Angry Sex! Or Any Tuesday with Peter and Austin
Go me with my perfect timing.
After setting the bottle of lube on the nightstand, I sat at the edge of the bed, dried my clammy hands on my chinos and waited.
It didn’t take long.
Peter blew into the room, toeing off his shoes at the door and pulling his shirt over his head. “Hey. It’s nearly seventy out.” The jeans slid down his legs and landed somewhere to my right with a thud. “I’ve got ninety minutes until my next class.”
As he snatched a pair of track pants, I grinned and jerked my head while attempting what I thought was a sexy lean, but what was, in reality, The Most Awkward Pose in the Known Universe.
His eyes jumped from me to the direction I indicated, then he pulled the pants on, his long fingers pausing briefly while tying the waist. They’d been inside me last night, slowly rubbing, pressing, and expertly making me come without touching my cock. My dick made a half-hearted revival.
“Not interested,” he said, tugging on a shoe.
My bruised ego crawled into a crevice and died.
Not interested? I walked over and snatched a shirt out of the dresser. The cotton bunched in my fist as I turned around, tips of my fingers probably burrowing holes in the fabric. “Not interested?”
“Even you’re not interested. You look sick!”
“Well, now my ego and my balls have shriveled up.”
“How do you want me to react to this seduction?” He swiped both hands over his face. “Oh baby, it’s so hot when you bend over the toilet while I fuck you? Those contractions as you puke really do it fo–”
“I get it,” I said, eyes rolling up to the ceiling and a reluctant smile popping through my irritation. My voice softened as I added, “It’s never going to get easy for me.”
“So we may as well do it? You don’t get a gold star for having dick up your ass.” He strode to me, hands sliding down my bare sides and gripping my cheeks. “Give me a good reason.” His mouth pressed against my ear as he pulled our hips together. “Tell me you want my come inside you. Get hard at the thought of my cock buried deep in your ass.” We both looked down as my dick answered his demands.
“One day, I will not respond to your orders.”
“Yeah?” he murmured, returning to my ear and sucking the lobe between his teeth. He now had my dick’s complete attention.
Okay, we’d established that day wasn’t today.
I pulled his head back with both hands and kissed his warm lips, then attempted to walk forward in order to force him toward the bed, and maybe gain a little control back. Instead, he flipped me around. I stumbled forward, planting my hands on the dresser, the edge biting into my hips.
“Fucker.” I felt his smile against my shoulder, mouth leaving tingling, wet skin on his way down my back. My head slowly fell forward on a sigh and then snapped back up. “Ow.” I tilted to see him on his knees behind me. “What the fuck?”
He slapped my ass cheek, right where his teeth had just been. “Why are you so tense?”
My face grew hot and I turned to the mirror again. “I—“
He yanked down my chinos. The button popped free, bounced off the mirror and rolled onto the floor. I concentrated on the noise to avoid the embarrassing thought of our current positions. “One pair of pants left with a button and you fuck that up.”
The air brushed cold against my bared skin as he pulled away. “You…prepared.”
After a year together, I still wasn’t used to being examined like a solo porn film. My blushing perturbed me and I snapped at him because of it. “Yes, thank you, Super Observant Man. Your powers of observance are amazing.”
He laughed and swatted me again. “Lemme in.”
“Oh for—“ My irritation peaked with my humiliation. If he wasn’t going to take this seriously, I was going take my balls and go play somewhere else. I grabbed my pants in order to pull them up. When I bent, he stuck his tongue in my ass.
Shock froze me. My dignity abandoned me in a gasp. I might as well have clutched pearls and screamed “dear God, yes!” Then I bypassed any and all possible humiliation when his tongue drew a circle around my sensitive skin. My hands shot out to brace once more, shirt still clenched in my fist. But even that flash of pleasure couldn’t stymie a stream of panicked thoughts.
Had three showers been enough? Did the enema have chemicals that might hurt him? Did cherry lube taste—
Oh, fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck.
