Prologue
SIX MONTHS EARLIER
Austin
My phone sounds with an alert, a new message from Grindr, just as I’m stepping into my apartment and kicking off my work shoes. Jamming my hand into my pocket, I yank my phone out in a hurry, a smile already starting on my lips, hoping like hell this will be a new message from the guy I talked to last night—Oliver.
Normally, I don’t think of Oliver as a particularly sexy name, but his pictures sure were hot as fuck, which is why I messaged him. After some serious flirting last night, I was hoping to close the deal, but he told me it wasn’t a good night. For any other guy that would’ve made me lose interest, move on to find someone else to hook up with, but something about Oliver intrigued me from the first message when he asked what my dick looked like, and then told me not to send a pic, but to describe it to him. Who does that? It was weird as hell, and if I’m being honest, kind of hot.
My smile grows even wider when I see that the message is indeed from him. Two simple words that have my cock growing hard and tenting my suit pants. Come over?
Fuck yes, I type back. Address?
I chew on my bottom lip while I wait for his response to appear, afraid he’ll change his mind until I have an address to attach to the invitation. When it comes through, I tell him I’ll be there in half an hour and then drop my phone on the coffee table, hurrying to my bedroom to get changed.
Dropping my pants, I run my hand over my hard length, squeezing just a little, only a quick tease. After all the verbal foreplay last night, he did eventually send me a picture of his perky little ass, framed nicely in a lacy jock strap. My cock jerks, and a dribble of precum oozes from my slit at the memory. I’m not ashamed to admit I jerked off hard to that picture last night.
With all my work clothes in my hamper, I tug on my favorite soft, red t-shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans. It’s my sure thing outfit, as opposed to my trolling for ass outfit I reserve for the clubs.
A quick stop in the bathroom to freshen my deodorant and brush my teeth and I’m ready to go. My phone shows one more message from Oliver; this one says Can’t wait followed by a series of emojis— tongue, peach, eggplant, water droplets. I chuckle and shake my head in spite of how much those stupid little cartoon images pique my anticipation.
When I get in my car, I pull up my playlist entitled “Fuck Songs” and “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails blares from my speakers within seconds. Reaching down, I adjust my erection and then open my glove compartment to pull out the condoms and lube I keep stashed there, tossing them on the passenger seat so I won’t forget them when I go inside. I’m sure Oliver has supplies since he offered to host, but better safe than sorry. Nothing is worse than having to stop right when things are getting good to run out to your car for supplies.
Oliver’s apartment isn’t far from mine, but it is in a considerably worse part of town. I didn’t ask what he did for a living or anything because that would be way more than I need to know about a Grindr hookup, but now I’m a little curious. I shake that off quickly, I don’t need to be curious about anything other than how he likes to fuck. I learned my lesson about setting yourself up for heartbreak years ago, and it’s not a lesson I’m eager to repeat anytime soon. Casual is better, safer.
I double check Oliver’s message for his apartment number and buzz to be let in.
“Austin?” a voice crackles over the intercom, sweet and a little husky, perfectly in line with the pictures of him. My favorite one on his profile is one where he looked like he just woke up, blond hair sticking up in all directions, his eyelids a little droopy, his pretty pink lips parted and moist. I vibrate with anticipation, grabbing the handle as soon as I hear the click of it unlocking.
Jogging up the steps to the second floor, I find Oliver standing in the doorway of the second apartment on the left with that same sleepy smile and messy hair, and a smear of blue paint on his cheek. He’s shorter than he looked in his pictures, petite really, and sexy as fuck. My eyes flick down, wondering if he’s wearing those lacy underwear again, and I notice the bulge in the front of his jeans that matches mine.
“Hi,” he says with a playful lilt in his voice, forcing me to drag my gaze back up, at least long enough to walk inside.
“You have, um—” I point at his cheek, and he lifts his hand up to wipe at the spot I’m indicating.
“Oh, sorry, I was painting. It always makes me horny as fuck,” he confesses, waving me inside and shutting the door behind me.
His apartment doesn’t look much nicer from the inside than it did from the outside—the paint is old and dingy, the linoleum floor is bubbled and peeling up in certain spots, and all his furniture is a ragged mishmash that looks like he either got them all from Goodwill or the garbage. The scent of weed and paint hang heavy in the air. But in spite of all that, there is a certain charm to the place.
As I take the place in, my eyes land on the canvas in the center of the living room. It must be what he was working on before I showed up. I take a step closer, enthralled by the painting instantly.
“You’re an artist?” I ask stupidly.
