Page 14 of The Good Student (Straight No More #2)

Asher lowers the zipper slowly. Then he hooks his fingers into the waistband of both my jeans and boxers, pulling them down in one smooth motion.

I step out of them, now as naked as Asher. I resist the urge to cover myself, though I feel exposed in a way that goes beyond physical nudity. This is me, stripped of pretenses, of the identity I've hidden behind for years.

"You're beautiful," Asher says, his voice soft but sincere.

The compliment catches me off guard. I've been called handsome before, attractive, even hot. But beautiful? That's new. And coming from Asher, it feels significant somehow.

"So are you," I reply, surprising myself with the honesty of the statement. But it's true—Asher is beautiful, in a way I never allowed myself to acknowledge before. The lean lines of his body, the contrast of his dark hair against his skin, the expressive quality of his eyes.

He smiles, the expression lighting up his face. "Come here," he says, taking my hand and leading me to the bed. "I want to show you something."

We sit side by side on the edge of the mattress, our thighs touching. Asher turns to face me, his expression serious.

"For your first time, it might be easier if I bottom," he says. "Less pressure on you."

The terminology is new to me, but the meaning is clear enough. "You'd do that?"

"Yeah," Asher says simply. "I want you to enjoy this. And I enjoy both, so it's no hardship."

The casual admission—that Asher has experience both giving and receiving—shouldn't surprise me, but it does. It's another reminder of how new all of this is to me, how much I have to learn.

"Okay," I agree, grateful for Asher's guidance. "What do we do?"

"First," Asher says, reaching for the lube, "I need to get ready for you. It takes preparation."

He shifts position, lying back on the bed, legs spread. The vulnerability of it, the trust it implies, makes something catch in my throat.

"Can I help?" I ask, the words coming out before I can think better of them.

Asher looks surprised, then pleased. "You want to?"

I nod, curiosity and desire overriding any lingering hesitation. "Show me how."

Asher's smile is warm, appreciative. "Okay," he says, handing me the bottle of lube. "Start with plenty of this. More than you think you need."

I take the bottle, squeezing a generous amount onto my fingers as instructed, the gel cool and slick.

"Now," Asher continues, positioning himself more comfortably, "start with one finger. Go slow, and pay attention to how I react."

I nod, my heart racing as I move my hand between Asher's legs. I press one slick finger against Asher's entrance, feeling the muscle resist initially. "Like this?"

"Exactly like that," he confirms, his voice slightly strained. "Keep applying steady pressure, and it'll give."

I follow the instruction, and sure enough, the tight ring of muscle gradually relaxes, allowing my finger to slip inside. The heat and tightness make my cock throb.

"That's it. Now move it around a bit, get me used to the feeling."

I do as instructed, fascinated by the way Asher's body responds, the way his hole gradually relaxes around my finger. "This is... not what I expected," I admit.

"In what way?" Asher asks, propping himself up on his elbows to look at me.

I consider the question, trying to articulate my thoughts. "It's more... intimate than I thought it would be. More... I don't know, connected?"

Asher's expression softens. "That's because it is intimate," he says. "You're literally inside me right now. It doesn't get much more connected than that."

The simple truth of the statement hits me with unexpected force. This isn't just physical pleasure—it's vulnerability, trust, connection. The realization adds another dimension to what we're doing, makes it more significant somehow.

"I'm ready for another finger," Asher says, breaking into my thoughts. "Add more lube first."

I withdraw my finger, add more lubricant, then return with two fingers. The resistance is greater this time, but Asher's body gradually accepts the intrusion. I watch, fascinated, as my fingers disappear into his body.

"Curl them a bit," Asher directs, demonstrating the motion with his own hand. "There's a spot—"

I follow the instruction, and Asher's back arches off the bed, a gasp escaping his lips. "There," he confirms, breathless. "That's the prostate."

I repeat the motion, watching in fascination as Asher reacts, his cock twitching against his stomach, pre-cum beading at the tip.

"Can I..." I hesitate, unsure how to phrase my request.

"Can you what?" Asher prompts, his voice gentle despite the intimate position we're in.

"Can I use my mouth too?" I ask, the words coming out in a rush. "While I do this?"

Asher's eyes widen. "You want to?"

I nod. "I want to make you feel good. Both ways."

"Fuck," Asher breathes, the word sounding like it's been punched out of him. "Yes. Please."

The desperation in his voice sends a thrill through me. I position myself between Asher's legs, maintaining the motion of my fingers while leaning down to take Asher's cock into my mouth.

The angle is awkward, the coordination challenging, but the reward is immediate—Asher makes a sound that's almost a sob, his hands flying to my hair, not guiding, just holding on.

"Philip," he gasps, my name sounding like a prayer. "Fuck, that's... you're..."

The incoherence is deeply satisfying. I find a rhythm, my fingers working inside Asher while my mouth moves on his cock. It's a lot to coordinate, but the feedback from Asher's body makes it worth the effort.

"Wait," Asher says suddenly, his voice strained. "Stop, or I'm going to come."

Pride blooms in my chest at the admission. "Fast learner," I say with a grin.

"Clearly," Asher agrees, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "But maybe slow down a bit? I still need more preparation."

"Right," I nod, reaching for the lube again. "Three fingers?"

