One More Year Ch. 06

I got out, and he was immediately all over me, pushing me against the exterior wall and kissing me in a way that made me glad I had something behind me to lean on. It was going to be difficult getting all the way to my room. I didn't care that my back was against the cold stone of the wall, or that anyone could walk around the street corner and see us like this. I only cared that Eric was there, and I could feel the warmth of his body pressed against me as his tongue probed my mouth. When he pulled away, I would have groaned, but it occurred to me that we could move this to my room.

"Don't kiss me in the path." I headed over to open the gate. "I don't want to give Ellie a show."

"Okay," he said. "I'll try to behave. No promises though."

I moved down the path pretty quickly, and he followed just behind me. The main windows of the house were all dark, and while I couldn't be sure about the outward facing ones, it did seem like we were probably alone. Looking up, I could see a light coming from what I now knew was Ellie's room, but I couldn't tell if she was watching. I didn't really care. I went over to the glass door, and led Eric into my room, closing it behind us.

"Is anyone home?"

"I don't think so. Just us."

He was giving me a mischievous grin, and I had to turn my head away and compose myself. I made my way around, making sure both the doors were locked, and that my curtains were properly closed, with no gaps to let light out. As I finished, he stepped up to me, and started kissing me again.

Kissing him that first night had been like lighting a fuse. But kissing him then, and going further -- touching him, feeling his hands running all over me -- wasn't like exploding. It was like being caught in a dangerous tide. Like being thrown around in the waves, and dashed against the rocks. The rest of the world didn't matter so much any more. Nothing really mattered, except that I was being carried away by the sensation, gasping for air.

My hand moved down from his shoulder, to trace its way across his chest. I felt an electric tingle every time my hand crossed the line of a muscle underneath the fabric of his shirt, and he moaned softly into my mouth -- a sort of vibrating hum that reverberated its way through my head and shook its way violently down the length of my body. It made me less afraid to touch him where I wanted to, how I wanted to. I began to lose all sense of myself.

And I didn't particularly care.

He started to slowly unbutton my shirt. Too slowly. I found it infuriating. He broke off the kiss to undo a button, and took a step back. I followed, seeking out his mouth, but we only kissed for a second before he did it again. And again. When I reached down to undo a button myself, he grabbed my hands, pulling them back down. I let out a sound halfway between a groan and a growl, and he chuckled.

"So impatient."

I didn't say anything -- I just grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. Taking the hint, he stepped back slightly to give me the room I needed to lift it the rest of the way. He wriggled out of it, and I tossed it behind when he was done. I cautiously put my hand on his shoulder, biting my lip as I felt his muscles ripple under the surface of his warm skin. He finished undoing my buttons, and pulled the shirt open. I shrugged it off the rest of the way, letting it fall onto the floor behind me.

"You know, it's a little unfair that you've seen me shirtless like three times now, and this is only my first time seeing you."

I wanted to respond with a joke. Something about how if he was keeping count, that made him a massive dork. But he'd started to run his hand lightly across my chest, grazing a nipple and slowly dragging his fingers down my side, then moving them around to my back. It was more than a little distracting, so I couldn't really put the words together properly. What came pouring out instead, somehow, was honesty.

"I don't think I'm as confident shirtless as you are." For good reasons, too. I'd finally gotten a bit of definition over the last summer, but Eric was almost unrealistically toned. I would have bet there was a home gym in that huge house of theirs, and I also would have bet that he used it, and often. He was all bulging pecs, and defined shoulders, and rippling abs. If I looked like that, I'd be taking my shirt off all the time too.

"Well, you," he stepped in again, giving me a quick kiss, "are all kinds of crazy." He kissed me again. "Walking around like you're not the hottest guy I've ever met." As if to emphasise his point, he ground his hips against mine, causing our erections to rub together through the fabric of our jeans. I gasped, and he pulled me into a much deeper kiss.

His hands wrapped around me, and he began to pull me backwards. I split my attention between focusing on his tongue in my mouth, and running my hands over his muscles, feeling every ripple and bulge that I -- somehow -- had permission to explore. I was so immersed in it all that I didn't even notice that we had reached the bed, until he held me out at arms length to look at me.