“I am.” He follows me into the living room.
Taking a look closer at the painting, two bodies come into view, writhing together in a colorful blur.
“That’s not art, it’s sex,” I accuse with amusement.
“Art is sex, and sex is art,” he corrects.
“Is it?” I tear my eyes from the canvas to look at Oliver. He nods, taking a step closer, pressing his small, slender body against me.
“The shapes our bodies make, all the lines and shadows, it’s beautiful. And that moment, that single moment when you’re at your most alive, when it’s instantly clear that this is the meaning of life, to feel”—he lets the sentence, the image, hang in the air for a moment—“that moment is where art comes from.”
I swallow, suddenly aware that I may be in slightly over my head with Oliver and unwilling to do a damn thing to put the brakes on at this point.
“I’m not sure I understand; I may need you to show me,” I tease, my voice going deep and gravelly.
Oliver throws his head back and laughs, his body vibrating against me in an addicting way.
“Let’s go then.” He gestures to the hallway a few feet away, and I lead the way.
His bedroom is much like the rest of his apartment, in need of some work, but with a personality of its own. His bed sits on the floor rather than up on a bed frame, but the sheets look clean enough. There’s a milk crate next to the bed with a lamp perched on it, along with a joint and a lighter.
“You want?” he asks, picking up the joint and placing it between his lips. The pucker of those bowed lips fills my mind with filthy thoughts.
I haven’t smoked weed since college, but not because I have anything against it. Mainly, I only smoked friend’s weed back then, and I wouldn’t have the first clue where to buy my own even if I wanted to. After taking a long inhale, he holds it out to me, his eyebrows raised, and I gingerly take it from him. Feeling like a complete nerd, I place it between my lips and clumsily light it, coughing almost as soon as the smoke fills my lungs, causing my throat to burn like hell.
Oliver laughs at me, a fond expression on his face, taking the joint back and taking another toke of his own. This time, instead of handing it back to me, he presses close again, tilting his head up like he’s asking permission for a kiss. I bend close, putting my hands on the small of his back to draw him near, our hard cocks pressing together and our noses bumping. I part my lips, and his brush mine as he lets smoke billow into my mouth, sweet and a little musky. I’m not sure if it’s the pot or the man himself that has my head swimming.
When the smoke dissipates, he flicks his tongue out and grazes it along my bottom lip, his eyes shining playfully. Feeling bold and horny as fuck with his cute little body in my arms and the bed less than a foot away, I grab Oliver by the back of his neck and smash our lips together.
He moans into my mouth, his tongue tasting like weed and cherries as he licks his way inside, his hands bunching the front of my shirt as he hangs on tight. Slipping my hands under his shirt, I run them up the silky smooth skin of his back and then back down until I cup his ass. Our cocks grind together as the kiss grows hungrier.
“Clothes off,” Oliver demands against my lips, reaching for the hem of my shirt and tugging it up, forcing our mouths to part so he can pull it over my head. I do the same to his, mesmerized as I take in the hard lines of his body. My eyes snag on a purple and silver belly button ring glistening at his navel.
“That’s hot,” I murmur, running my index finger from his clavicle down the center of his chest to the jewelry.
“Yeah? Guess what else I have pierced,” he says, waggling his eyebrows as he reaches for the button on his jeans.
“Shit, seriously?” I hurry to help him get his pants down, eager to see as he laughs and wiggles in my grasp. But as soon as his jeans are around his ankles, I forget about piercings all together because my brain stutters to a halt at the sight of his hard cock, barely contained in the straining white lace of his underwear.
Peach skin peeks out through the fabric, and at the tip, I can see a glint of metal. My cock spasms in the confines of my jeans, and I’m helpless to do anything other than fall at Oliver’s feet, in desperate need for a closer look and the chance to get him in my mouth.
“This is so fucking hot,” I rumble, brushing my nose against the hard rod of arousal threatening to burst through the delicate fabric.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, running his fingers through my hair and canting his hips. Opening my mouth, I drag my tongue along the rough lace, getting the barest flavors of salty skin.
“Can I suck you?” I ask, and Oliver grunts and nods, yanking his underwear down, his cock bobbing free in front of my face. His dick fits him perfectly, a little slim and strangely pretty for a cock. I’ve never been with a guy with his dick pierced, so I’m eager to play with it.
With my hand around his base, I flick my tongue against the silver ring that goes through his slit and the underside of the head of his cock. He gasps and tightens his fingers in my hair. Intrigued by his response, I do it again, flicking it a little harder this time, earning a full body shiver from him. Wrapping my lips around him, I continue to flick and lick the ring while I suck, drawing grunts and whimpers from Oliver that settle in my balls and heat the blood in my veins.
