He's like missing piece of my puzzle that i tried to deny forming the truth of myself. He came like a lightning volt, awakening that part of me i thought I never had..... or ever will be.
Disc: This is purely fictional. Got inspired by a book that...
The way I wanted him. The way I needed him. The way I'd lain awake for hours thinking of him and promising myself I'd stay away.
It was madness that had me clutching at the sheets, as if they'd anchor me to the bed. It was madness that had me growing hard as I listened to him take a shower. It was madness that had me getting out of bed, opening my bedroom door, moving through the darkness like a ghost. It was madness telling me to knock, to seek out the truth, to know for sure.
What else could it be? When I'd left Jaden's earlier, I'd been resolute—nothing good could come of being with Travis again. Nothing.
And yet here I was at his bedroom door, my heart pounding, my adrenaline rushing, my cock aching with need.
He opened it.
Rushing forward, I grabbed his head and brought my face close to his. "I can't forget it," I growled. "And I don't fucking want to."
Then I savagely claimed his mouth with mine, plunging my tongue between his full, firm lips, desperate to get inside him any way I could. He kissed me back just as hard, his hands stealing to my waist, sliding around to my lower back. It drove me crazy to think of his hands on my skin—strong, solid, masculine hands that would grab and pull and punish.
"Goddamn you," I whispered, walking him deeper into the room. "Goddamn you for doing this to me." Grabbing one of his hands, I put it over my cock, painfully hard and thick inside my pants. "Goddamn you for making me want more."
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"Let me give it to you." He tried to reach inside my pants, but I pushed his hand away.
"No. Not this time." There were things I wanted, and if I let Travis get his hands and mouth on me, this would be over before it began. I wanted him to feel exposed this time. "I want to see you naked."
He shoved down the boxer briefs he wore and stepped out of them. Immediately I put my hand on his cock, groaning at the hot, heavy length of it. He got even harder as I stroked him, and feeling him swell and surge inside my fist had blood pounding through me. He moved closer to me, his mouth traveling down my neck, his tongue warm and wet on my throat. I gripped him tighter, pulled at him faster.
When he moaned, I felt the sound move through my body, and all of me vibrated with wanting him, as if my veins were live wires.
"What else?" He slipped his fingertips inside the waist of my pants. "What else do you want?"
"I want to touch you. Everywhere." I let my hands roam over hard muscle and hot skin, barely suppressing the animal urge inside me to throw him on the bed and satisfy this fucking insatiable hunger gnawing at my insides. I dragged my lips and teeth and tongue over him, kissing his collarbone, biting his shoulder, licking his neck. I couldn't get enough of the way he smelled—no flowery perfumes, no fruity lotions, nothing false or fake or feminine. Just the clean, masculine scent of soap and skin.
He untied the drawstring of my pants, and they pooled at my feet. His mouth sought mine as his hands slid down over my ass. As his tongue stroked between my lips, he squeezed my flesh and pulled me against him, trapping our erections between us. My breath caught, a growl rumbling deep in my chest as he rocked his hips, rubbing his bare cock against mine. I slid my hands up his chest, over his shoulders, into his hair. The friction between us had my thigh muscles clenching, a firestorm building deep in the center of my body.
My God, was this really happening? I had to see it. Breaking the kiss, I looked down at the juncture where our bodies touched. It fascinated me—two male torsos, tight and firm and lined with muscle and veins; two thick, hard cocks standing at attention, darker than the skin on our abdomens—and I reached between us. A strangled sound escaped Travis as I wrapped us both in one fist and moved my hand up and down, exactly like I'd jerk myself off, but a thousand times hotter because it was both of us. Our breathing was ragged and rough, and his fingers were digging into my sides. I imagined him leaving bruises, and it thrilled me. Yes. Leave your mark.
It only took a moment before I felt us grow slick beneath my fingers, and I found myself close to orgasm. Travis was close too—I could hear it in his throat and see it in his muscles and feel it in the hot, swollen cock inside my hand. It got to me, that I could bring him to this panting, heated, untamed place, that it was my body, my grasp, my movement driving him to it. I loved watching him—so different than watching a woman, and yet familiar too. His body was like mine, and I saw all my pleasure reflected in it, as if he were a mirror.
I loved the hitch of his chest, the wideness of his shoulders tapering to the tautness of his waist, the angle of his back as he leaned slightly away and pushed his hips forward. I loved the rippling muscles on his stomach, the faint trail of hair beneath his belly button, the silver sheen to his skin in the dark. And I loved the agony on his face, the open mouth, the half-shut eyes, the struggle in his expression. Was he fighting it?
The thought pleased me, that there was torture inside him, that he was suffering for me somehow, and that I could relieve it.
"I want you to come," I rasped through clenched teeth. "I want to watch you. I want to feel it in my hand. I want you dripping down my stomach."
He spoke unintelligible words of anguish, maybe Japanese and its soo fucking sexy, his head turning to the side, as if he were still intent on lasting longer. His profile was so beautiful it made me angry.
"Now," I demanded, stroking harder and faster, feeling my legs go weak as climax threatened. Fuck—I didn't want to lose control before he did, but everything I did to him, I did to myself too. "Goddamn you, don't deny me. Now. Now!"
He did what I asked, clutching me hard and rolling his hips as he came in silky, hot spurts, moaning something that was probably there, you fucking asshole in Japanese. The thought of it—that I was dominating my own wayward desire by dominating its object—was arousing enough, but the sight of it—another man's cum—hitting my stomach and chest, gliding over my fist, getting all over my cock, pushed me over the edge. Everything tightened and twisted and tensed before suddenly releasing in a roaring rush of bliss as I exploded all over both of us.
