Page 20

“I’m so fuckin’ embarrassed,” Anthony groans from the bed.

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” I say from the sink.

“No, it’s not!”

“It really is, Anthony, it’s fine.”

“If it was fine , your ass wouldn’t still be washing my jizz out of your eyeballs!”

I twist off the faucet and bring the towel to my face, patting it dry. “Hey, at least I know I still got it, right?” I tease him. He says nothing back. I turn around to find him lying back on the bed with his arms up and crossed over his face. We’re both still naked. His cock is still hard. I don’t think he cleaned up at all. “Anthony …”

“I wanted to go all night,” he whimpers behind his arms. “I’m not some premature-ejaculatin’ knob goblin who can’t hold back longer than five minutes.”

“Agreed, you’re not. Also, I don’t think that’s … quite what a knob goblin is.”

“Whatever.”

I come back to the bed with a washcloth and sit next to him, putting a hand on his thigh. “It’s okay.”

“Careful,” he says in a mocking tone, “touch my thigh in the wrong way, I’ll spray rockets all over the ceiling.”

“Anthony …”

“I’m like a boy who just discovered his wiener .”

I smirk down at him in thought. Honestly, I don’t know how much of this is him performing his disappointment, or if he really is as mortified as he claims to be. Either way, it’s a little adorable.

I decide to take him seriously. I lie down next to him. “We’ve got all night. You’ll probably be up for trying something else in an hour for all you know. Even in a few minutes.”

“Let’s just order room service and forget we ever tried.”

“This place has room service?”

He lifts his head and shoots me a look. “Seriously? Obviously I was kidding. Do you even have a sense of humor?”

I smirk and shake my head. “Everyone says I have none.”

“Yeah? And you always let others decide what you’ve got or don’t got?” The question makes me go quiet. “People always try to tell me what I am. What I’m not. What I can or can’t do. Ready to watch me fall on my face … before I even try. Guess I can relate. Maybe you do got a sense of humor,” he then says with a shrug. “You could be a real comedian underneath all that … that hard … military … mental seriousness of yours …”

“Mental seriousness …?”

“You know what I mean.”

I snort, holding back a laugh. “I have no idea what you mean.”

He drops his arms to his chest and looks at me. “You literally folded each piece of clothing we took off. Who does that? No one,” he says before I can answer. “Sex isn’t supposed to be all nice and tidy. It’s messy and … and all over the place. I want you to fling my shirt away. Tear it off if you gotta.”

“Tear off your shirt?” Now I laugh. “Like the Hulk? What kind of animal sex are you looking for exactly?”

“People tear each other’s clothes off all the time! You can be a little rough. As long as everyone’s happy. Maybe it’s even hot.”

I chuckle, picturing how differently tonight could’ve gone if I had ripped off his clothes like that. He was so quickly worked up, I doubt he would’ve lasted half as long as he did if I went full animal on him. Am I capable of going full animal like that?

“Besides, it isn’t about just the sex. It’s about you,” he goes on. “Doesn’t it stress you out? Being so disciplined all the time?”

“No. It keeps me calm. Balanced.”

“Calm. Balanced.” He blows air through his lips. “If that works out for you. Sounds stressful to me. You’d probably benefit just to let loose sometimes. Do whatever you want. Break a rule now and then. Do somethin’ bad.”

“Bad?”

“Still can’t believe you thought this place has room service.” He laughs. “This hole in the wall … Did you not see the drug deal goin’ on by the vending machines on our way in? Room service.” He lets out a laugh before covering his face with his arms again. “Shoot, you’re so oblivious sometimes.”

I chuckle halfheartedly, then draw quiet.

After a breath, he tilts his head. “Actually … you’re not. Not at all oblivious. You see every damned thing. Noticed that about you. You don’t let anything get past your eye.”

I turn my head. “You think?”

“Yep.” He pauses. “Well, unless I blinded you with that cum or somethin’. Doesn’t it sting?”

“I’m fairly sure you didn’t impregnate my eye,” I assure him.