"You okay?" He asked, his blue eyes fixing seriously on my face.

What kind of stupid question was that? This was so much better than okay. I was staring at 'okay' as a distant object in the rear-view mirror. I let out a small laugh. "Um, yeah, very okay."

He grinned. "We can take our jeans off, if you want."

I just nodded, and reached forward, running my hand down his treasure trail until I reached his belt. Feeling momentarily bold, I dropped my hand and felt along the outline of his dick, eliciting an approving groan and a smile. I reached out with my other hand and undid the belt buckle, and then began to struggle with the top button of his jeans.

"Here, let me." He swiftly undid the button, then pushed his jeans down, causing them to collapse around his ankles. His underwear -- a pair of briefs that looked expensive, and delicate -- was having a much harder time constraining his erection. He kicked off his jeans and then sat on the bed, pulling off his socks.

"Come here," he said, gazing up at me.

Whatever was in control of my body -- it didn't feel like me, at that moment -- complied. He reached up with both his hands, running them along my sides. He gave my dick a squeeze through the fabric, chuckling as I groaned, and then began to undo my belt and unfasten my jeans. Clearly, he was better at this than I was, and soon I'd stepped out of my jeans and kicked off my socks.

"Boxer briefs. I should have known."

What that could possibly mean, I didn't know, but it was hard to care. I pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him, grinding my crotch into his, and gasping at how much more intense the sensation was without the extra barrier of two layers of denim. I needed to take it easier, or I was going to embarrass myself.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked as I pulled away.

"Yeah. Why?"

"I don't know. I just feel like you're being very quiet."

"Yeah, I'm a quiet person."

"Only sometimes."

"Eric."

"Okay, okay. Sorry." He grinned. "Just thought I'd check."

I leaned in to kiss him again, trying to avoid too much friction between our dicks. Just having him like this though -- our tongues in each other's mouths, our hands running across each other's bodies -- was already driving me wild. I occasionally had to pull back for air, and to calm myself down.

"Should we," he looked up at me cautiously, "take off our underwear?"

I jumped back off of him, and he looked really worried until I slipped my thumbs into my waistband and pulled down, causing my cock to pop out and point at him. He grinned, and wriggled out of his, lifting his legs to let them drop to the floor.

I couldn't really look directly at his. Old habits, maybe, but on some instinctive level it felt like I would be inviting trouble if I stared too much. I only caught glimpses of it in my peripheral vision -- hard, leaking, and beautiful. I fixed my eyes on his face instead, and it was clear he had no such aversion to looking.

His eyes openly fixated in front of him, where I stood, and I almost felt like I should be covering up. But I didn't -- I couldn't be the one to knock that look off of his face. He cleared his throat, and looked up at me. "Can I... touch it?"

"Yeah." I stepped closer, my dick bobbing in front of me.

He wrapped his fingers around my shaft, holding his head close. I groaned, and he inhaled deeply. He began to pump up and down, and my knees buckled slightly.

"If you do that too much more..." I moaned.

"Yes?" He grinned, and then when I didn't answer, he loosened his grip slightly. "You can cum whenever you want."

"Not yet."

"Okay. Lie down." He let go and patted the bed next to him.

I sat down, and then swivelled so that I was facing him, my back against the headboard. He turned, and then began straddling me as I extended my legs out underneath him. He reached out a hand to the bedside table to steady himself as he got in position, and knocked over a small stack of books I'd left there.

Looking over to where the books had fallen, he paused. "Oh crap, sorry, I-"

"Just leave them." I grabbed the back of his neck, and pulled him in to kiss me.

He melted into it, his tongue probing further and further into my mouth. Every time his dick grazed mine, it felt like waves of sensation were layering on top of each other, building to impossibly high peaks and drowning everything else out. Then his hand wrapped around our shafts, forcing them together, and I was instantly at the edge.

"Oh fuck, Eric, I'm-"

I had no time to finish that sentence, as I began to spurt jets of cum onto my stomach and chest. As it ebbed, the weaker dribbles coated his hand and dick. I panted as the tides of pleasure roiled through me, and let out a small, solitary sigh of triumph and joy. I looked up to Eric, while he loomed over me, his eyes tracking across my face and spattered torso.