I groaned, concerns skittering away as his tongue entered me. My fingertips dug into cotton and wood. I breathed out, eyes closing, tongue pressed up against my teeth. More embarrassing sounds spilled out of me. Reaching back, I combed through his hair and then let my palm rest there, feeling the motion of his head, the dampness of his scalp. “Peter.” I was supposed to say something, tell him something. Distantly, I heard my grunts–guttural, heavy—expelling with each flick of his tongue. I went to relieve the ache intensifying in my cock and balls. That was when the asshole stopped, slapped my cheek and squeezed it before moving away.
Panting, I twisted to confront him as he rose. He angled forward. I jerked back, sticking my finger into his forehead. “Whoa, sport. Whatchya doin there?” Kissing? “Aannd, that’s not happening.”
Both his eyebrows popped up. “You’re really not going to kiss me?”
“That saying about things tasting like ass? Yeah, that’s not code for ‘bon appetite’.”
“I did enjoy my meal, though.” The sides of his mouth twitched and his chest shook. He licked his wet lips. “You tasted like cherries.”
Which meant he now tasted of cherries. And smelled, as always, like cinnamon.
I was dating a Hostess pie.
Rimming had been off the table the first time I’d read about it. At least my doing it to him. Now? What would he sound like if it were my tongue? Would he arch his back? Would he whimper? Clench the sheets? I knew at this point, I wanted to find out. Eventually.
I lowered my guard, body remaining stiff until his mouth covered mine. The effect of his warmth was instant. I relaxed, opened for him, let him lead. Cherry flavored but with a mild chemical aftertaste. Had I subconsciously chosen a flavored lube for butt sex? I splayed my hands against his jaw and neck, pressed close to him, hips touching, chests bumping, trying to feel as much of him as possible while we moved to the bed. My world was all him. It was always that way when we fucked. No matter how we fucked.
“I’m not saying all that other shit,” I mumbled between our mouths bumping while stepping—or tripping–out of my pants. “But the…your…inside me…come…whatever. Let’s fuck.”
“Poetic,” he said, pushing me with one hand onto the bed and grabbing the lube with the other.
I lay back, cock in hand, ready to enjoy the show of him undressing. He tossed the bottle next to my head and climbed, knees-first, between my legs and then lifted my ankles in the air. His pants were still on. The fucker.
I knew what he wanted. Why he wasn’t undressing. What he waited for.
Picking up the lube, I clamped my hand around it, hoping to warm the liquid while I considered Peter.
A few months after the hospital, I’d had another epiphany about him. Maybe it had taken so long because things were so slow at first–me afraid of the myriad of scars on his body, afraid of hurting him, and him, sore, tired and high from pain pills much of the time. Or maybe I hadn’t come to the realization because of what it meant—what it could mean for our future.
Peter was a voyeur. Not just a voyeur, but watching turned him on at levels my mouth or hands or toys couldn’t reach.
Was he uninterested in fucking because he’d rather watch?
I flicked open the lid with one thumb and poured the warmed liquid over my cock. It trickled down the length and into the crease. I jacked a few times, making a show of it for him. . Peter expelled a choppy, rapid breath through his nose. He moved only to place my hand lower and push our fingers, together, inside me. I hissed and closed my eyes.
“Hey,” he prompted, voice low and as uneven as his breathing.
I knew the rules.
The bed next to my ear dipped with the weight of his arm, bringing him close enough to feel the heat of every exhale. My eyes opened and our gazes connected. . Deep blue eyes, slowly filling with black. Eyes to drown in. I pulled him into a kiss, tongue colliding with his at the same tempo of our fingers thrusting in and out. My balls tightened.
“Stop,” I panted, pulling out and trying to concentrate on something else.
Our breaths and chests heaved like we’d sprinted a marathon, precum darkening his clothing and the head of my cock, and I needed to come so bad I was going to splatter the ceiling at any second.
