Ends of the Earth

But now it vibrated through every pore, the craving refusing to be denied. Jerking his hips despite himself, he humped the mattress pathetically, trying not to think about Ben. Maybe if he just thought about other men, it would be better. Less messy somehow. Less emotional.

Yet he couldn’t imagine trusting anyone else. In Ben’s hands, he’d been safe even when he’d felt defenseless, his skin too thin like tissue paper, his whole self flayed open. What would it be like to have sex with Ben again? Now that Jason knew what to expect when he had a cock in his ass, could he handle it all better?

Memories of the hotel room seemed imprinted on his flesh, indelible. Ben had been gentle and patient, but he’d gone hard too when he fucked him.

I’ve actually been fucked.

A thrill zipped through him. Pandora’s box had been thrown wide open, his body and soul awakened. It sang in his veins, his dick rock hard at the thought of doing it again with Ben. Doing everything.

Because there had to be so much more, wasn’t there?

He remembered the sensation of Ben’s cock inside him, splitting him open, the burning pain worth the tidal wave of pleasure in the end. Then it had all been too much for him to handle, but now he was ready for more. He was going to explode if he didn’t come.

With a furtive glance toward Maggie’s room, he jumped up and hurried to the bathroom, locking the door and leaning against it, blinking into the glare when he flipped on the light. In the large mirror over the sink, he stared at himself, lips parted and chest rising too fast, nipples hard.

Before he could think, his hands lifted to circle them, teasing and squeezing, the tent in his PJs just visible at the bottom of the mirror. Sparks showered his skin, his belly rippling as he caressed his chest down to his waistband.

Jason stared at his flushed skin and light muscles. He didn’t have anything close to washboard abs, but…he wasn’t bad. He’d never looked at himself like that before. Like something sexual. Desirable.

His hair was a mess, and he imagined Ben’s fingers tangling in it. The sensation of Ben’s tongue and hot, wet mouth on Jason’s dick had been incredible. What would it be like to drop to his knees and suck Ben’s cock?

Biting back a groan, he shoved down his pajamas and kicked them off before squirting lotion into his hand from the Costco bottle under the sink. Naked, he watched in the mirror as he stroked himself, his shaft heavy and curving slightly to the left, the tip glistening.

Jason swiped his finger over the head and tasted his pre-cum, the tang tightening his balls. After sucking his finger, he reached back between his cheeks, poking experimentally into his hole. It was dry and tight, but he liked the burn.

Spreading his legs, he braced, fucking himself and stroking his shaft with his other hand, watching in the mirror. It wasn’t as smooth jerking off with his left hand as it would be with his right, but he was so close it didn’t matter, and he loved the feeling of his finger inside him. It wasn’t Ben’s cock, but it would have to do.

Then he imagined Ben was there watching. Jason pressed his lips together hard to prevent a cry from escaping as he pictured Ben’s broad, hairy chest, his big cock and heavy balls. Ben would jerk himself as well, and he’d come all over Jason—

Spurting on the sink and counter, even splashing the mirror, Jason trembled through his orgasm, watching himself and imagining Ben’s cum mixing with his.

Head back, he finally closed his eyes, slipping his finger out of his ass, panting. If Ben was there, he’d draw Jason into his arms and hold him close, whisper kisses and praise against his skin. Jason longed to feel Ben’s body against him again. He could see it so clearly…

Jolting, he grabbed a paper towel from under the sink and mopped up his mess before washing his hands and tugging on his pajamas. The sketchbook he’d brought to Montana was lost, and he hadn’t even thought about picking up his pencils since they’d been back.

But now need filled him, urgent and unrelenting. He grabbed a pad and pencils from a drawer in the living room and turned on the kitchen light, standing at the counter and drawing furiously, fueled by the sudden despair that he’d forget what Ben looked like.

Page after page, he drew Ben—smiling, standing, sitting, hiking, naked in bed. Blushing and tingling, he drew Ben’s cock in its nest of dark hair, capturing every angle. Breathing hard when he was done, he flipped through the pages, not sure what to feel.

A sound from Maggie’s room had him jumping a mile high, and he shoved the sketchbook to the back of the top shelf in the hall closet holding his clothes, well out of reach and sight.