Requited Ch. 06

Andy spends the afternoon studying in his room and I lie on the sofa and watch one of the Fast and Furious movies. I couldn't tell you which one. For all I know, it was Fast and Furious 218. I don't have my books with me, so I can't study. Not that I was really planning on studying, even before this whole thing with Andy happened, if I'm being totally honest. My last paper is Quantum Geometry. It's one of my strongest subjects. I've been charging rich kids forty dollars an hour to tutor them on this subject for years. I don't need to study. I do spend a little time thinking about the geometry of moduli spaces of supersymmetric gauge theories, as I lie there, watching the movie, so that's something. I think about it, when I'm not thinking about Andy, so I don't feel entirely bad about not studying.

I get hungry again in the early evening. I'm thirsty, too. I'm probably a little dehydrated. The things Andy and I have been doing to each other, have probably seen to that. I search the fridge and find ingredients to make an Amatriciana sauce, of sorts. The smell of the bacon and garlic sautéing, lures Andy out of his room.

"God, that smells good," he says, as he heads to the shower. I consider following him, but the pasta dish I'm making is at a critical junction. I decide to wait, even though my dick disagrees and is making its point of view known.

"Want a beer?" He says once he's showered.

"Don't you need to study some more?"

"I uh, I think I've done all the studying I can manage for today."

"Gee," I say, "I hope I haven't distracted you."

He gives me a look that I've never seen on him before. His eyes are dark. They take me in and then after a split-second, he smiles a small, crooked smile. It's the first time I've ever seen him looking at me like that. I don't know that look, but it doesn't take a genius to understand it.

That look is pure sex.

My dick was already thickening, now it's solid. Erect.

"Mmmh," he says, after we've eaten, "that was good. Thanks."

"You must have been hungry. We haven't eaten enough today."

He smiles like he did before. He smiles like sex. I'm glad we're sitting down. I'm not sure I could trust my legs to support me right now.

"What are you talking about?" He says, "I've eaten plenty. I've eaten loads."

My brain experiences a major, major short circuit when he says that.

Did Andy Montgomery just talk dirty to me?

I'm shocked. Shocked and aroused. Shocked, aroused and amused. I start laughing. It rushes up from my belly, bubbling out of me, the way only Andy can make me laugh.

I look at him and smile, I let my eyes travel down his face, down his neck. I deliberate for a second before I add, "I'm still hungry."

"Do you want more pasta?" He teases. He's still smiling like sex. Exactly, precisely, like sex.

I shake my head. I'm having trouble breathing and organising my thoughts, but I manage, "That's not what I'm hungry for."

He gets up. He holds my gaze as he saunters around the table. I feel paralyzed. He pulls me up so quickly, I let out a little surprised squawk. His chest is right up against mine. We're touching. Our chest and our hips. My heart is pounding. He runs his hand up my arm and takes my neck gently in his hand. His fingers are just below my jaw. Not squeezing, just holding. Owning. He tilts my head slightly, so my neck is exposed.

"Careful," he murmurs, exhaling a warm breath against my ear, "if you say, "Hungry," like that, one more time, you're going to make me lose control."

"Urghg." I gurgle, turning slightly to face him.

His eyes are hooded. Low. Darker than I've ever seen them. The effect he has on me is indescribable. It's unlike anything I've ever felt. I part my lips and offer him my tongue, before his lips even make contact with mine. I let him pour himself into me again. I tear at his jeans while he does it. I rip open his button but struggle with his zip. He has to help me. There are hands everywhere. Big hands. Male hands. He pushes down his briefs and his jeans and I have him in my hands. His dick in one, his balls in the other. He takes a couple of steps back and I follow, though I'm sinking to my knees as I do. He takes another step or two back, sitting back on the sofa. I'm on my knees, so I crawl over to him. I do it slowly. I don't take my eyes off his dick. I'm breathing through my mouth. Loudly. I can hear it. I've never felt like this before. I've been on my knees before, of course I have. It's always been for fun. Light titillation. This isn't light. It isn't to titillate. It's the first time I've ever felt like I belong on my knees. Like I belong at some one's feet.

"Andy," I say, looking up at him, "I don't know what I'm doing here."

He misunderstands. His eyes open in something resembling horror, he tries to cover himself quickly, "You don't have to. It's fine. We don't have to do this."

"No, no, I want to do this. I want it. I just don't know what the fuck I'm doing."

"Oh, okay," he says and then smiles, pausing and thinking for a while before taking my left hand in his. He grips two fingers in his hand, at my third knuckle. He lifts my fingers up to his mouth, looking down at me, making sure I understand. I give a slight nod. He swirls his tongue around my fingers. I do the same to the head of his dick. He makes his lips soft and nudges the tips of my fingers against them, opening them slowly, little by little. I feel the hot, wet roughness of his tongue against my fingers and do the same to his dick. I do it until there's a slight saltiness when I lick his slit. I swirl my tongue round his tip, teasing his foreskin. I pull it back slightly, raising my eyebrows to him, waiting for him to show me what he wants.