"Yes," Asher confirms, settling back against the pillows. "And maybe just fingers for now? Your mouth is... distracting."

I laugh, the sound easing some of the tension in the room. "Too distracting?"

"In the best possible way," Asher assures me. "But I need to focus on relaxing, and that's hard to do when your mouth is doing what it was just doing."

I add more lube, then return to my task, this time with three fingers pressing against Asher's entrance.

The resistance is greater, and Asher's face tightens momentarily in discomfort. "Slow," he instructs. "It's been a while."

I ease back, applying gentler pressure. "Sorry," I murmur. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. Just need to take it slow."

We work together, me carefully increasing the pressure while Asher focuses on relaxing. Gradually, his body accepts the intrusion, three fingers now moving more easily inside him.

"That's it," he encourages. "Spread your fingers a bit, stretch me."

I comply, watching how Asher's face changes with each movement of my fingers.

"How does it feel?" I ask, genuinely curious. "Having someone inside you like this?"

Asher considers the question, his expression thoughtful. "Full," he says finally. "And vulnerable, but in a good way. Like... surrendering, but knowing you're safe."

The description feels unexpectedly poetic.

"I think I'm ready," Asher says after a few more minutes of preparation. "Are you?"

I nod, my mouth too dry for words. I've never wanted anything more in my life than I want this moment, this connection.

"Condom," he reminds me, nodding toward the foil packet on the nightstand.

My hands shake slightly as I tear it open. I've put on condoms before, but never with an audience, never with someone watching me with such heated anticipation. I roll the latex over my aching cock, the sensation almost too much after so long without direct stimulation.

"How do you want me?" Asher asks, his voice husky.

The question catches me off guard. I haven't thought about positions, about the mechanics of how this will work. "I... don't know," I admit. "What's easiest for your first time?"

"For your first time," Asher corrects gently. "I've done this before, remember?"

"Right," I nod, feeling oddly jealous. "What would you recommend then?"

"On your back might be best," Asher suggests. "That way I can control the pace, make sure we don't go too fast."

The mental image of Asher above me, taking control, makes my cock twitch. "Yeah. I want to watch you."

Asher's smile is slow and heated. "I was hoping you'd say that."

We rearrange ourselves, me lying back against the pillows while Asher straddles me. The position puts his body on full display—the lean muscles of his thighs, the flat plane of his stomach, the hard line of his cock curved up toward his navel.

"You're sure about this?" Asher asks, one last check before we cross this final threshold.

"I'm sure," I confirm, my hands coming to rest on Asher's hips. "I want this. I want you."

He nods, reaching for the lube one more time. He slicks my condom-covered cock generously, the touch making my hips buck involuntarily.

"Easy," Asher soothes, his free hand pressing against my chest. "We've got all night."

The reminder helps me regain some control. I watch, breath held, as Asher positions himself, guiding my cock to his hole. The initial pressure is intense, the heat of his body even through the condom making my toes curl.

Asher sinks down slowly, taking me inch by inch. His face is a study in concentration, in the balance between pleasure and adjustment. I force myself to remain still, to let him set the pace, though every instinct screams at me to thrust upward, to bury myself fully in that tight heat.

"Fuck," Asher breathes as he finally settles fully, my cock completely inside him. "You feel... god, you feel good."

He begins to move, a slow rise and fall that has my eyes rolling to the back of my skull. The friction, the heat, the visual of Asher taking his pleasure—it's almost too much to process.

"You can touch me," he says, guiding my hand to his cock. "I like it when both happen at once."

I wrap my fingers around Asher's cock, stroking in time with his movements. The coordination is challenging, but the reward is immediate—Asher's head falls back, a moan escaping his lips that sounds like pure pleasure.

We find a rhythm together, Asher rising and falling while I stroke him, occasionally thrusting upward when the sensation becomes too much to bear passively. The room fills with the sounds of our breathing, the soft slap of skin against skin, the occasional creak of the bed frame.

It's different from any sex I've ever had—the angle, the tightness, the dynamic between us. But the core of it—the connection, the pleasure, the intimacy—is fundamentally the same. And that realization is somehow both surprising and not surprising at all.

"You feel amazing," I gasp, the words escaping before I can think better of them.

Asher's eyes, which had been half-closed in pleasure, open to meet mine. "So do you," he says, the simple honesty in his voice making something twist in my chest. "Better than I imagined, and believe me, I've imagined this a lot."

Our gazes lock, adding another dimension of intimacy to the physical connection. I find I can't look away, don't want to look away. There's something happening here beyond the physical pleasure, something I'm not ready to name but can't deny.

The rhythm of our bodies increases, both chasing our release. I can feel my orgasm building, a hot ball of pleasure at the base of my spine. "I'm close," I warn, my voice strained.

"Me too," Asher gasps, his hand covering mine on his cock, guiding my movements. "Come with me."

The permission, the invitation, pushes me over the edge.

I come with a shout, my hips jerking erratically as pleasure crashes through me in waves.

Through the haze of my own orgasm, I'm aware of Asher following me over the edge, his body tightening around my cock, his release painting my chest and hand in white streaks.

He collapses forward, catching himself on his forearms before he crushes me completely. We stay like that for a moment, forehead to forehead, breathing each other's air, connected in the most intimate way possible.