Chapter 4
Austin
We stumble into my apartment, our lips everywhere, licking and kissing—mouths, necks, chins, any spare bit of skin either of us can find. Our hands fumble with clothing, both our own and each other’s, desperate to be naked.
Oliver nearly trips as he kicks his pants off, giggling and grabbing my shoulder for balance.
“How drunk are you?” I ask, my hands stilling as I try to remember how many drinks he ended up having. I stopped after two glasses of wine, but he had a full glass the entire night.
“Pretty drunk, but not too much to know I want this. I want you. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head for months.”
Something hot washes over me at his declaration, and for a few seconds, it seems epically stupid that I was resisting contacting him when we were both still thinking about each other. I know I had a good reason for it, but right now I can’t for the life of me remember what it was.
My gaze drops, landing on his lace jock, again straining against his fully hard cock. My breath heaving in my chest, I hurry to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt so I can run my hands down his chest and stomach, stopping to play with his belly button ring, making him giggle again and squirm. His fingers fumble with my tie and then the buttons on my shirt while my hands wander.
"I never knew I had a thing for a man in lace before you."
He chuckles. "Glad you like it."
As soon as we’re both naked—aside from Oliver’s jock—I lift him into my arms and kiss him desperately, licking deep into his mouth. His lace covered cock rubs against my stomach, the silver ring through the tip just barely visible. Pressing Oliver’s back against the door, the tip of my erection bumps against the curve of his ass as we kiss.
“Condom,” Oliver murmurs, pushing against my shoulder, breaking through the lust fog.
“Yeah,” I agree, setting him on his feet so I can get what I need. “Don’t move.”
I hurry to my room and snatch the supplies out of my nightstand. When I return, I find Oliver bent slightly over with one hand on the door while the other teases his hole.
“Can I rim you?”
He looks at me over his shoulder, a lazy smile spreading across his pretty lips. “Please.”
Dropping the condom and lube on the floor, I fall to my knees behind him, taking his perfectly round globes in each hand and spreading him wide, gazing hungrily at his needy hole, twitching to be filled.
I lick a long stripe from his balls all the way up his crack. Then another. And another. Oliver’s gasps and moans fill the air as he pushes back, seeking more with each lick until he’s dripping with my spit, and his pucker is pliant under my tongue. I shove my tongue inside him and go nearly insane from the way he cries out, begging for my fingers, for my cock, for me to do something to make him come.
I reach for the condom on the floor with one hand, reluctantly pulling away when I realize it’s going to take more than one hand to get it open. Once I’m suited up, I grab the lube and squirt a generous amount onto my fingers so I can make sure Oliver is ready for me. He takes two fingers easily, his ass pulsing hot and tight around them as he thrusts and swivels his hips.
I’ve never been with anyone as eager as Oliver, and fuck if that isn’t the biggest turn on I can imagine.
“I’m good, just fuck me already,” he pants.
I tug my fingers out and wipe the excess lube on my cock as I stand up and line myself up behind him. He has both hands braced on the wall as I enter him in a smooth motion.
The heat of his channel grips me tight, his ass cheeks pressed against me. Fuck my life, it’s even better than I remembered, which means my theory about the weed altering my memories is a bust.
“Jesus, stop making me wait and fuck me already,” Oliver whines.
“God, you’re a bossy bottom,” I tease, pulling out and slamming back in hard enough that whatever comeback he was about to lob is lost on a low moan.
Just like last time, I quickly get lost in the sensation of fucking him hard and fast, but it’s not enough. I need more.
I pull out and Oliver makes a sound of protest but quiets as soon as I spin him around and hoist him into my arms. Pressing him against the door again as he wraps his legs around my waist, I sink into him again, this time catching his moan in my mouth and devouring it.
The weight of him in my arms as I fuck into him, the salty taste of sweat on his lips, the slapping sound of skin on skin, and our symphony of moans all have my senses overloading. My name falls from Oliver’s lips over and over, making me feel like a god as I fuck him into the door as it rattles on its frame.
His lacy jockstrap is still on, and every thrust has the tip of his cock just peeking out beneath the waistband, his piercing catching the dim light and glistening with precum.
“Fuck, Austin, I’m…I’m …ungh,” Oliver cries out, the tight grip of his ass spasming around my cock and dragging me over the edge with him in a hot wave of pleasure. The sight of his jock becoming soaked through with his cum drives me wild as I fuck him through both our orgasms, my knees growing weaker with each pulsing thrust that fills the condom with more of my release until I have no choice but to lower us both to the floor before I collapse.
