CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Twenty-four hours earlier we staggered through Jarrod’s door and slammed up against the bookshelf and had wild and passionate sex.
This time, Jarrod was so tired he could almost not bare getting his hand up to unlock the door. He’d fallen asleep in the car as soon as he entered, and I had to shake him awake when we’d reached his flat.
He stumbled into his flat, locking the door behind us, then just dropped his clothes on the floor and crawled under the quilt.
A persistent beeping woke him later, and he rolled over to find I reaching for his mobile phone. Through the sleep-haze, Jarrod realized that it was midday. Time for me to phone the clinic.
“May I please speak to Dr. Holly?” I said, and Jarrod sat up beside me and slid an arm around his shoulders. The rigid testing had made Jarrod impervious to test-result anxiety, but it didn’t mean my gut wasn’t tied up in knots about it.
“Jude Freeman,” I said, and read out the membership number from the union card.
“Thanks,” I said, and I turned his phone off and nodded to Jarrod. “Viral studies are negative. I’m clean.”
Jarrod squeezed my shoulders. “Great news. It must relieve you.”
I looked sideways at Jarrod. “You must be too. You were the one I put at risk.”
Jarrod shrugged. “This isn’t a perfect world we live in or a plastic bubble. I don’t expect to live risk-free. I’m happy to settle for working risk-free.”
Jarrod rested his head on my shoulder and closed his eyes, and I pressed my lips against Jarrod’s forehead. “Lie down,” I said. “Go back to sleep.”
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Sometime later, Jarrod woke with a full bladder, and he slid out of bed and padded across to the bathroom.
I was still fast asleep when Jarrod came back, so Jarrod climbed back under the quilt and curled up against my back, sliding his arm around my chest and embracing me.
He closed his eyes and pressed his face against my shoulder. I smelt wonderful: warm and musky and sweaty. Jarrod could smell his own body scent too, no longer masked by shower gel and patchouli. This was what Jarrod loved best about guys: their smell, so damn sexy.
Jarrod’s fingers crinkled against my chest hair, and he licked my shoulder.
Salty and tasting of soap, it made Jarrod think of sucking my cock, and his body stirred in response.
When we’d come home, Jarrod had been so tired he hadn’t been able to imagine having sex ever again, but a few hours' sleep seemed to have fixed that, and he rocked myself up against me, pushing his cock up against the crack of my ass.
I stirred in my sleep, but didn’t wake, pressing back against Jarrod, and Jarrod’s libido surged.
Of all the crazy things he’d done in his life, falling off balconies, coming to LA with no money and no prospects, taking chances all the way, the man he was curled up against was the biggest chance he’d ever taken.
He was free-falling, and it was intoxicating.
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I stirred, making sleepy noises and reaching behind myself to grip Jarrod’s hip. “Mmm,” he said. “I haven’t woken up like this for the longest time.” I moved, gripped Jarrod’s hand and guided it lower so it cradled my cock.
Jarrod didn’t grip my cock and stroke it; instead, he let his fingers drift over the length of it, brushing and caressing and sliding.
“Tease,” I said, then Jarrod pressed his fingers more just below the head each side of the frenulum.
I groaned and said, “Hell.”
Chuckling with his open mouth pressed against my shoulder, Jarrod said, “Got to love pressure points.”
Circling his fingers now, working the pressure points, Jarrod pressed his cock harder against my ass. I could feel the tension in my body, I was almost trembling, and it was a hell of a turn-on to think he could do that to me with two fingertips, nothing else.
My head was tipped back now, exposing my neck for Jarrod to kiss, and he nudged my hair back out of the way with his nose and sucked on the skin. He’d said I couldn’t mark his skin, but no one had ever said he couldn’t bite or bruise me.
I gasped and pulled Jarrod’s hand away from my cock. “Fuck,” I said. “Stop, babe or I’m just going to come.”
“Don’t you want to come?” Jarrod asked, and I rolled over, pushing Jarrod onto his back and settling on the top of him.
“Yeah, but not for a long time,” I said, and I pressed his mouth against Jarrod’s.
Common etiquette was that you didn’t kiss someone open-mouthed as soon as you woke up, you waited until you’d brushed your teeth and got rid of early morning dragon breath; but I was kissing him long and wet and slow, the sensuous kiss that made Jarrod close his eyes and surrender.
There was dampness spreading across Jarrod’s belly too, he wasn’t sure which one of us was leaking. I lifted my weight a little, then lowered myself again, and when I did, we pressed together our cocks, and we groaned.
Jarrod had thought he knew all about sex, that there were no surprises left, but there was an intensity to this that made him ache for things he couldn’t name. What we did was simple enough, nothing he hadn’t done with more guys than he could remember now, but it did things to Jarrod, turned him on, made him hard and hungry for more.
