Justin kneeled on the bed next to me, gripping himself at the base. He looked like a rock god with his longish hair, tattoos and badass pout, languidly stroking his dick instead of a six-string.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked huskily.
I pushed my jeans and briefs over my ass, watching him through hooded eyes as I wrapped my fingers around my shaft. I wondered what he saw. I knew I was considered fairly attractive, but maybe I was delusional. I hadn’t cared about fashion trends or hanging out with the “in-crowd” in years. I figured if I worked out, ate right, and still fit in my favorite jeans, it was a win. But a young man in his prime might see things differently.
Justin’s reverent gaze indicated that wasn’t the case. I stroked myself as I watched him. He fixated on my chest for a long moment before zeroing in on my languid motion. Up and down with a slight twist of the wrist…then repeat. I smiled and patted the mattress. “Come here.”
Justin scooted closer and lay beside me. He set his left hand over mine and stroked himself with his right. I slipped my leg between his and covered his mouth, kissing him in time to the rhythm he set. The slight tug and twist in his technique sent tingles along my spine.
“You like that?”
“It’s okay,” I said, gritting my teeth.
He barked a quick laugh and continued the sweet torture while he sucked on my tongue. I rested my hand on his hip, then slowly lowered it to squeeze his ass. I traced his crack as I nibbled his jaw. Justin groaned and climbed over me, covering me like a blanket. He held onto the headboard with one hand and rocked his hips so that my dick slipped between his cheeks. When the tip nudged his hole, Justin backed off and reached between our sweat-slicked skin to jack us together.
“Do you like this better?” Justin asked mischievously.
“Fuck, yes. I—”
He drove his tongue between my lips before I could finish. Not that I had much to say. This was perfect. He was perfect. His weight, his intensity, and the friction of that primal slide of our thick shafts. I felt like a starving man being fed for the first time in years. I wanted everything at once. I could tell Justin felt the same. He writhed over me, wantonly sucking my tongue and licking my lips as he moved, twisting his wrist and stroking. Up and down. Over and over.
When I grabbed his ass and planted my feet flat on the mattress, he bit my bottom lip and straightened slightly. I glanced down at his smooth inked skin against my hairy, more muscular chest. Damn, we looked good together. Our rigid cocks glistening with precum were a thing of beauty, and I had to have a taste. I swiped my thumb over our slits, then sucked it clean.
“Oh my God,” he moaned.
I did it again, staring into his eyes as I set my thumb on his lower lip. He rested the tip of his tongue on the digit before sucking it ravenously. That was it. I pushed at his chest and rolled on top of him, rutting like a madman before sitting back between his knees and stroking my cock furiously.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come.”
And I did. Ropes of jizz spurted across Justin’s hand. He didn’t hesitate to use it as lube. Two pumps of his fist and he was gone. He roared as his release hit him a moment later.
I held on to the top rung of the headboard and surveyed the mess we’d made as I fought to catch my breath. I met Justin’s gaze and gave him a lopsided smile.
Now came the awkward part.
The last time we’d done this, we agreed it was a one-time thing. Everything was different tonight. Straddling an invisible line between nonchalance and gratitude felt like a big task.
I glanced out the window at the moonlight reflected on the pool before gazing down at my lover. “Justin, I—”
“Mmm. Lie down,” he commanded, closing his eyes.
I swallowed hard and licked my lips. “Stay here. I’m gonna clean up.”
I hiked my leg over him and then hurried to the bathroom to grab a towel. I wiped the sweat and cum off my chest and hands quickly, making sure to avoid the mirror as I headed back to the bedroom. I set the towel on Justin’s stomach and studied him. He lay with one arm over his heart and the other over his head. His eyes were shut, but his mouth was open and though he wasn’t snoring, he was making a funny noise as he exhaled. He looked peaceful and serene. Neither were adjectives I’d use to describe him. Justin was a manic fireball. All energy and momentum, with no clear direction. He barreled forward, crashing and burning yet somehow emerging in one piece. With a modicum of direction and discipline, he could be dangerous. I watched him for a moment before gently cleaning the mess on his stomach.