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He doesn’t wait for me to answer, but comes close enough to kiss me.

I close my eyes when I feel his fingers brush the skin beneath my belly button.

Dropping my hands, I let him do the rest, the slide of the zipper loud in the otherwise quiet room.

He tilts his head away once he’s got the waist undone, placing his palms on my hips and running them down my legs as he kneels down to pull my jeans all the way off.

The move is so sexy, I suddenly feel very unmoored and shaky.

Unsure of myself, and him. I’m not someone who has a lot of dating experience with men or women, and I think it’s very apparent that Nate does.

“I… Are we…?” I can’t think about what suddenly seemed so important to ask, because he’s kissing his way back up my stomach and it feels so fucking good .

“What’s that?” he asks once he reaches my mouth. There’s a smile on his when he kisses me, like he knows exactly how fried my brain is right now.

“Uhm. What are we doing? I don’t—” Clamping my lips shut, I wait for him to answer the first question before saying more.

I’d been about to tell him that I don’t know how long I’m going to be able to stand his hands on me, and that maybe we shouldn’t commit to anything crazy. Maybe we need to hurry up.

He frowns, an expression that shouldn’t be adorable, but is. He’s got such a wonderfully animated face.

“Oh. I guess I didn’t…”

His hands, which were resting on my hips, slide gently up and down my sides as he thinks.

We’re both naked but for our briefs, and both very obviously hard, but he hasn’t made a big production out of looking at me, which I appreciate.

Being ogled is right up there with being touched unnecessarily on the list of things I don’t enjoy.

“Well, fuck.” He laughs. “I was so excited you were coming over I didn’t even think about… I’ve got lube and condoms,” he says, glancing over at his nightstand and biting his lip uncertainly. “I’ve never, though…”

Putting a hand on the center of his chest, I spread my fingers as wide as they can go. His heart thuds wildly against his sternum, and his wide green eyes meet mine. Rough hands make another pass from my hips up to my rib cage. He’s nervous.

“Do you want to lie on the bed and I’ll blow you?” I ask him, which is about as far as I’m willing to take any dirty talk. Even saying that makes me feel oddly self-conscious.

“Fuck. Fuck. Yes, okay, sure.” He leans down to give me another toe-curling kiss, pressing his mouth hard against mine. “Only if you want to, though. It’s okay if you don’t. I’m just so glad you’re here.”

He laughs again, a slightly more nervous sound this time, as he pulls his boxers off and climbs on to his bed, flopping onto his back with his head pillowed on an arm.

He spreads his legs a little bit as I stop next to the bed and put a hand on his thigh, ignoring the way my heart kicks at the contact.

No, I tell myself, not now. Not fucking now.

“Don’t mind me if I chat the whole time,” he says, which startles a laugh out of me. He looks delighted, face breaking into a wide grin. “I’m a talker when I’m nervous.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true. Now, I know we’ve only just met and all, but I get the impression that you’re not a talker, ever.”

“Incredible powers of deduction.”

“Watch out, Sherlock,” he jokes, holding both arms up and wiggling his fingers at me. “Come here. I can’t talk if my mouth is busy.”

I discard my own boxers before I go. Leaning over him, I make sure to hold the majority of my body off of his, unsure whether this “good day” will translate into lying fully naked on top of another fully naked man.

He sighs when I kiss him, fingers in my hair and an ankle hooked over mine.

I think that if this were all we were going to do today, I’d leave happier than I’ve been in a long time.

Nate’s fingers ghost along my ribs and in toward my spine, the touch light enough that goose bumps pebble my skin.

I can’t tell if he’s trying to be respectful or if this is the way he usually goes about things.

Either way, I’m appreciative—the touch is barely there and perfectly manageable for me right now.

Kissing down his neck slower than I’d done earlier, I slide my lips across the smooth line of his collarbone.

He doesn’t have any chest hair, but he does have a surprising number of scars.

Running my tongue over one particularly long one, his stomach hitches as though he’s ticklish .

“What’s that from?” I ask, lifting my mouth off of him just high enough to speak.

“Uhm, it’s…that was from a barbed wire fence,” he replies, a touch breathlessly. His thigh twitches against mine when I lean down and graze the tip of my nose across another one.

“And this one?”

“Burn. Fire poker. My…my cousin wacked me with it.”