He took his cum covered hand and began pumping at his own dick. He locked eyes with me and started panting. Drawing in a sharp breath, he threw his head back, and blasted his load all over me, some of the shots even going as high as my neck. His breathing was heavy as his body relaxed. He looked down at me and grinned.

"Hang on," he levered himself off of me. "Don't move. I'll get you a towel."

"Through there." I pointed weakly towards the bathroom. "Just by the door."

He was in and out pretty quickly. "Here," he said, tossing the towel to me.

"Thanks." I gratefully mopped myself up, and then turned over to face him.

He'd settled down on the other side of the bed, leaning against the headboard. He was frowning slightly.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, great," I said, smiling. "A little sticky, but mostly great."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I just don't want you to freak out or anything."

"About being with a guy?"

"Yeah."

It was my turn to frown.

"Don't get me wrong," he said quickly. "I don't think it's bad or anything that you're NOT freaking out. I just don't get it."

"I don't know why I would freak out. I've known I've wanted to do stuff with guys for a while now. I'm more just... happy about it. That makes sense, right?"

"I guess." He looked away. "Sorry, maybe I'm worrying too much. I had a major freak-out the first time I did stuff with a guy. And the second guy I did stuff with freaked out because it was his first time. I guess I thought it was normal."

"Maybe it is." I shrugged. "I've never exactly been an expert on normal."

"Right."

I clambered over to the bed next to him. "So... you've been with two guys?"

"Three, actually. Well, four now." He grinned. "I've also done stuff with two girls." He must have noticed my expression shift. "Is... that okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, it's not that. It's just... I'm just a bit worried I'm not being very responsible."

"That seems like a boring thing to worry about."

"Yeah, but I'd rather worry about that than about whether I have Chlamydia or not."

"Right. Well, I haven't given you Chlamydia."

"Have you been tested?"

"I have, actually." He immediately relaxed. "Really recently too. December. Completely clean. I went with a friend who was freaking out about a hookup. Pretty funny story- although, crap, actually I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"It's another gay guy who's not out yet. So I feel like I shouldn't be talking about him."

"Okay."

"Anyway, I've got the results document on my phone if you want to see it."

"No, that's okay. I trust you." I bit my lip. "I probably should have asked you before, though."

"Probably, but oh well. I guess you're just lucky it's me."

"Yeah." I grinned broadly. Pretty damn lucky.

He leaned over and pecked me on the lips, smiling, and then hopped off the bed and began to wander around my room. Everything he came across, he spent a minute or two inspecting -- my guitars and keyboard, the fancy marble chess set on my desk. He even opened some of the cupboards in my little kitchen area when he reached it. At my bookcase, he tilted his head to the side, and stood there like that, reading the titles. He wandered over to my TV, and began picking up and examining some of the video games there.

This kind of behaviour normally would have annoyed me. I don't really like people invading my private space, and I definitely would have shouted at any of my siblings for roaming around with the intention of touching all my stuff. But I just calmly watched Eric making his way around my room like it was some kind of museum exhibit about me, and found I didn't mind at all. I started to almost see myself through his eyes, and I felt like I came across pretty well.

"Why'd you get a PlayStation and not an Xbox?" he asked, holding up one of the games he was looking at.

"Because I wrote to Santa asking for a PlayStation, and I was a good boy last year?"

"Smartass."

"Thank you."

"Seriously though. PlayStations suck. You should have gotten an Xbox instead."

"Do you want to argue about consoles like a couple of nerds, or do you want to come here and kiss me again like a couple of nerds in a porno?"

Instead of answering, he hastily dropped the game and hopped back on the bed, and shoved his tongue in my mouth. Our bodies coiled together, and we let our hands roam over every inch of surface we could reach. It was only now that I felt I could be more patient, and take the time to let every possible aspect of him flood my senses. By the time we broke apart, we were both fully hard again, lying side by side on the bed.

"Can I ask you something?"

"As long as it's not about gaming consoles."

"It isn't." He laughed. "You can say no. I know you want to take things slow... But I kind of want to suck your dick."

"Okay," I said, far too quickly, but I wasn't really feeling self-conscious any more.

