Page 14 of Loosened Up for My Bud

I turn around and watch him peel the sweat-soaked jersey over his head. His muscles are still pumped from practice, a sheen of sweat highlighting every ridge and plane. His chest is broad, dusted with dark hair that narrows to a trail leading down to the base of his cock, which juts out from a thatch of matching curls. He throws the jersey on the floor with the rest of our discarded clothes, and he’s just… Stone. My buddy. Fully, achingly naked.

My eyes roam over him, taking in the details I’ve seen a hundred times but never really looked at before. The small white scar on his shoulder from a particularly nasty tackle freshman year. The way his left bicep is just a little bigger than his right. The solid, masculine line of his jaw, now dark with stubble. I’ve never seen him like this. Not really. Not with the hunger that’s currently twisting my guts.

“Better?” he asks as he steps closer, his eyes dragging over my naked body.

“Yeah,” I say, my throat tight. “Better.”

He closes the gap and puts a hand on my chest, right over my hammering heart. His palm is warm and calloused, the texture brushing my nipple. His other hand slides to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my damp hair. He pulls me in, and for a second I think he’s going to kiss me. My breath catches.

But he doesn’t. He rests his forehead against mine instead, his nose brushing my cheek. We’re so close I can feel his breathon my lips, smell the lingering scent of mint from the gum he always chews. Our cocks are trapped between our bodies, pressing against each other’s stomachs, slick with sweat and precum.

“This is crazy,” he whispers. “Fucking crazy.”

“Tell me about it,” I whisper back. My hands find his waist, my fingers digging into the firm muscle there. I can feel the tension thrumming through him, the same frantic energy that’s coursing through my own veins.

“Why do I feel like I’ve wanted this forever and never knew it?” He sounds genuinely confused.

“I don’t know, man,” I say. Because I don’t. All I know is that the past three years suddenly feel like they’ve been leading up to this exact moment. All those shared showers, those drunken nights, those stupid dares… was it all just foreplay?

“I know this is gonna sound weird,” he says, his thumb stroking the side of my neck. “But I really feel like kissing you right now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His eyes are dark and intense, pupils blown wide. “That’s too much, though, right?”

“I don’t know, man. You were balls-deep in my ass a minute ago. I feel like we’ve moved past ‘too much.’”

“When you put it like that…” He lets out a short, breathy laugh. “But I’m worried if I start, I won’t be able to stop.”

“Just shut up and do it, Stone. For once in your life, stop talking and just do it.”

And then he does.

7

It’s not a sweet, gentle kiss. Oh no. It’s a desperate, hungry clash of teeth and tongues. A mess. A wet, frantic, almost violent joining that’s more like a fight than anything else. We’re battling for control. He bites my lower lip, and I groan into his mouth, my hands sliding up his back, feeling the damp skin and the hard muscle beneath.

I kiss him with all the frustration and confusion and want that’s been building inside me all day. He kisses me back just as hard, one hand sliding down my back to grab my ass, pulling me against him even tighter. Our bodies are a tangle of slick, sweaty limbs, our cocks grinding together between us.

His lips are surprisingly soft. A little chapped from the sun and wind, but soft. His tongue is in my mouth, and I suck on it, tasting that sugary sports drink he’s always chugging.

I’ve kissed a lot of girls. A lot. Some were good, some were bad. But none of them have ever kissed me like this. None of them have ever made me feel so consumed, so utterly devoured. It’s like he’s trying to crawl inside me, to possess me from the inside out.

I don’t think I could get any harder, but I do. My cock throbs between us, smearing precum against his stomach. His is just as hard, and we grind our hips together, seeking the friction we both desperately need.

His stubble scratches against my chin, and I know I’ll have beard burn after this. I’ve seen those red marks on girls after they hook up with guys. Now I’m one of them.

When we finally break apart, we’re both gasping for air. My lips feel swollen and bruised. There’s a smear of spit on his chin, and when I wipe it away with my thumb, the corner of his mouth quirks up.

“Fuck, that was…” he trails off. I’ve never seen him speechless before.

“Yeah.”

He’s still got that death grip on my ass. He uses it to turn me around, pushing me toward his desk, which is cluttered with textbooks and empty protein shake containers. “That chair you won. Fair and square, by the way. Let’s officially break it in.”

He sits down, the gaming chair creaking under his weight. His hard cock, glistening with lube and my own slickness, stands up between his thighs. He strokes it once, twice, spreading the fluid over the head, and looks up at me.

“C’mere. Sit on it.” He pats one of his muscular thighs.