I almost run my fingers up the base of his neck before I remember.
“Can I touch your hair?”
Dillon chuckles. “Yeah but…don’t, like, yank on it.”
“I won’t,” I promise. Now I can gently pull his head to mine, do that thing where I hold him while sliding my tongue in his mouth. I’m not caught off guard this time, so I’m not just gonna let Dillon think my game is bad or just for dummies. I kiss down his neck, lick from there to his earlobe, suck on it a little bit, keeping my hands moving the whole time. He won’t be able to think straight by the time I’m through with him.
Dillon pulls me on top of him, wrapping his legs around me. That’s really sexy to me, that he’s so into this, that even though he just came, like, five minutes ago he’s grinding his hips on me.
“Turn the light on,” Dillon says softly.
After a moment to fumble for the remote, the soft light of the LED strip Carter and I installed glows. Dillon doesn’t look any different, but…I guess I have some new feelings about the way he always looks.
“There you are,” he whispers, and, shit, something about that makes me feel even gooier inside. Here I am. Concussed and horny as fuck. Everything else is getting buried deep in the background, but at least Dillon likes what he sees.
Pressing our bodies fully together, I tangle our tongues together. It’s good technique, of course, because I’m a fucking pro, but there’s a kind of weird, like, neediness to what I’m doing. Like I have to kiss him. I need him to make those little noises. I have to feel his hands run up and down my back, even down to squeeze my ass as I kiss him. I need him to want me.
"Oh, fuck me," Dillon breathes, and I don't know if he's just saying that instead of another 'mmm,' or if he really wants me to stick it in right now. Maybe he doesn't know either, because when I pull back a little he looks surprised.
"Turn over," I order.
Dillon immediately goes, "No."
"No?"
He puts his hands on my sides. "Like this, if you’re serious."
"You can't do it, like, doggy style?" I'm mostly joking.
Dillon shakes his head. "I don't want to."
We've about gotten to the end of my sexual knowledge base. It's not like I don't know where my dick goes, but that's a tinier, dryer hole than I'm used to working with. No girl has ever—
"Do you have condoms?" Dillon says.
I lean over him to open the bottom drawer. Condoms and KY, because I’m a gentleman. I pull a condom out and set it on the dresser, and toss the lube onto the mattress. Dillon pops the cap as I lever myself back onto the bed, and he reaches to grasp my wet, not-so-limp dick with a slick hand. This is fucking amazing, and weird, to sit here with my ass on my ankles and Dillon's legs over my thighs, my hands on his hips while his fingers slowly coax my cock back to life.
Our eyes meet, and he goes, “Is your head okay? If it hurts too bad we can stop.”
I can tell him to shut up, or I can put my tongue in his mouth. Of course my head fucking hurts, but that’s not a good enough reason to quit in the middle of whatever this is. So I kiss him, watching Dillon’s eyes close as I get close. He looks so relaxed, so happy, and he’s so good at making out. This is so nice.
He giggles a little bit when I lift myself on my elbows to tear the condom wrapper; my hands are right over his face.
“You know it’s not just like, a stick-it-in situation,” Dillon says. “The next part might gross you out.”
“Think I’ll pussy out, huh?”
This expression I can read because it’s the same one he had right before he kissed me that first time. Dillon one hundred percent thinks I’m gonna bail just because of whatever prep is involved.
He tells me, “I didn’t plan to get fucked, so I’m not stretched. So I—”
“I can do it,” I interrupt. “Middle or first?" I wiggle my fingers at him.
This excellent, like, you-cocky-bastard smile appears on his handsome face. He chooses. “Middle.”
I roll the condom onto my finger and give Dillon the bird. “Get those panties off, motherfucker.”
He laughs, but obeys, then scoots back into that vulnerable, wide open position under me. Hot.
“You can't blame this on the concussion,” Dillon warns, but he’s spreading his legs for me, so who’s blaming things on things, huh?
“I won't,” I promise as I slide my finger into him.
“Ooh,” Dillon moans.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just been a while.”
I run my other hand over his stomach, watching my fingers bump over his abs. “Not since your ex?”
“He preferred bottoming, so—okay, from there, curl your finger upward a little.”
That’s fucking sexy.
Dillon guides me to his G-spot, and then has me stroke it a couple times. Not even kidding, his dick leaks a little precum. Dillon’s not even fully hard, but like, this clearly feels fucking amazing even if it’s just the preparation.
“That’s wild, man,” I tell him.
Dillon has that challenging expression again. He sits up a little, with my fingers still inside him, you guys! and pulls my underwear down a little to look at my erection. “You’ll maybe need one more before I’m ready. Three would be too much.”
I shove him back down and adjust the condom over two fingers. “Three would be barely enough,” I growl, and Dillon giggles.