He lets out an irritated groan. “Fuckin’ still embarrassed.”

“No need to be.”

“Well, I am.”

I smile, then sit up, grip the wet washcloth, and wipe him off gently, starting with his cock.

He uncovers his face at once and stares down. “Hey, what the hell are you doin’?”

“What’s it look like? Cleaning you up.”

“I don’t need—” His body lets out an erotic moan without his permission when I gently squeeze at the tip and twist a little. “I’m thinkin’ you need to be careful before I shoot at your eye again.”

“You enjoy that?” I ask innocently, doing the same maneuver.

Again, his whole body bucks and he lets out another, longer groan of unbridled pleasure. “Okay, uh, seriously, stop that.”

“Seems like you’re already ready for round two. See how easy that is?” I give the tip one more subtle twist of the cloth. Anthony whimpers in direct response. “Like a control stick.”

He sits up completely and grabs my hand.

I stare back at him.

We’re both holding his dick now, in a way, through the soft wet washcloth.

“I don’t get it,” he says, his voice nearly breath. “How you can make me so damned mad one second … then make me feel like I’m a precious treasure the next.”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

His eyes drift down my face and linger on my lips. “Somethin’ like that.”

The touch of his hand atop mine, the surprising softness of his skin, the way he’s gazing into my eyes right now. “Think I got you all wrong, Anthony. Ever since the gas station.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think you’re a lot more capable than anyone in your life so far has given you credit for. All those wise things you said about letting others decide what we are?” I shake my head. “Went half my life being made to feel like a … like an ant ,” I decide, choosing the right insect. “Only meant to do work. To follow orders, walk in line. Insignificant. Held beneath a thumb … the threat of being … squashed every day …”

“You talkin’ about your old man?”

I meet Anthony’s eyes, surprised. “What?”

“Heard you had a prick of a dad growin’ up.” His grip changes. Now it feels less like he’s stopped me from cleaning his dick and more like we’re holding hands. “I can relate. My dad’s a dick, too. So what’d you do? How’d you get out from under his thumb?”

Something inside me crumbles. “Not sure I … ever did.” I look down. “Some days, still feels like he’s standing over me. Can still see the fear on my mom and little brother’s faces.”

“Fuck that motherfucker for doin’ that to you guys.”

I look at him, startled by his sudden anger on my behalf.

Then he leans forward and kisses me.

Out of the blue. No warning.

His soft lips, igniting me in a way nothing else has before. His force mixed with clumsy innocence, taking charge of my lips like he’s taken charge of a thousand before, confidence manifesting out of something deep inside him, something that’s been yearning to kiss for so long. The kiss is so strong, our lips seem to stay touching when the kiss ends and our faces separate, like hands that aren’t quite ready to let go, stuck together.

I stare into his eyes, breathless.

He stares back into mine.

“I think … I think that’s the first time someone’s ever called anything I said ‘wise’,” mutters Anthony thoughtfully. “I think I got you wrong, too, Bridger. Way wrong.”

“Fuck your dad, too,” I blurt out.

He squints at me, confused. Then suddenly he laughs.

Then I laugh, too.

And then our faces rush together for another kiss. The kiss deepens. The washcloth is forgotten. I’m laying him back down on the bed and crawling over him. His hands find my chest, pressing against them, as I give and take kiss after kiss from his giving lips. The sexual appetite between us is revived in full, and with every charged kiss we share, I feel something letting go inside me.

“I’m ready,” he says against my lips.

I pull back to look into his eyes. “Ready? For what?”

“I want you to … to do it. To fuck me.”

Hearing him say that—those words, those exact words, with that crackled and needing tone of voice, looking at me with those dopey blue eyes—it makes it nearly impossible to resist.

“I brought condoms,” he says. “In my backpack. I don’t know why I did. But I did. I packed lube, too.”

“Lube, too?”

“Please just do it. Please fuck me. I don’t want anyone else on God’s green earth to do it. I want to feel you inside me. I want to … t-to know what it’s like. I want you to do it. Please.”

How the hell do I say no to that?

