No Saint (Wild Men 6)

Huh. Okay. I swallow hard and wipe my hands on my top.

Not sure this is normal, but what do I know? His T-shirt is covered in cum, and... I can’t get over how sexy he was as he came, his cock so big and so incredibly hard with those silver bars that seemed so sensitive when I touched them. The sounds he made... the way his strong body arched... knowing I did this to him, aroused him so much, made him come with my hand and mouth, it’s exciting.

He’s right, I want him, so badly. I’ve been throbbing inside from the moment I sat beside him, my skin craving his touch, imagining him naked with me, moving inside me—and I feel awful because he’s not well, but my body wouldn’t listen. I wanted to pleasure him.

I want to make him feel good, to see him smile. Those stories he told me all but broke my heart. I don’t know what to do with him, how to deal with the negative feelings from the past and all this affection for him flooding me now. I should take a step back, think.

But now he looks worse than before, and I remember that he has a fever, plus blood still trickles from his head wound. He got me so distracted with the things he recounted that I pushed all that to the back of my mind. I need to step back, put enough distance between us so I can think straight again. It’s like he has magic about him and it ensnares me if I’m not careful.

“Ross?”

No reply. Has he fallen asleep?

I shake him a little and he blinks at me, licks his lips, and even pale and worn out like that he looks beautiful.

Can’t believe I touched him, touched his cock, so long and hard and hot, the silver piercings, felt how he reacted to me. My fingers, my grip, my breath, my tongue. My mouth.

Can’t believe that I put my mouth on him, around his hard-on. Felt the blood rush through him. Felt him tremble. Lose control. Just like he got me off, I wanted to touch him where he ached for it, taste him, explore what seemed to excite him.

That saltiness. Bitterness. So fascinating. So like Ross.

I didn’t expect how hard he’d come, how much he’d shoot.

Speaking of which.... “You should change out of that T-shirt.” I tug lightly on the hem. “And get into bed. You look beat.”

“Your fault,” he murmurs, and I grin, not able to help myself.

I’m still on my knees, gazing up at him, and something sweet is unfurling in my chest, in my mind. He looks so peaceful, and cute, and frigging sexy like that, with his tousled blond hair, his mouth slack, hands lax at his sides.

I remember the feel of his strong fingers in my hair earlier, tugging as he grunted my name and his cock jerking, flooding my mouth with his taste. Maybe I should be shocked, turned off, but it was the opposite. It was so hot, knowing I was doing that to him. Getting him so hard, so aroused he looked like he was in pain, and then his near shout of relief when he came, his cock spewing all that cum.

The cock that’s resting now on his hip, not completely soft yet, impressive even so. Never thought much about how sensitive guys are, well, there. How vulnerable. All their pleasure in that hot rod of flesh, so exposed, their need so raw and real.

I think about how he said the piercings where there so he could feel.

I almost reach for his cock again, to stroke it, feel it harden against my palm. I want to do this again, I realize with a jolt, do more, see him, hear him. Feel him come.

He produces a soft sound, and it breaks through my looping thoughts. I get to my feet in a rush, kind of horrified at myself.

“Ross?”

“Hm.”

“You should go inside. You’re falling asleep. You need to rest.”

He blinks at me, long pale lashes. “I’ll stay here, on the porch.” He lifts one arm. “Come here.”

I think of the story he told me, spun like a cruel, dark fairytale, about that boy living by the river, about how lonely he was.

About how he tried to hide he was talking about himself, and the pain in his voice, ringing like a bell in every word. I wonder if he’d have ever talked like that if it hadn’t been for the fever.

“You need to lie down and rest,” I tell him. “In a bed. And I have to go. I’ve left my phone at home. Dad’s probably worried.”

“Fuck...” He lets his arm drop at his side. Glances down at his bare cock and his beautiful mouth twitches. “Stay with me.”

“I can’t.”

He nods, his faint smile fading, eyes going dark. “Right.”