Focus on something else.
Why had he been so reluctant? He’d been more than willing to fuck me a year ago that day on the sofa before Dave walked in on us.
This was such a bad time to ask about it.
So of course I did.
“Is it that you don’t want to fuck?”
“You have fantastic timing,” he muttered, propping my ankles over his shoulders. “Do I feel like I don’t want to fuck you?” He grabbed my hips and pushed forward, poking my ass through the fabric of his pants.
Well, this wasn’t an awkward position at all to have a chat.
Undeterred, I continued my inquisition. No one knew how to cockblock me better than me. I was an expert. “Do you want me to bring back someone so you can watch them fuck me?”
The blue of his eyes nearly disappeared. His throat muscles tightened and his tongue went white between his teeth. He sat back on his heels and my legs slowly lowered to his waist. “Yes, maybe one day, but that’s not why I’m hesitating. This is going to hurt, Austin.”
“I know it is.” Had we just blown by that ‘yes’? I stored it for later. My cock threatened mutiny if I didn’t finish this discussion soon.
“I don’t mean it’s going to sting for a second or just at first. It’s going to hurt all the way through. Especially for you, because you overthink everything. You’re going to concentrate on the pain and you won’t relax. It’ll hurt and you’ll be done.” He slashed a hand through his hair, the red strands parting and presenting me with the scar underneath, then he gave me wide ‘c’mon!’ eyes.
My voice got lost in the pang of memory. It happened every time I saw his scars, though I tried to hide my reaction in silence. Not a good idea when he was angry.
“Actually, forget this whole thing.” He started to leave. I put my hand on his arm. “Austin, look at you. We’re two seconds from fucking and you want to have a conversation. It’s insane. And I’m insane for letting you do your Barrel Through The Fear thing about this.”
“Are you done?” I asked, forcing mildness into my voice.
“This is done. Yeah.”
“Hold on! I didn’t stop you because I’m skittering away like a virgin on his wedding night. I stopped you because I was two strokes from shooting through the roof and making our neighbors think we were having a snowstorm in June.”
His brows crinkled in doubt. “How is that even possible? We just started!”
“No, you just started. I’ve been…prepping,” I finally spat out, “most of the morning.”
Peter stared a full thirty seconds, blinking like an owl faced caught in sudden porch light. “Okay.” He remained kneeling, not staring at me but not looking away either. A sudden smirk turned up the left side of his mouth.
Well, that wasn’t hard to read. Especially when he rubbed his dick.
Wait. Had I just won an argument? Reaching up to him again, I snarled my fingers in his hair and yanked him down. “We’re fucking now.”
“Okay.” His smile pressed up against my lips.
We both clawed at his waistband, so worked up that the pants never made it the whole way off. I grabbed an ass cheek as he descended on my mouth and kept my other hand locked on the back of his head, pulling him as tight as possible against me.
“Where..are…the…condoms?” He asked between each kiss. My lips started to bruise.
“Now who’s cockblocking?” His armpit opened up over my mouth as he reached for the nightstand, the rash of freckles enticing me. I craned my neck to lick him then stopped. “What if we went bare?”
The drawer slammed shut. Peter slowly moved until we were eye-to-eye. “We bareback and we’re monogamous. Period.”
“I’m okay with that. You?”
I blind-searched for the lube while keeping our gazes locked. When my hand found it, his palm covered mine. He nodded slowly and grazed my mouth with his. The lid clicked and my heart leapt into my throat.
Everything I felt for Peter—love, tenderness, hope, friendship—it all stripped away my anxiety and replaced it with need. Emotions came pouring into my body. Heat coiled at my groin. Anticipation rushed blood through my veins. My pulse raced.
“Hey,” I said, mimicking him from earlier, though my voice barely rose above a whisper. I love you. Dammit.
“Okay.” He leaned into my ear, heating the skin with his breath as he guided his cock into me. “Me too,” he whispered.
“Ow.”