Why the hell would I say no to that?

“Look, Anthony …” I start.

He sits up at once. “Don’t tell me I’m not ready. Don’t tell me I’ll regret it, or it breaks some rule of yours, or you think I should think it over. If I hadn’t jizzed in your eyeball, we were on our way to havin’ sex already. It was gonna happen. I … I still want it to happen. I ain’t drunk either. Not even a little. I know what I’m …” He swallows hard. His eyes drop to my chest. “… what I’m askin’.”

I kiss him.

Maybe just to shut him up.

To not hear how badly he wants me.

The more I hear him talk, the less in control I am. I can’t make a sound decision. I can’t think through the pros and cons of going all the way with this guy, what it can mean down the road, taking his virginity.

Especially when the day comes that Pete and I have to go.

Where does that leave Anthony?

“Fuck me,” he moans against my lips. “Please.”

I can’t even shut him up with a kiss.

Every single groan that squeezes out of his throat undoes me further. Like his words are little keys to every lock inside me. Tiny crowbars slipped into my door, prying it open, twisting, cracking the doorframe, splinters everywhere.

“Fuck me, Bridger.”

His backpack gets turned over the next instant.

An explosion of clothes I don’t fold and items I don’t see.

Added to that pile I just made: the condom wrapper I just tore open, rolling the condom down my rock hard dick. And the bottle of lube I just squeezed from, slicking myself up.

Anthony flips himself over, his legs hanging off the bed, ass up, apparently having selected his preferred position already. Those pretty blue eyes of his peer back over his shoulder at me, excitement glimmering in them.

I need a minute to appreciate what’s happening right now.

His “cute bubble butt”, borrowing Pete’s words. Mostly firm, with the slightest bit of jiggle to them to draw the eyes. The shape of those two pert globes is exquisite, giving way to his tight thighs beneath them, legs slightly spread. His back is smooth and tapers to his wider shoulders. It’s not the chiseled back of some fantasy cowboy runway model who doesn’t exist. It’s Anthony’s back, real, dimples above his ass, shallow canyon down the middle, otherwise featureless, save for a birthmark near his right shoulder blade and a short scar by his left shoulder.

And over that shoulder, Anthony’s eager face, his eyes shining and excited.

Then: “Come on, man. The hell you waitin’ for?”

I smirk, enjoying his impatience. I stand right behind him and watch those eyes melt when my lubed fingers unexpectedly slide between those cute, plump ass cheeks of his. He groans and drops his head to the bed, muffled now by the sheets. I gently work in one finger, which intensifies the noises he’s making—an instant reward for my efforts. Then I let in one more finger, sliding the two of them in and out with ease, coaxing his ass to open for me.

“Oh my fuck ,” he breathes, barely intelligible. “What are you fuckin’ doin’ to me? Fuckin’ fuck …”

“Exactly what you asked,” I answer, surprising him when my voice comes right by his ear. I’ve crawled over his back, my fingers still teasing his hole. “Rough, you said you want it?”

“Think I can’t take it?” he asks, all his sass back. “Come on, Bridger. I already came, and I want you to come, too. I want you to come so fuckin’ hard. Even if it’s inside me.”

What those words are doing to me …

I smile against his neck. “Who said I won’t make you come again before I do?”

His eyes pop open and his lips part.

Seamlessly, the head of my cock replaces my fingers. While watching the side of his face, I hook my hands under his arms for leverage as I start grinding my hips, working my cock inside him. Anthony’s given up on making any actual words, reduced to just moans and unintelligible nonsense.

“Faster,” he demands.

The boy’s hungry.

I pick up my pace. Anthony is right here with me, the twisting expressions on his face telling me whatever I’m doing is right—and I’d better give him more of it.

“Please, yes, fuck , more!” he groans into the sheets.

I go even deeper. He howls out—and I assume it’s in pleasure, because he doesn’t stop me. By the way, are these walls as paper thin as I predict they are?

The deeper I go, the more his ass presses against me, a literal invitation as I keep pumping him. It isn’t long before every thrust slaps audibly into his ass.