"Yeah," he nods, "like that. Just pull back a little."

His swollen head and slit are exposed a little more. I run my tongue around it, drawing a sharp hiss from him.

"Sensitive?" I ask.

"Mmmh," he moans, "So, so sensitive."

I'm intrigued by the fact he's uncut. I like it. I like everything about him and his dick. I want to know everything about it. I want to know what it feels like for him. I want to know if he has a preference for cut or uncut men. I want to know what he likes, and I want to know how to give it to him. I need to know. I look up at him again. I wait for further instruction.

"Don't force it," he says, as he sinks my fingers into his mouth, "just take what you can."

He takes the entire length of them into his mouth, undulating his tongue ever so slightly. The wetness of his mouth on my fingers makes me groan softly. I take what I can. It's nothing compared to him, but it's more than I managed last night or this morning. I roll my tongue against him, sucking slightly when I raise my head. My mouth is full. Full of his thick, fleshy pole. I love it. I can't get enough. The pressure in my dick is so intense, I can't ignore it anymore. I'm squirming against my jeans. Trying to find any friction I can, to ease the tension. I try to reach down, to rub it, but he catches my wrist. He guides my hand to his dick. I use my hand and my mouth. I was going slowly, but I'm not anymore. I'm in a frenzy.

He taps my shoulder, "West," he says, his voice is low and strained, "if you keep doing that, I'm going to come."

He did this when I went down on him before. He warned me and then pulled out, or he came into his hand, or my hand. This time, I don't want him to do that. I want him. I want his load. I want it because he made it for me. I want it, because it's his. I sink my mouth onto him again. Deeper than before and as I do, he stiffens and moans. It's a deep, lustful sound that comes from his core. He shoots so deep in my mouth, that I don't even taste it at first. I just swallow. I swallow and swallow, until I pull back. I taste the last two or three spurts. They land on my tongue. It tastes salty, in a slightly fruity way. I like it. I want it. I lick his tip until he's quivering as if he's in pain. His head is thrown back against the sofa and his eyes are following me slowly.

"Your turn," he says, pulling me up and switching positions with me. He takes off my t-shirt and works his way down my body with his mouth. I feel delirious. I've never felt this sensitive. Over-sensitive. Just his breath on my neck and my nipples, makes me tremble.

Please, Andy.

His hands are on me now, too. They're on me hard. They seem to know where I'm aching. He knows just how to touch me. Just how much pressure to use.

Please, I can't wait.

He flicks my nipples with his tongue. They feel raw. As if they've been exposed to the outside world for the first time. When they are so hard, they hardly feel like they're part of my body anymore, he grazes them with his teeth. I gasp through my teeth and thrust my hips up.

Touch me. Please touch me. I'm losing my mind.

I can't form the words, but he must hear the voice in my mind. He sinks his mouth down on me and takes more of me than anyone else ever has. He comes up for air and then takes more. From the second he touches me; I can feel my orgasm. It's close. It feels like it's already left my balls. It's so close, I can almost feel it travelling up my shaft. I hold back as hard as I can. I clench my teeth and dig my nails into the sofa. I'm writhing and trying not to scream with the effort. Every breath I exhale takes the form of a ragged, rattle that comes from the back of my throat.

"Fuck!" I gasp, "Fuck, fuck, I can't hold back!"

He pulls up slowly, his lips stimulating every millimetre of me, "I don't want you to hold back. Let go."

He takes me again and the second I feel myself slide into his throat, I let go. I let go with every part of my soul. I let go with parts of me I didn't even know I had. I let go of things I didn't know I was holding onto. I let everything go. Everything. I hold nothing back. The pleasure is so profound, I feel certain it will change me. Alter me. Transform me forever. I know the exact second it starts, but I'm not sure when it ends. It goes on and on. Longer than ever. On and on until everything feels woolly. Vague and unfocussed.

I don't move for a very long time. I can't. At some point, he gets off the floor and comes to sit next to me on the sofa. I can't move. I don't have command of my body yet, but as soon as I do, I lean my head down and rest it on his shoulder. We stay there like that until it's time to sleep. We watch something on TV. Fast and Furious 2546, for all I know.

Tonight, I'm aware of him, as I sleep beside him. I feel his presence. His heat. His body. Last night, I passed out as if I was in a stupor, but tonight, I know he's there. I feel it when he moves. I'm aware of his skin against mine. At some point, I'm on my belly and he's on his side next to me, one leg slung over mine, and his arm on the small of my back. Holding me down.

I can hardly describe how much I love the feeling of being weighed down by Andy.

*