not to be inappropriately, uncontrollably, irresistibly attracted to.
Who was also clinging to me.
And whose plush, perfect lips were basically kissing my neck as he breathed deeply in his sleep.
I can’t believe this is happening.
Then, as if my curious situation couldn’t get worse, my hard cock decided to involuntarily jump at the thought of his sexy lips.
Which meant that he just felt it.
If he was aware of anything at all.
And a tiny part of me suspected he was.
To my equal parts horror and unabashed pleasure, his hand responded. It stirred faintly—half a stroke—then stopped.
I was doing everything I could to refrain from moving.
And moaning.
And begging for more.
Then he gave me more. His clutch on my body tightened ever slightly without warning, and his hand moved yet again—another stroke, or a rub, but it was firmer.
Without my permission, my cock flexed again, throbbing.
I couldn’t help it. It was human fucking nature.
And then his hips stirred, grinding against my ass. I heard his lips part as his breath turned jagged, yet he never lifted his head from the pillow or said a word.
Holy shit. Was he dreaming something erotic? Have I somehow become the accidental object of his horny dreams?
Or did he know exactly what he was doing to me?
His fingers curled. My swollen cock was now property of his hand, even though the material of my shorts still stood in the way.
Not that the material provided much barrier. These shorts of mine were so damned thin, he might as well have been humping my bare ass with his bare dick while gripping my cock directly, skin to skin, with his mighty, demanding fist.
“Yeahhhh …” he groaned as he started to let all his uneven breaths out of his mouth.
The word tickled my ear closest to his lips.
The electric sensation that followed raced down my body like it was running away from a wildfire. Wow.
I could have come right there if he was still moving his hand. I didn’t realize that I had opened my mouth as well, unable to get enough air through just my two tiny, inadequate nostrils.
He began to hump my ass more aggressively.
His hand gripped tighter, squeezing my dick powerfully.
What the hell is he trying to do?
Now I couldn’t help but writhe against Lucky’s body. I was too worked up. I was losing my mind from the way he took control of me and claimed whatever he wanted, even in his sleep. I couldn’t free myself from his tight grasp.
And I didn’t want to.
His stroking of my cock through the meshy material of my shorts was too firm and well-paced to be accidental. He had to know what he was doing. He had to be awake in some way.
I was leaking, too. Badly. I had so much pent-up tension below my waist that it ached to come out of me.
The way Lucky moved his hand was expert, so unexpectedly nuanced and intuitive, like he was linked to my brain and knew exactly what I wanted.
And it wasn’t like I needed an interpreter to know what he wanted, either, whether in his dreams or otherwise. He might as well have been kneading a metal rolling pin against my ass instead of his cock and I wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. He wanted in. He was hungry. He had been kept waiting long enough.
So had I.
The pace of his hand increased. I was fast approaching the point of no return. The intensity and speed of his humping my ass increased too until my whole body was rocking.
He and I both, as one, rocking, moving.
His breaths turned vocal. “Ughnn …” He groaned sleepily into my ear. “Fuuuck …”
All I did was breathe, sink into his muscular hold, and float.
I reached the edge. And then exploded.
“Oh, God, God …” I finally let out as I came, shot after shot, filling my underwear. My eyes rocked back as I flew over the sky, soaring, soaring.
His hand didn’t stop.
I reached down to grab hold of his fist, since my cock was reaching that sensitive spot when it was no longer pleasurable to stroke. I couldn’t free myself, and Lucky was clearly having too much fun jerking my cock—or whoever’s—in his lusty dreams while humping my ass—or whoever’s. I just had to bear it, like a price for only a second ago feeling so good.
And then he came.
Desperate breaths exploded into my ear as he grunted, clung even tighter to me, and let it all out. As he did, he stopped stroking me and, instead, simply squeezed with all his might.
I gritted my teeth and whimpered out, half in pain, half in pleasure.
Then he relaxed, the weight of his body pressing against me as his hand and his hips ceased movement. A calm breath rushed over my neck, and then all I knew was the quiet push and pull of air as Lucky returned himself to sleep.
I stared ahead, wide-eyed, at the window where a spread of city lights and distant stars watched over us. My wet shorts grew cold. His hand remained there, like a big five-headed dog guarding its treasure.
And I was left even more confused than before. Was he really dreaming? Was he awake? The result was the same, I supposed: He owned me, he held me like his property, and he took me in every way that strange, otherworldly night.