“You slowin’ down?” he throws over his shoulder. “What for? You tuckered out already?”

I pause, staring at the side of his face. “You serious?”

“That all you got? C’mon! Give it to me!”

Is he sure he hasn’t done this before?

I can’t resist a challenge. The more he eggs me on, the harder I go, plowing into him. I grow more aggressive, feeling inspired by his own growls of aggression and animalistic grunting the harder I fuck him.

And every now and then, I lean forward and put a kiss on his ear, because who said romance is dead?

Then I hear a noise. Was that a shout?

Anthony seems to hear it, too, perking his head up. “Oh,” he grunts between my thrusts, apparently realizing what the noise is. He cranes his neck around to shoot me a look. “Did Juni hook up with your pal or somethin’?”

“Huh? Oh.” I’m enjoying reaming his ass so much, it takes my mind a second to catch up. “Yeah. They kinda met at the club.”

“She’s in the room next to mine. I think they’re fornicating .”

I snort at his word choice. “‘Fornicating’? Pete and Juniper?”

“We gotta outdo them.”

“What?”

“Outdo them, you heard me. We gotta be louder. Harder. Bang the damned walls to drown them out.”

“What is this?” I ask through a laugh. “A competition?”

“Goddamned right it is.” He reaches around to smack my ass. He misses, unable to reach it, then flops back down onto the bed. “Get goin’, Bridger! Fuck my brains out! I’m so hard, I’m leakin’ all over the bed.”

“Anthony …”

“We’re gonna need to get new sheets. Y’know.” He eyes me over his shoulder. “Call room service or somethin’.”

That tiny bit of attitude seems to be the fuel.

I rise, grip him by the hips, and go to town pumping my dick inside him. Anthony must feel all the difference, because he needs no help letting out his moans of surprise and ecstasy. “F-F-Fuck!” he cries out, his every word cut up into staccato shouts with my powerful thrusts. “D-D-Damn! G-G-God-damn!”

The bed is bumping against the wall now, loudly.

The lamp on the right nightstand flickers in time with every shove of my dick into Anthony.

Whatever shouts and moaning we heard through the wall, all of it is drowned out by our own.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna come all over the bed,” he wheezes, in a state of delirium. “I’m close already. Again. I can’t believe it. Not even touchin’ it. Are you close? B-Bridge? Fuck.”

“Better hold off,” I warn him, “or you’re just gonna be my toy doll, dangling in my grip, helpless, while I fuck my cum into you.”

Apparently that only turns him on twenty times more. “Jesus, stop talkin’ so dirty like that, I’m serious, I’m gonna blow.”

“Not yet you aren’t, boy.”

“Boy? Did you just call me—?” His fingers claw into the sheets. The bed is now slamming full-force against the wall and creaking indifferently. The bulb in the right lamp goes out. “B-Bridge!”

“Not yet.” Every time I speak, I get a little more demanding. Every time he whimpers back in protest, he gets more helpless. Is this what he imagined? When he begged me to go rough?

I pull out, flip him over without warning, hook my arms under his legs, then slide right back into his ass. On his back now, he gets a full view of me gripping him tight and fucking him relentlessly. His eyes are glued to mine and his mouth won’t close, like he’s in awe of how quickly and effortlessly I rose to the challenge.

He’ll think twice next time he throws a gauntlet.

Anthony grabs his cock, but doesn’t stroke it. Is he trying to strangle the guy to prevent himself from coming early again?

There’s a surprisingly mirthful giggle that comes through the wall. Obviously Juniper. But then comes a loud snapping noise, like a whip, followed by a deep, guttural shout. Was that a cry of pain or redoubled ecstasy?

Poor Pete. What’s he gotten himself into?

“I want to come so hard,” groans Anthony.

Looking down at his face, it’s harder not to just give in to him. The sweet sparkle in his eyes. Dimples that pop out when his face squirms in just the right way. How his forehead scrunches up in that way that looks both cute and angry as he fights to hold back.