He’s like putty under my hands, melting and squishy and squirmy in spite of all that fucking muscle. And he’s hard now. I am, too, but like, Dillon’s always chill. This is a brand new version of the guy who told my roommate that we weren’t friends. Four-time All State wide receiver here is crying and begging because I’m scissoring my fingers in his asshole. He tells me “there it is, that’s nice,” and like he can’t help himself starts playing with his cock.
We do get up to three fingers before Dillon stops me.
“Okay, come on,” he says, sounding almost as needy as I’ve been feeling, and shoves my underwear down so that I can kick it to the floor. We rearrange ourselves quickly. Dillon puts my pillow under his back, I roll on a condom and add extra lube. Oh my god, this is actually happening.
I've never been more cautious, pressing slowly, hesitantly as Dillon’s hands on my ass guide me into him. His eyes are shut. I watch his tongue wet his lips, then disappear when the head of my cock slips into his ass, and then reappear between pursed lips. I hold still. Or at least as still as I can when my whole body is shivering. Holy shit. Dillon’s ass is clamped onto my dick like a vise. Oh my god, this feels so fucking good already.
Finally Dillon nods a little, which I take as an okay to start moving. Half a thrust and he immediately groans.
“Shit, Jay.”
“You like that?”
I must sound too cocky for him, because Dillon narrows his blue eyes. “I’ll bet you’re having more fun.”
“I’m having a great time,” I reply, rolling my hips so my cock sinks into him a little more. Dillon’s head slams back against the pillow. He does like it. “You said you like to focus on your partner when you fuck.” I thrust a little harder. “So pay attention.”
Looking up at me, Dillon props himself on his elbows and wiggles his hips a little farther onto my dick. Holy shit.
"Come on," he says again, like I can't.
I lean over to brace my hands by his head. I'll fucking show him.
He's a guy, he's supposed to be able to take it hard. And he does; Dillon's voice gets super high, like I'm fucking his balls off. He doesn't say oh yeah, oh yeah. Dillon says, "Yes, oh yes!" with a full S at the end, his voice quavering, like he can't handle how good it is. It does feel fucking amazing. Fucking. Amazing. My cock has never been so powerful, forcing the sound from him every time I bury it inside him. I'm hot, the room is hot, it's so hot inside him; a furnace that Dillon has been hiding inside his body. His abs clench as he fucks back at me, trying to give what he gets. I'll beat him at this. I'll be so good that he can't keep up. He'll lie beneath me, crying "Oh, yes!" and saying my name, until the only thing he remembers from this whole day is my cock inside him.
I shift a little bit. Fuck it feels so good, so fucking tight. Sweat rolls down my body as I fuck Dillon as hard as I can, holding his hip with one hand and his shoulder with the other. I’ll fucking fuse our pelvises together. Fuck I’m so hard.
"Oh, that's it," Dillon says suddenly.
This is not the angle I expected, but Dillon is going crazy, like, riding my cock from beneath me. Oh my god, it feels so good. He's rolling his hips, and his ass is squeezing me like he wants me to come in him. Holy fuck. Dillon is pulling at his dick with one hand and his other grabs the back of my head. He pulls me to his lips, and I let him.
His breath is hot in my mouth, the taste of salt on his lips pricks my tongue; my eyes squeeze tightly and my fingers curl into his hair. Dillon sighs, begs me, says "yes," and I'm coming, pounding him so hard; it's like my body can't stop fucking him. Even when there's nothing left in my balls and my head is clearing, my hips still thrust like I'm trying to crawl inside him.
It feels like forever, but my pelvis stops seizing and my muscles relax. I'm about to pull out, but Dillon grabs me. "Wait, wait wait," he says quickly, "just let it go soft." He says it like it's for safety and comfort. I would never have thought about that.
"How was that?" I ask, because I can't think of what the fuck else to say.
Dillon laughs, one of those out-of-breath laughs like he's been running suicide drills. He pats my back. "Seven and a half. Almost an eight."
I lever myself up to sit on my heels, still attached to him. My cock keeps trying to get hard again. "What the fuck is a ten?"
His eyes roll upward in thought, then Dillon responds, "Coming without touching myself?"
"You're full of shit," I laugh. "What's a nine, then?"
"So you're saying it was higher than a seven for you," he says with a grin.
What?
Holy shit. What have I done? Am I gay? I can't be. I've been straight my whole life. This is bullshit. This lying, scheming sack of shit lured me into fucking him. I'll kick his ass.
A pillow smacks the side of my face.
"It's okay if you want me to go," Dillon says in that tone he uses when he's trying to tell me what I want to hear. "It's fine; we’re out of the concussion vigil by now."
At least now I'm soft enough to pull out.
The thing is, I know he wants me to stay and be all, "I was totes wrong and I love ya so much, so let's be boyfriends forever. I wrote a song about you." Why else…you know what? I'm just not going to think about it anymore. So I clean myself up, grab my clothes, and go to the showers. I think I say bye. Maybe I don't. Either way, by the time I've washed all the evidence from the night down the drain, Dillon is gone.
He changed my sheets.
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