"You don't have to feel like you need to reciprocate or anything. I just... really want to do it. I want to taste your cum."

"Yeah." I nearly choked. "Yeah, that's fine."

He pulled me in for a brief kiss before slowly working his way down my torso. I lay back, and watched with fevered anticipation as he got nearer and nearer. Every kiss or stroke of his tongue as he moved down my chest and stomach drove me wild. Even the way his stubble grazed me slightly, and the warmth of his breath on my skin, was driving me wild. By the time he reached my dick, I was already pretty much right on the edge.

He began to tease me with his tongue, eliciting moans from me as he ran it lightly over my balls, shaft and head. After a short round of that, he clearly got impatient, and went for what he was really after -- completely engulfing me with his mouth.

I wasn't quite prepared for the sensation. I'd sort of assumed I'd know what it would feel like -- everything else so far had been incredibly hot, and every graze of skin tended to send pleasure flowing through my body. But I hadn't been surprised by any of the basic sensations of touch or temperature.

This was different -- his mouth felt impossibly warm and impossibly wet, and I let out a massive groan as he took me in. His eyes locked on mine as he did it, and he looked pretty pleased with himself. His mouth was alive in ways I just didn't expect, and it felt like the entire length of my dick was being actively stimulated all at once. He bobbed up and down, and I could feel his tongue running along in certain areas in a way that was both repetitive yet completely unpredictable.

He got into a rhythm, and I quickly got carried away by the flow, the waves building and building again until any effort on my part to hold back was rendered insignificant. I gasped, my hands roughly clenching the sheets.

"Oh god, Eric, I'm going to cum."

He looked up at me again, fixing his gaze to mine, and that did it. I felt myself releasing, gushing into his mouth. He swallowed every last drop, and lingered down there, milking me for everything I had. He eventually pulled away and lay back down on my right.

"Fuck, that was hot. You taste amazing." His dick was leaking pre-cum, and he reached down with his right hand and began to pump it, as he gazed intensely into my eyes. "Kiss me."

I happily obliged, and his mouth tasted faintly of my cum. I turned over and pressed my body against him as the rhythm of his pumping quickened. He began to start uttering little moans periodically, and I was almost at the point of starting to get hard again when I felt his whole body tense.

"Oh fuck."

We both looked down as several streams of cum shot out onto his abs, and began pooling in his belly button. His heavy breathing subsided, and I grabbed the towel we'd been using and wiped him down.

"Thanks." He yawned. His beautiful blue eyes suddenly looked like they were struggling to stay open.

"No problem." I lay back down next to him, and just ran my hand up and down his chest. His skin was so smooth and tan, and the muscles underneath fascinated me. I could have easily kept doing that for hours.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked lazily.

"What?"

"Tell me what you're thinking."

"Okay, um." I looked away, studying the books that had fallen off my bedside table. "We used to spend a lot of our December holidays in Margate -- it's near Durban."

He laughed softly. "Okay..."

"The water's warm there, not like here. You could stay in it all day. So we did."

"Sounds nice."

"It was." I smiled. "We usually spent the whole day jumping up and down in the waves, only stopping for lunch, or to reapply sunblock. But when we got back to the apartment, and I lay there on the bed or the couch, you'd sort of feel like you were still in the waves. Like you'd gotten used to going up and down the whole day, and when you stopped, it was staying still that felt like movement."

"And that's what you were thinking about?"

"Kind of."

"Okay." He grinned at me lazily, leaving it at that. We lapsed back into a comfortable silence, and since he didn't seem to mind, I just kept running my hand over his upper body.

At some point, the garage door rumbled. My room is pretty much right next to it, so it tends to feel like a seismic event when it happens. A car door slammed, and I heard a voice I was pretty sure was my mom's. Eric seemed to wake up a bit, and gave me a nervous look. I reached over and turned off the lamp. The room plunged into relative darkness, with only filtered street-light coming in from the exterior window. The sounds of activity in the garage quickly faded, and no one knocked on my door.

"Do you want me to go home?" Eric asked softly.

"Absolutely not."

"Won't it be a problem for you if I'm still here tomorrow morning?"

"Not really," I said, propping myself up. "We'll probably be up before anyone else in my family is."

"And if we're not?"