“Come inside me,” he begs. “If you can. Please. Come in me.”

He only had to ask once.

Like an early surprise of my own, I rush suddenly over the edge, and then it’s my own face I can’t control as I drop my jaw, all my breaths turn vocal and deep, and I spill inside Anthony. He must be able to feel it, because at once he starts whimpering out like a puppy trying to sing, practically squealing, as he shoots all over his chest and stomach. Neither of us stop, even after it seems we’ve come all we can, as I pump him hard and long, and he cries out in unapologetic pleasure. These old, crumbling walls have no hope of containing us. Every room in this place just heard the joy of two men celebrating having reached their climaxes together.

I just stand there after we’re done, my eyes on Anthony’s, him looking back up at me, as we catch our breath.

“That was so hot,” he whimpers.

“Yeah,” I agree, breathless. I nod down at him. “You okay?”

“More than okay. Perfect. Fuckin’ delirious.” After a moment, his smile drops. “Will you, uh … Will you stay with me? Tonight? Like … here with me? In this bed? Can you sleep with me?”

It’s not so much the question, but how he asks it. Vulnerable. Scared. As if I was planning to just leave now that we’ve finished.

Then another loud snapping noise rings out through the wall, followed by Pete’s unmistakable yelp—and another girlish giggle.

I lift my eyebrows, genuinely surprised, as I glance up at the wall. Anthony does the same, twisting his head around to get a quick look before turning back to me, questions in his eyes. Then he cracks a smile. I do too. Then Anthony bursts into laughter, and suddenly I do as well, unable to stop it, until the cackling pair of us drop onto the bed, side-by-side in hysterics.

I put a bill into the vending machine.

It spits it back out for the sixth time in a row.

From around the corner comes a comically disheveled Pete, his hair sticking up everywhere. There’s a mysterious mark on his arm. Three, actually. He’s walking funny. And his shirt is buttoned one off, looking askew.

He stops when he sees me. “Bridge,” he says, exhausted.

I smirk. “Was she worth it?”

He staggers up to me like a zombie, clings to me to keep on his feet, then groans: “She’s a fuckin’ maniac. A total f-fuckin’ …” His eyes change as his mouth gives way to a dreamy smile. “… sexy … beautiful maniac.”

“You’re something else,” I say through a chuckle, then push the dollar at the machine again. Rejected once more.

Pete grabs it out of my hand and starts flattening it out over his thigh, running it back and forth. “ She’s something else. Unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. I’m kinda scared of her.”

“A little fear is healthy.”

He pops the smoothed bill into the vending machine. It works. Of course it does. “You catching feelings after all? Your problems all solved now? I said all you needed to do was bump his butt.”

“Pete, my guru.” I select the chips Anthony said he liked, then pull them out from the bottom when they drop. “Just let me know if I need to stop by a store and get some ass ointment for you tomorrow. That was your ass getting spanked for the past hour, right? Anthony and I were taking bets. Been enjoying it this whole time.” Pete’s silence draws my attention. His face is flushed. “You realize our rooms are next to each other, right? Adjoining in fact.”

“Of course I did,” he blurts at once.

Of course he didn’t .

I give Pete a pat on the back. “You always did say you liked a kinky gal. Now you’ve got one who’ll chew you up, spit you out, roast you, spank you silly, and do just about everything you’ve ever dreamed … and probably more than you wanted, too.”

Pete gives me a look. Then he smirks and offers his fist. “And you got yourself a guy who keeps you on your toes, and hopefully knocks you off of them now and then, too.”

I grin and bump his fist with my own, then hand him another bill to work his magic with. “Snacks are on me, bud.”

When I return, I find Anthony passed out on top of the sheets, still naked after his shower, apparently unable to wait up. He’s on his stomach, his cute butt showing. I toss the chips onto the table and join him on the bed. He moans as I slip my arms around him, mumbling something I don’t catch. I pull him against my body and hold him tightly, snuggled and warm. It’s just a few minutes later when I realize what he mumbled: “Thanks for staying.”