Sparks shot through Jarrod when I dragged my cock the length of Jarrod’s, and he moaned, matching the groan I made.
“We need to have sex,” I said. “Right now.”
Another drag of skin on skin had Jarrod grinding back up against me. He would regret this friction later, at work, but right at that moment, it was heaven.
“Yeah.”
They paused, and I chewed his lip. “I’m a top,” Jarrod said. “Despite what I do for a living. We should get that sorted out.”
“What if I’m a top too?” I asked, resting his weight down on Jarrod a little more. He was solid compared to Jarrod’s slender build, but this wasn’t about size, this was about power, and the two were different.
Jarrod laughed. “You’re not a top,” he said, and he pushed at my chest. “Now get off me.”
“Is it that obvious?” I said, laughing too as he rolled off Jarrod.
Jarrod slid across me and reached for the tube of lube on the bedside table. “Yeah, you better believe it.”
He danced one lubed fingertip around my ass, making me breathe in and spread my legs wider. “See?” Jarrod whispered against my ear. “You’re such a bottom.” He eased the fingertip in, and my eyes half-closed. “You want this so bad.”
First knuckle, second knuckle. I was tight, and last time Jarrod hadn’t given me any breathing space to let go in. This time, he would do this slow and gentle, with a careful control.
When one finger was sliding in and out, Jarrod added a second finger. my eyes were closed now, and he was breathing hard. If Jarrod curled his fingers, he could blow my mind. If I sucked his cock, he’d come so, but that wasn’t what Jarrod wanted.
He reached behind me with his free hand for the condoms he’d left on the bedside table. He tore the package open with his teeth, and rolled the condom on himself one-handed, at the same time as he added a third finger.
I exhausted his energy, his back arched, head tipped back, mouth wide open making gasping moans, and it made Jarrod smile. No one who got off on being finger-fucked like this could be anything except a bottom. Not that Jarrod subscribed to rigid rules about sex roles, he knew what he preferred, and it was this.
One-handed still, he squeezed lube onto his cock and smeared it around, then knelt up between my spread thighs. I looked good like this, and Jarrod leaned down and pushed the three fingers in further and licked the length of my cock with his tongue.
Lowering himself forward, he kissed my mouth and used the hand that was thrusting into me to guide his cock in, so that for one moment the head of his cock was pushing past his fingers.
Once he was in, Jarrod splayed his hands either side of me, spreading lube and stain across the sheets, and braced myself and pushed all the way in.
I yelled, and Jarrod smiled.
“Oh yes, I’m going to. Touch yourself for me, babe,” Jarrod said, and he pulled back and thrust in again. He would fuck me for as long as he could manage, for as long as he could before his back spasmed, or he had to come.
He got the angle right on the third thrust, hitting my prostate hard, and I thrashed on the bed. Jarrod could feel my knuckles dragging across his belly as I jerked at mymcock, and the nameless hunger filled Jarrod now.
I grimaced, and Jarrod drove in hard and held still, and my knuckles dug into Jarrod’s belly as his body contracted around Jarrod’s cock. He yelled again, and then he was coming.
Jarrod couldn’t take his eyes off my face as he came, never more beautiful than when the slackness spread across his face and he smiled with an open, panting mouth.
“Was that good?” Jarrod whispered when I opened his eyes.
“Yes.”
Jarrod pulled out and and reached down to check if the condom was still on. “Want to roll on your side?” Jarrod asked. “So I can keep going.”
When Jarrod slid back in, he moaned. This was heaven. It relaxed me and still and quiet, his hand covering Jarrod’s where it rested on his hip, and Jarrod slid in and out.
He was relishing every stroke, every lingering moment of this, gliding deep into the heat and tightness of me. I wanted this to just go on and on even though the ache built in my groin.
I was sweating now, working hard rocking backward and forwards. This was an indulgence, having sex with someone after we’d come. Fuck buddies didn’t let you do this, only people who cared about you.
I was close now, and he didn’t let himself speed up. It was better like this, staying slow and deep, stretching this feeling out for as long as he could.
There came a time, far too soon, when Jarrod could no longer hold back, and ground into me hard and fast, and sudden ecstasy took me, making me shudder and cry out, then slump against my sweat-damp back. Ingrained habit made Jarrod grip the condom around the base of his cock as he pulled out, and he collapsed bonelessly back onto the bed.
I fluttered butterfly kisses across his lips, and I whispered, “Go back to sleep, we’ve got plenty of time.”
It wouldn’t have mattered if it had been time to get up, Jarrod wasn’t capable of moving anyway, and he nodded and let himself slip back to sleep.