He curses as my tongue circles the tip of his cock, toying with the piercing there. A burst of warmth surges through me at the thought of the metal rubbing at my prostate. When he’d first fingered my ass while sucking me off, I nearly lost my mind. I was apprehensive to begin with, but it quickly turned to begging for more. I’m not sure I’ll completely love a dick up my ass, but if Alis can take it, surely I can too. Usually, whatever he can do, I can do better.
“You look evil right now,” Alis murmurs, panting and eagerly trying to push the crown of his dick past my lips.
“Just reminding myself that I’m better at being gay than you.”
“That’s not a thing, man.”
“I just made it a thing.”
“There aren’t levels of gayness. You don’t get to beat certain levels and win gold coins or some shit.”
“But if you could, I’d be at least three levels above you, and you’d be begging to borrow some of my coins.”
“I’m not arguing about this with you because it’s fucking dumb.”
“You’re not arguing because it’s no contest.”
“You’ll never be at my level anyway,” he argues, because let’s face it, he has to win when it comes to the things we do together. “You’re bi. I beat you by fifty percent—”
I choke on his dick while he chokes on his words. Whatever verbal argument he thought he was winning ended the second I got his cock down my throat. I might be bisexual, but I’m all sexual when it comes to Alis Sommers. He drives me crazy in the best possible ways. Makes me forget all the stupid, terrible shit in my life and want to protect him from the stupid, terrible shit in his own life. My problems with Dad, Mom, Carrie, Damon—they all fade when I have this guy pinned beneath me, keening as I suck on his dick like it’s an Olympic sport and I’m trying to earn a fucking gold medal.
He comes so quickly, I’m pretty sure he’s won some sort of Guinness World Record. When I articulate as much, we wrestle around on the bed, tangling the sheets and laughing until he’s showing me with his perfect, extremely expert tongue that I can once again beat Wonderland.
I come down his eager throat, much quicker than he came down mine.
Fuck, I’ll never tire of how he makes me feel. It’s terrifying to be so overcome with such intense emotion and need, but it’s also exhilarating. I’ve been hurting for too long because of my family troubles.
This feels good and right and fulfilling.
I’ll give him that sense of home and the future he craves.
All he has to do is give me one thing…
Him.
Alister
Waking up with Canyon Voss naked and snoring on my chest is something I could get used to. The warm, anchoring sensation chases away the cold memories of the past that crept up on me in the early hours of the morning.
My gaze drifts to the poster he hung on my wall.
Of us.
A smile tugs at my lips. Not us. Them. Daisuke and Chibi. But I can’t help but see Canyon’s taunting smirk anytime we watch the show.
“I can hear you smiling,” Canyon gripes, his voice raspy with sleep as his words tickle across my chest. “It’s too loud for seven in the morning.”
“Six,” I tell him cheerily.
He grumbles something unintelligible that has me chuckling. All the bullshit in my life is muted when I’m with him. Together, we’re trapped in our peaceful bubble where everything feels good. Really good. No worries or stress or fear. Just us and a lot of orgasms.
“They’ll kill us,” I say with a sigh. “Our dads will kill us.”
Canyon scoots up the bed, burying his face against the side of my neck and kissing me sweetly. His affectionate nature is addictive. Being wrapped up in his loving embrace is almost too much to bear. It makes me yearn for things I have no business feeling or wanting.
Hope. Happiness. Love.
“They won’t kill us,” he murmurs in a sleepy voice. “Promise.”
“They will.”
“Do you really think I’m going to let anyone hurt you?”
The sharp, serious blade to his tone has me calming. Whatever it is Canyon and I are doing together, it’s not a joke. He’s not playing with me or using me to pass the time. He wants and needs me like I want and need him. His protective nature blankets me and keeps me warm.
“Careful, Voss,” I tease. “Keep trying to be perfect, and one day I’m going to think you are.”
“One day?” He scoffs. “We both know you think that day is today.”
His hand finds mine, and he threads our fingers together. My heart skips a beat at his gentle, assuring touch. How can being with him feel so damn right when, if it got out to people, they’d see it as completely wrong?