I’ve been up for a while on my phone, signing work orders for the next phase of the build, finalizing a contract with my billionaire contact in Manhattan to hunt down some low-level traffickers, and transferring the donations from the barn-raising directly into the therapy center’s account.

Pretty standard stuff, except that approximately every thirty seconds, my brain sends me pictures from last night. The surprised look in his expressive eyes when I went in for the do-over, the joyful, sensual kiss that was perfect in a way you can’t practice for or perfect. The taste of Justin’s cock, the thrill of jacking off onto his chest. The way he greedily sucked the cum off my fingers. The deep, abiding satisfaction of having him fall asleep in my arms.

Shiver.

I mean, I should be having a what-the-actual-fuck moment, shouldn’t I?

I glance over at Justin, still in my bed, asleep, wrapped entirely around my pillow, and my mouth goes dry as I linger on his various hard and soft edges.

I love the amount of hair he has on his body. He’s not a fur-bearing mammal by any stretch of the imagination, but the dark body hair emphasizes his lean muscles, and unlike me, he’s even got a little fuzz on his pale ass, some of it peeking out from between his ass cheeks.

I wonder how it would feel under my tongue.

His face is surprisingly sweet, the stress that always wrinkles his brow completely gone. Thinking back to high school, I don’t know if I ever saw him fully relaxed until this moment.

Yeah, no regrets, awkwardness, or WTAFs to be found anywhere.

I did shock myself last night. Not by the sex, if I’m honest. It was the fact that I wanted him in my bed, wanted to make him come, and then wanted to make him stay. For the life of me, I can’t figure out which I wanted more.

Holding him didn’t feel like tangling with an enemy. It felt like I’d filled an aching need I didn’t know I had. Even better was the middle of the night switch when he held me. I never think of him as much bigger than me, but his limbs are longer, and his big spoon game is pretty on point.

Oh my God, Wills. You are pathetic.

Erik is usually up by now, but I didn’t hear him come in last night, and the house is quiet. I pick up my cell phone, no messages.

Me: Where you at?

Erik: Somewhere a little naughty.

Me: Wait. Does this mean we both got laid last night?

Erik: No comment.

Erik: Wait…

Erik: Are you serious?

Me: Yes?

Erik: *snorts*

Erik: Goddammit. I owe Anders five dollars.

Me: Y’all made bets on me giving Justin a blowjob?

Erik: Aaand I just made five dollars back. Thank you, you orally fixated bastard.

Me: Kill me now.

Erik: Sorry, I don’t take requests.

Me: Answer me this: did you fuck Nacho in the restroom at the Broken Oak?

Erik: I’m sorry, something seems to be wrong with the line.

Erik: *Crackle noises*

Me: You asshole. I spilled.

Erik: Fine. Oliver invited Nacho and me over to his house, and we had fun with his little triad.

Me: What?!

Erik: Then the ranch threesome showed up and…yeah.

I do a quick count on my fingers…

Me: That’s eight people.

Erik: Yep.

Erik: So, no. I did not fuck Nacho in the restroom at the Broken Oak.

Erik: I did, however, DP Colt with Warwick on Oliver’s balcony.

Me: I have so many regrets right now.

Erik: Not as much as you regret having to adjust your parents’ Apple TV.

Me: Great. Now I’m having flashbacks of the Tasting Room.

Erik: You…bastard.

Me: Play stupid games, win stupid prizes

Erik: <middle finger emoji>

“What are you laughing at? You’re shaking the bed,” Justin asks, sleepily looking up at me. He blinks a few times, then bites his lip. “Oh…I like your glasses.”

I adjust the old-school black frames, enjoying the flush on his pale chest as I lean in and place a soft kiss on his lips.

“Turns out Erik didn’t come home last night.”

He sits up against the headboard, grinning. “Wait…but did they at least fuck at the Broken Oak?”

“Uh, no.”

“So…”

“I guess they sorta fell face first into an orgy at Oliver’s house.”

Justin laughs, and I get sidetracked by the sweetness of his face. After a few dopey, kiss-filled moments, I remember I needed to ask him something.

“I have a question.”

“Ask me anything.”

“You really had a crush on me in high school?”

Heat flames his cheeks. “Yes. Of course I did. Middle school too.”

“So—little thirteen-year-old Justin Jennings really did masturbate to the thought of me?”

He groans, burying his face in his hands.

I laugh, loving this a little too much. “That’s not a no.”

“I already told you that!”

“Okay. But now tell me: between the parking lot and last night, how many items did we check off your little teenage wish list?”

He scrunches his eyes shut, adorable as all get out. “Almost all of them.”

“Really? What am I missing?”

“Nothing. I mean…I liked the rough stuff from the parking lot but wouldn’t hate something a little slower. And to be fair, rimming wasn’t in my vocabulary back then.”

I chew the inside of my cheek. “I’ll have to rectify that, and soon. You have a delicious ass.”

“Jesus.”

He covers his face again, so I kiss his fingers until he moves them out of the way.

“You’re very cute and distracting in the morning,” I observe, messing up his hair.

“Oh no,” he whispers, scandalized as he brings a hand to his chest. “You’re a morning person.”

