Page 57 of Necessary Time

I let out a long breath, willing my erection to settle enough to have a conversation. Wesley’s brows knit together, making it clear this was something he’d really been thinking about, and not just in the shower alone, the way I had been.

“What parts, Wesley?”

“Grayson was saying sex should be fun.”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “That’s always been my understanding.”

“Intimacy and fun,” he said, picking at one of his back molars with his tongue, deep in thought. “And I don’t believe that any one thing is more intimate than the other.”

“What do you mean?”

“I used to think that sucking cock was top tier.” As if to demonstrate, he used the flat of his hand to draw a line in the air somewhere above his head, but I missed the exact location because my brain had misfired when he saidsucking cock.

“Do you not now?”

“Maybe not.”

“Are you…” The words wouldn’t come, but I was about to. “Are you saying you want to suck my cock, Wesley?”

He let out a high-pitched laugh.

“I was thinking about you sucking mine.” Wesley licked his lips and looked down at the bulge behind my zipper. “But I don’t hate either idea.”

“Are you sure?” My voice sounded ragged; I barely even recognized it. “Do you want me to suck your cock?”

His eyes rolled back in his head, a shiver tearing through him from his feet to the top of his head.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “I do.”

I could do this. I wanted to do this.

And damn if Wesley asking for what he wanted from me wasn’t one of the hottest things I’d ever heard.

With my hands around his waist, I lifted him up, and in one relatively smooth motion, spun out from beneath him and set Wesley down on the couch. I settled onto the carpet, on my knees between his spread legs. My hands rested on the tops of his thighs, and he fumbled with the fly of his jeans.

“If you hate it, you can stop,” he said quietly, adjusting his underwear to bring his erection in front of my face.

His cock wasn’t huge, not like the kinds I’d seen in porn, but it wasn’t necessarily small either. I knew enough to know that calling it perfect would have been rude, and I was no Goldilocks, but…

“I don’t think I’m going to hate it,” I said, reaching forward and curling my fist around the base of his shaft.

As I wrapped my fingers around him, he pulled his hand away, leaving himself in my hand. This part, I could do. I knew the feel of him almost as well as I knew myself, and Wesley let out a groan while I gave him some slow and lazy strokes while trying to build up the courage to commit to the thing I wanted to do so badly. Between my own legs, my dick had already started to leak copious amounts of precum and the wet friction against my underwear was distracting. I tugged down my fly and pulled my dick out, groaning at how sensitive it already was.

“I’m already halfway there,” he mumbled, scrubbing a hand down his face. The movement pulled his hair out of the well-tended coif he normally wore, loose strands landing against his forehead and dusting against the fringe of his lashes.

“Okay.”

“Wait, before you…” He stopped me, a hand on my hand. Wesley patted me, fingers flexed like he’d wanted to grab my hair but thought better of it.

“Are you sure you want this?” I asked.

Another nervous laugh bubbled out of him. “Oh, God, yeah. I’m really sure. I just wanted to ask if it was okay to come in your mouth.”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know. I can’t imagine I wouldn’t want to, but if you don’t like the idea, I’ll pull out. I can come on your face or in my hand or something.”

I rocked back, dropping my ass onto my heels while keeping his cock in my hand. This was one of those things I’d never be prepared for. Even if I’d been his age or younger having this conversation with someone, I wouldn’t have known what to ask or what to say. It all seemed so simple, a basic conversation about consent and interests and limits, and yet…