But soon enough, I felt his dick poking into my thigh, and not gonna lie, I was sporting a semi of my own. Was this how it was going to be between us from now on? If so, there were going to be some uncomfortable nights ahead.
“Fuck, sorry,” Elliot rolled away from me, then sat up, no doubt realizing I could feel his arousal. “Probably just need to blow off steam. Nerves about the test. I’m gonna use the bathroom, then go to sleep.”
“What if I’m nervous about the bachelor party tomorrow night and don’t wanna go to sleep?”
“What are you saying?” Elliot asked as our eyes met. “You wanna jerk off together again?”
“Yes…no…I dunno.” I pushed the sheets down, exposing how my own erection was poking against my boxers. “I feel all pent-up too.”
He lay back down and stared at the ceiling. I could feel the gooseflesh lining his arms, and my heart drummed in my ears. I wondered if I should’ve kept my mouth shut. But my fingers itched to do something—reach, grope, soothe something other than my own cock—and I couldn’t seem to stop my stray thoughts, not after the other night with him had felt so damned good.
“Well, I do need more practice with my date duties,” Elliot finally said, turning on his side to face me, and I barked out a laugh, which released the ball of worry lodged in my throat.
“You’re ridiculous,” I said, then sucked in a breath when he ran his knuckles over my abdomen directly above my waistband.
“Elliot,” I said, my voice husky. “That…feels good.”
“Yeah?” He repeated the action, this time sliding his knuckles down the front of my boxers. I shuddered. “Pull yourself out.”
“Only if you do,” I said, not wanting to be in this alone.
He pushed out of his underwear without a second thought and kicked them to the floor. His shaft bounced against his stomach, and damn, this closer examination made me appreciate how nice his cock actually was. Long like mine but with a bit more heft near the glans and curving to the right. Filled with blood, the prominent veins stood out, and not for the first time, especially in recent days, I wondered what it might feel like against my fingers. Or my tongue.
My stomach tightened. What the hell were we doing? Batting that thought away, I tugged my underwear down, deposited them on the floor, then turned on my side to face him. We were both bare, just like the other night, except close enough that our dicks were nearly touching, which felt way more intimate. I curled my hand into a fist, resisting the urge to reach for him, afraid one wrong move might ruin everything.
Apparently, Elliot was the braver of the two of us—or maybe more reckless—because he reached for my shoulder and gently tugged me toward him.
“What are we doing?” I asked as I plopped on top of him in an awkward tangle of arms and legs.
“Frotting 101,” he said with a hesitant smirk. “Didn’t you take that class?”
“It’s been a while, but holy shit.” I felt him tremble, and I wasn’t doing much better because positioned over him like that, with our groins lined up, felt like a lot and not enough at the same time. “This is too…”
“Too much?” he asked as our eyes met, and he stilled beneath me. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
He tried to lift his torso, but I pushed him back down. “Wait. I was gonna say that it felt too good.” And maybe too right. But I had no idea where that thought was coming from. Likely from my sex-starved brain.
“Well, too good is obviously all wrong. Had you said average good,” Elliot began, but I put my hand over his mouth to shut him up.
Except he didn’t play fair because his tongue lashed against my palm, making me groan. And when he gripped my wrist and engulfed one of my fingers in his mouth, my cock swelled, my balls prickled, and I couldn’t help rutting against him, using my knees as leverage instead of my feet, which couldn’t get much traction.
“Gah, you’re driving me fucking crazy,” Elliot said, releasing my hand and encircling my waist. “Do that again.”
I snapped my hips forward and watched his response—his eyes growing hooded, his nipples pebbling, and I’d admit it was heady making him want it, want me, or whatever the hell it was we were doing.
I reached down and brushed my thumb against one nipple and then the other as he bit his lip and moaned, his fingers tightening against my waist. He yanked me forward, my head landing against his neck as he started moving, rutting against me, losing himself in the friction of our bodies sliding together.
“More,” I said against his throat, resisting the urge to kiss his skin, but then giving in and licking a stripe under his ear that made him hiss.