Oliver falls against my chest, my cock slipping out of his ass as he nuzzles his face into my throat.
“Hot damn, I thought I had to be overblowing our chemistry in my mind,” he murmurs before climbing off me and stripping out of his jock. “Mind if I wash these in your sink really quick? If the cum dries, they’ll be ruined. I learned that the hard way.”
“Yeah, go ahead.” I wave him in the direction of the bathroom, still trying to catch my breath and get my head back on straight.
Removing the condom, I manage to get to my unsteady legs and make my way to the kitchen to toss it in the trash, washing my hands in the sink and getting a glass of water to wash the ass taste out of my mouth. It’s all well and good in the heat of the moment, but afterward, it’s not so great.
Soft footfalls behind me alert me to Oliver’s presence. I turn around with my water in hand to find him fully dressed, if still somewhat disheveled with his hair sticking up at odd angles and whisker burn reddening his chin and throat. I swallow down the possessive flare that heats my chest.
“I guess I should get going,” he says, and I frown.
“You had too much to drink, babe. Sleep here tonight,” I suggest before I can think the words through. When he doesn’t respond right away, I hurry to offer him another out that doesn’t require him driving. “Or I could drive you home and we can figure out getting your car back to you tomorrow.”
“No, that’s okay, I’ll stay.”
With the matter decided, awkwardness settles over us.
“Do you want something to eat or drink?” I offer.
“Some water would be great.”
I grab a second glass from my cupboard and fill it to hand to Oliver.
“So…” I say, watching him take a sip of his water, eyes wandering around the kitchen just for something to do.
“So…” he agrees with an uncomfortable laugh.
“This shouldn’t be so weird, right? I was licking your ass twenty minutes ago; what’s left to feel awkward about?”
“I’m guessing we’re both probably a little out of practice at making small talk with hookups?”
“Definitely,” I agree. “Want to watch a movie or something? Or we could just go to bed?”
“A movie sounds good, but I may fall asleep during. Sex always knocks me out.”
“Okay. Let me get you something more comfortable you can wear instead of your suit pants, and then we can pick something.”
Oliver nods and follows me to my bedroom. It’s a strange feeling having someone I just fucked hanging around. It’s why I prefer to go to their place when I can: much less potential for awkwardness. But, strangely enough, I also find myself liking the idea of Oliver still being here. Maybe it was the emotional upheaval of today, or the bonding chemicals still buzzing in my brain from our recent fuck, either way it’s not so bad.
Oliver
My eyes feel puffy as I blink them open in the dim light of morning. It takes my fuzzy morning brain a moment to understand the weight of an arm around my waist and the strange bedroom I seem to find myself in. The taste of stale alcohol and sex on my tongue helps me fill in the blanks.
Austin gives a little snore, his hot breath puffing against the back of my neck and his morning wood pressing against my ass.
It had been a little weird after we fucked last night, both of us clearly not used to hanging out with our tricks once the deed was done. But once we’d settled on the couch and agreed to watch the most recent episode of Better Call Saul on his Amazon account, things felt less awkward.
When we climbed into bed, things were a little off kilter again, neither of us sure how much space to give the other or if we were supposed to say anything or just go straight to sleep. Luckily, I was tired enough that the strangeness didn’t last long because I passed the fuck out. But now, with the cold light of morning streaming through the windows and all of our lust haze from last night faded, it’ll probably be best to avoid any morning after weirdness by slipping out before he’s awake.
Austin grunts and tightens his grip when I try to quietly wiggle away but releases me after a few seconds, rolling the other way, leaving me to slide out from under the covers and quickly gather my clothes. I get dressed in the living room, folding the pajamas he lent me and leaving them on the kitchen table. For a moment I consider whether I should leave him a note, but I can’t decide what it would say. Thank you? Message me if you want to hook up again? I already offered that and he blew me off. Maybe he’ll take me up on it this time, maybe not, but I’m not going to make myself look desperate or clingy.
I close the door behind me with a soft click and make my way down to my car, second-guessing my decision not to leave a note the entire way.
In my car, I slump over the steering wheel for a minute, breathing deeply and trying to center myself. I need to stop thinking about Austin and focus on something else. So my new mission becomes getting something greasy to eat to soak up this hangover and then going home to crawl into my own bed and sleep away these feelings. When I wake up, I’ll paint and bleed anything that’s left over onto my canvas so I can be rid of it. Even if that plan hasn’t worked over the last six months, it’s resulted in some of my best work to date, so it’s worth a try. And if Austin happens to contact me again, great. If not, I’ll keep living my life just like I always have.