“Guilty as charged. I’d love to show you the benefits of having a morning person in your bed, but give me a sec, I gotta pee.”

I roll out of bed, naked, and may or may not saunter on my way to the bathroom. I look back as I open the door, and his eyes are definitely glued to my ass. I cock my hip, and his eyes fly up to mine, his cheeks reddening.

“Gotcha.”

When I’m done, I wash my hands, pop in my contacts, and brush my teeth, then shiver when Justin comes up behind me and plasters his warm body against mine.

“Mm. You feel good,” I say, sneaking my hand around his head, pulling him down for a quick peck.

I then tilt my head to the side, and he takes up the invitation, laying soft, warm kisses down my neck.

After not nearly enough minutes doing that, he nuzzles my ear and asks, “Can I get a little bit of that toothpaste?”

Justin holds out his finger, and I press a little bead of toothpaste along the tip. He rubs the paste over his teeth and tongue, then rinses, swishing before spitting.

I turn and grab his hips as he wipes his mouth on the hand towel, pulling his warm naked body toward mine. I tip up my mouth, and he smiles into the kiss, drifting his hands over the curve of my ass.

“Don’t know about you, but I could use another shower after last night,” he whispers, nipping at my earlobe.

I kiss his chin, then open the shower curtain and turn the water to hot. We resume making out until the steam fills the shower.

I follow Justin into the shower and…I can’t explain it, but everything about this feels good. Stepping under the pounding water, we come together, kissing, running our hands up and down each other’s bodies.

“I want to clean you up and then get you back into the bed,” I whisper, biting his shoulder.

He nods and grabs the shampoo. We’re quick about shampooing our hair, then linger to touch and stroke, edging each other repeatedly.

I nearly lose it when he tickles under my balls while gently stroking the head of my cock, but I manage to keep it together. Sorta.

Finally, we rinse and do the bare minimum of drying before chasing each other into the bedroom.

Grabbing him, I toss him onto the bed, laughing at his feigned protest.

“All fours,” I command, deepening my voice.

He obeys and…yes.

“Damn, Justin. All that outdoor work has done wonders for your ass.”

He wiggles his pale butt at me, and as much as I want to bury myself in it, I take a page from his high school fantasy playbook.

“Spread your legs.”

He looks back, eyes wide. I raise my brow, and his smile takes over his face. He then does as asked, revealing his pale, hairy asshole.

Grinning, I pull apart his cheeks for a better look. He shifts his hips, moaning for me to hurry up. Having played with him long enough, I slowly lick him from his balls to the top of his crack and back again, over and over, swirling his hole as I do.

“Oh my God,” he moans, pounding the bed as he pushes back against my tongue.

Grabbing my lube, I carefully pull his cock between his legs, stroking it with a milking motion as I once again attack the sensitive furl of skin.

He gets loud again, and I pull away, lightening my touch, barely holding his cock between two fingers.

“Stop torturing me.”

“I haven’t even begun to torture you,” I say, biting into the under-shelf of his ass.

He jumps, startled by the sharp bite, then settles in with a moan.

“You like that?” I ask, smiling against his other cheek.

“Mm-hmm.” He nods into his pillow, swaying his hips.

I bite his other cheek, loving the little jump and moan.

“Now that makes me curious. What else do you like? Have you ever been spanked?”

His breaths come in hot and heavy, and he gives me two thumbs-up from his very compromised position. Jesus, that turns me the fuck on. I shuffle to the side and land a perfect smack right where ass and thigh meet.

“Ooh, that stings!” he whines.

“Too much?”

He shakes his head. “Never.”

Giving him no time to think, I smack his other cheek in the same location. His cock immediately drools, so I detour for a quick taste before I continue.

Grabbing his cheeks, I spread them again and dive in, licking roughly at the sensitive skin while teasingly stroking him. Not quite firm enough to let him come.

He lets out a little sound of protest, and I lay another open-handed smack on his cheek. Followed immediately by my mouth on his hole and my hand on his cock.

I go between the two until he’s practically sobbing and dripping with need while I’m hard as a rock from his sounds. When I can’t stand it another second, I push aside one cheek while taking myself in hand, deciding whether I can hold back enough to fuck him or if I need to see my cum on his skin.

I’m too far gone, and it feels too good to see him spread out like this for me. Spitting on my cock, I tighten my grip, grunting in time with my strokes.

He glances back, moaning. “Yes, come all over me. Please.”

His begging look sends me stuttering and cursing over the edge. I glaze his reddened ass cheeks with streaks of cum, the powerful, clenching orgasm making my knees wobble. God, I love how it looks as my cum drips down his crack.

I bet it’d look beautiful dripping out of his hole.

Dropping to my knees, I spit on him and start to stroke him with purpose, squeezing tightly as I suck at his balls and bury my face in his ass. His voice pitches up, and I stroke and lick him through it. His muscles clench under my tongue, and I pull back just enough to watch the pulsing of his undercarriage as I make him come with my hand.

Fuck. I love everything—his reddened skin, the smears of cum everywhere, his spent balls, his vulnerable position—all of it.

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