I tuck that little tidbit about his life away for later, and get back to the important business at hand.

Nate’s belly quivers as I explore with lips and tongue, occasionally huffing out a sharp exhale when I come across a particularly ticklish spot.

I smile against him, lips pressed to his pelvis—he’s trying so hard to be still.

Kissing down his thigh, I wrap my fingers gently around his dick. He shudders, and starts up on the chatting he promised me earlier. Oddly, the fact that he’s nervous makes me less so.

“God, I can’t fucking believe this is happening. This is all I’ve been thinking about, and now you’re here.” He cuts off with a soft gasp when I tighten my hand and give him a firm stroke at the same time I nip at his inner thigh. “Do you—do you want the lube?”

“No,” I murmur. Even if I hadn’t already been planning on sucking him, I would have passed on the lube. I’ve never liked the way it feels on my hands, and now is not the moment to tempt fate as far as my touch aversion goes.

“Okay, that’s fine. You’re doing fine.”

I laugh, biting a little harder on his leg. He lifts up and grins down at me, nudging me with his knee.

“Lie down,” I tell him. “I’ll show you fine.”

He laughs but cuts off on a groan when I suck him into my mouth.

I do my best attempt at deep throating, but pull back the second my gag reflex kicks in.

Retreating to the tip, I bob my head shallowly, while making up the difference with my fist. Nate moans, hips arching rhythmically upward as he carefully fucks himself into my mouth.

He’s no longer talking, which I hope means that he’s no longer nervous.

When I notice my heart rate start to pick up in direct opposition to how little I’m moving, I reach a hand down between us to stroke myself.

My skin is breaking out in a sweat, and the room feels ten degrees hotter than it did when we got up here.

Setting an almost punishing rhythm with my hand, I hollow my cheeks and suck Nate’s dick as far as I can down the back of my throat.

He says something, but I miss it when he comes, hips still rising and falling as he works himself to completion.

Sliding back until just the head of his cock is in my mouth, I groan around him when I come on the bedspread.

The moment I can, I sit back, making sure to scoot my knees away from him so we’re no longer touching.

He’d spread his legs wide to accommodate me, which means, kneeling here at the end of the bed, I’ve got quite a lovely view.

When he opens his eyes and looks down at me, cheeks a little red and eyes bright, I feel it in my belly.

I am so screwed.

“Come up here,” he requests, holding out his hand. I shake my head mutely, looking at that hand. My skin feels clammy with cold sweat, and my chest aches from the effort of keeping my heart rate at a manageable level. I don’t think I can touch him anymore. I need a break.

“I can’t.”

He stares at me, dropping his hand down and leaning up on his elbows. After a moment, he shuffles over toward the wall, lips quirking upward when his calf encounters the wet spot on the bed where I came.

“Sorry. I’ll clean that up.” Embarrassed, I reach for my underwear, intending to go grab a towel from the bathroom.

“Wait, don’t go. It’s fine. Do you want to lie here?” He pats the spot he just vacated hopefully, grinning at me. I eye the space, trying to calculate whether we can both fit on our backs without touching.

“Okay, but…please don’t touch me.” I will myself not to blush or stammer my way through that sentence, humiliating as it is.

I’m feeling a little ill, and I need a second to try and control it.

We might as well be on the moon, for how little oxygen is in this room right now.

Nate only scoots a little closer to the wall and smiles, patting the bed once more in a silent appeal.

Carefully, I stretch out next to him, still wishing I’d put on my underwear, but happy that I’m at least no longer in his direct line of sight.

He rests both his hands on his stomach, and sighs.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he tells me, for about the dozenth time.

“Me too.”

“You’re better at blowjobs than I am.”

“Not really.” I scoff, thinking back to the night we met. He clears his throat.

“Can I ask you a question?” I hum acquiesce, but stay silent. I already know what he’s going to ask. “Can you explain the no-touching thing? Is it…like, a phobia?”

“No, I don’t think so. Listen, I can’t explain it because I don’t really understand. I’ve never talked to anyone about it before. I just don’t really like it when people touch me, and I feel…wrong when people do. That’s all. ”

“But it’s okay sometimes? Like, just now? Or were you doing that even though you didn’t really want to?”

I glance over at him to find worried green eyes already on my face. “No, it’s okay sometimes. It’s gotten a little worse the past couple of years, but I feel mostly fine with you.”