“I want to fuck,” he rasps, tugging at my hair to pull me off his cock. “Or you can fuck me, I don’t care.”
I release him from my mouth with a pop.
“I’ve been dreaming about being buried in that ass since you sent that picture last night,” I tell him, getting to my feet and pulling the lube and a couple of condoms out of my pocket to toss on the bed before yanking my pants and underwear down unceremoniously. Grabbing Oliver around the waist, I pick him up and toss him onto the bed, covering him with my body before he stops bouncing.
Our flesh almost seems to spark with electricity everywhere we touch, sliding against each other with our legs tangled, our lips moving in tandem, our cocks fucking against each other in uncoordinated thrusts. Oliver digs his fingers into my shoulder blades, arching his back and feeding me desperate sounds that taste sweeter than sugar on my tongue.
When one of his hands disappears, I crack one eye open to see what he’s doing and find him groping blindly for the supplies I tossed on the bed. When his hand finally lands on the lube, he wraps his fingers around it and holds it out to me, still writhing underneath me as he does.
“Inside. Now,” he pants. “I was fingering myself before I messaged you, so don’t bother with prep.”
I groan at the visual of Oliver hard and naked in his bed earlier today, the sheets damp with sweat and lube as he fingers himself, frustrated that it’s not enough before texting me to come over and fill him up right, give him what he was really craving.
I pull back enough to grab one of the condoms, tearing it open and rolling it down my cock, then taking the lube from him and coating myself.
“Want me like this or should I flip over?”
“This is fine,” I grunt, grabbing his hips to angle him better and then lining up my cock with his hole and pressing gently until I slip inside.
Oliver throws his head back, his chest heaving as his teeth dig into his lush bottom lip, and a beautiful blush creeps up his throat and over his face. His hands grip my biceps tight, his legs hooked around my hips as I rock into him carefully until I can feel his channel relaxing around me, sucking me in deeper.
A hot tingle buzzes over my cock and balls. I forgot how good pot makes sex feel, even if I only had a little, everything feels so much more.
“You don’t have to be careful with me; I like it hard,” Oliver assures me, grabbing my ass with one hand and encouraging me to stop being gentle and start fucking him.
Drawing back until only the tip is inside him, I snap my hips forward, slamming deep and drawing a moan from both of us, a jolt of pleasure rushing up my spine and tightening my balls.
“Fuck yeah, more,” he demands, digging his fingers harder into my ass cheek and my arm.
I rut into him hard and fast with a kind of animal lust I didn’t know I possessed, our cries of pleasure reverberating off the walls and the springs of the bed creaking with effort.
His hole pulses and grips my cock, his hips moving in time with my thrusts, helping me get deeper with each punishing fuck into him.
With what seems to be a lot of effort, his opens his eyes and holds my gaze.
“Do you see the art?” he asks breathlessly. “The colors? The shadows?” he puffs out, his muscles tightening and his blush deepening as his cock grows stiffer where it rubs against my abs. “So close, the perfect…perfect…” A high-pitched keen falls from his lips, and his ass clamps tight around my cock, and then hot cum spurts against my stomach. The pulsing of his channel pushes me over the edge, and I cry out as I fill the condom, my hips pressed flush against his ass and my cock pumping as his inner muscles milk every drop from my balls.
I sag against him, smearing his release all over both of us as I bury my nose against his throat for a few seconds, enjoying the buzz of happy chemicals in my brain and the aftershocks of my orgasm before pulling out and removing the condom.
“You can toss that in the garbage in my bathroom. Don’t flush it; the landlord yelled at me about that before.”
“Got it.” I tie it off, walking to the bathroom to toss it and staying a minute to splash some cold water on my face. Grabbing a hand towel, I wipe the cum off my stomach and then head back into his bedroom.
With the sex high simmering, I shuffle on my feet next to the bed where Oliver is laying in the same position I left him in, a satisfied smirk on his now kiss swollen lips.
“So, I guess I’ll go,” I conclude awkwardly.
“Cool. Thanks, that was the best fuck I’ve had in a while.”
I preen a little as I pull my pants back on.
“Same.”
“Well, if you ever want a repeat, you know where to find me,” he offers with a yawn before rolling over with his back toward me and seeming to fall asleep.
A repeat? My gut clenches at the idea. Maybe if the sex had been about half as good, I could risk it, but this was too much, too tempting. As much as I’d like to, I know I won’t be seeing Oliver again.