The drive back to campus was quick, our silence comfortable, yet heavy with anticipation. Our hands lay together on the center console, fingers entwined. I marveled at my change of fortune.

My door had barely latched when Damien pressed me against the wall, his hands cupping my face. Those hazel eyes glimmered in the dim light; I just wanted to fall into their depths, to swim along with those green flecks. He closed the distance and our lips met. The touch was shocking, thrilling—a hundred times I’d dreamed of this and not one fantasy could match the excitement that raced through me.

At first he was tentative, soft and gentle; his mouth tasted of mint. I wrapped him in my arms and pulled him closer, tangling my hands in his hair. His auburn curls slid like silk through my fingers. The kiss deepened; our mouths and tongues exploring, craving, enjoying each other.

I levered us away from the wall, and we stumbled, still clutched together, toward my bed. With a push I had Damien on his back, and I relished the look of him, rumpled and flustered—and hot to trot, judging from the mound in his pants. I wanted to touch all of him, kiss him, lick every inch—I didn’t know where to start. Damien solved my indecision by grabbing the hem of his tee-shirt and pulling it off. Lithe and wiry, Damien had more meat than I would have guessed. And that treasure trail headed north, as well, to nicely fur his stomach and chest. I crawled onto the mattress beside him and started to unbutton my shirt.

Damien stopped my fingers, taking over. “Let me. It’ll be like a Christmas present.”

I snickered. “That’s corny.” He slipped hands inside my shirt, rubbing across my nipples. I shivered.

“Maybe it is, but that’s how I feel.”

What I felt was scalding heat, burning trails of fire where his fingers met my skin. He slipped off my shirt and traced the outlines of my torso, red lines of sensation flaring across my mind. I put out my hands to support myself, feeling the satin of Damien’s skin over the steely muscles beneath. An iron fist in a slender, velvet glove.

Damien pulled me down into another embrace. I kissed his lips, but didn’t stop there. My lips moved over his face to kiss his nose, his cheeks, eyes, and across his forehead. I nibbled along his jaw to lick beneath his ear, pleased when he trembled at my touch.
Following the fluttery pulse of his carotid, my mouth traveled down his neck, feeling the rough stubble of his beard. The salt of his sweat was sweet to my tongue and I savored the heat of his flesh with my mouth.

I explored the planes of his chest. Patchouli and sandalwood clung to his skin; I inhaled his scent like a drug. I was awash in new feelings, unfamiliar tastes and smells; the sensations flooded my brain, swamped my inhibitions.

Damien’s hands caressed my head when I moved down his body. Quickly I unfastened his jeans, pushing them down as he lifted his hips. His cock bounced free, a marvelous column of hard flesh, topped with a shiny crown.

“Suck me! Please, Max!” His voice was rough, harsh with desire.

Even without the invitation, I wanted to swallow his cock. It was beautiful; long and slender, it arched away from his belly, two perfectly sized testicles nestling at its base. A pearl of pre-come glistened at its tip and I lapped it up with my tongue. The drop was bitter and fiery with promise.

I wet my lips and licked his length, the veins like Braille against my tongue. Damien moaned. My mouth caressed the silky steel, taking it in, inch by rigid inch, until his cock head pushed into my throat and my nose pressed into his bush. Slowly I pulled back and raked his skin, ever so lightly, with my teeth. A groan rattled Damien’s chest.

Faster, slower, harder, softer, I worshiped his cock, urged on by the panting rasp of Damien’s breathing. Suddenly he pushed me away and growled, “Stop! I’m going to come.” His cock twitched once, twice, but no jizz.

I wiped at my chin. “That’s sorta the idea, Einstein.”

“Oh, I plan on it.” Damien licked the saliva from the back of my hand, as he kicked his Levis the rest of the way off. “But I want you screwing me when it happens.”

If I hadn’t already been as hard as a steel rod, that thought alone would certainly have done the job. “You are such the control freak.”

“I know what I want—and I want you to fuck me.”

Fucking Damien would be absolute bliss! Oh, shit! Panicked, I ran to the closet, tossing items hurriedly aside. “Damn it! Noah took them all! We don’t have any condoms!”

“Check my jeans!” Damien laughed. “When have I not had all the bases covered?”

Relieved beyond words, I retrieved three foil packets from Damien’s pants. “Wow! Confident, aren’t you?”

“Hey! You have to plan ahead and have contingencies.” Looking like sex on a stick—that is, nothing at all like regular Damien—he leaned on a fist and slowly stroked his hard-on while I hopped from foot to foot, getting rid of my pants and shorts.

“What was the contingency if I had said ‘No’?” Scrabbling under the bed, I found some Boy Butter.

“I already have plenty of porn—” he took the bottle from me, “and lube—at my place. But I was pretty sure you would agree.”

“Oh, you were, were you?” I struggled to open a foil square; I was so hard, my cock ached.

Damien sat up, taking the condom, and pushed me back against the pillows. “Okay, let’s say I was really hopeful.” He licked the length of my cock then unrolled the latex in one smooth movement.

Knowing Damien, he had practiced—with a banana. I smiled at the thought as he straddled my hips, his cock bobbing like a sexy dowsing rod. “So, from ‘pretty sure’ to ‘really hopeful.’ What about now?”

Damien leaned forward and captured my mouth again; his tongue swiped with mine. “Now,” he grabbed my hand, pressing it to his chest, “I am very, very nervous.” Beneath my hand, his heart raced, keeping pace with mine.

–© C.C. Williams 2013                                                          Buy Now