Page 70 of Shots on Net

Thrown by this completely random and disturbing fact, I’m distracted. “What?”

He looks up at me. “The male cats.”

“Yeah, I was able to puzzle that part out for myself.”

A small giggle bubbles its way up his throat. “Sorry. I was just looking at your dick and it popped into my head. I knew you’d want to know, so I thought I’d share.”

“I’m glad neither of our dicks have penile spines,” I say, seriously, and he bites his lip to keep from laughing. “Come here.”

I reach one hand between us and keep the other on his hip. He’s ducked his head again, watching. Directing him, I apply gentle forward pressure to his hip; he comes easily until I’ve brought him in enough for his tip to push inside. He balks, halting right as I can feel the stretch. I can’t see his face—he’s still watching where our bodies are now connected. I give his hip a squeeze.

“You can move,” I tell him, voice tight. I need him to move. He looks up, wide eyes locking on mine.

“Okay,” he says, and he sounds every bit as strained as I feel.

I put both hands on his hips as he rocks forward experimentally. Oh, thank god. I groan, pulling my knees back into my chest and closing my eyes. He’s moving painfully slow—I can feel every millimeter of movement as he tunnels inward until he bottoms out. I realize I’ve got a death grip on him and loosen my fingers. The last thing I want is to leave bruises on his skin. He’s completely immobile; I open my eyes to find him watching me.

“You can move,” I repeat. I’m about to say more when he gives one fluid thrust and hits my prostate perfectly. Groaning, I arch my back and use every bit of my goalie flexibility to bring my legs up and back. I want him deep. I want to feel him.

“Oh my god,” he murmurs, dropping his forehead down to my shoulder.

I’d agree with him if I wasn’t focusing all of my attention on trying not to blow my load too early. He’s barely moving, his hips rolling languidly and his dick dragging across my prostate so slowly it’s torturous. He’s experimenting, trying to figure out his positioning and rhythm. I’m going to explode long before he does.

The buzzing in my extremities picks up as he moves faster. Sliding one hand down to cup his ass, I squeeze and he gasps. He kisses his way up my neck and then fuses his mouth to mine, moaning. He lowers down enough that his abdomen brushes across my dick every time he thrusts. Yes, yes, yes, I think as I kiss the breath from his lungs.

Heat steadily climbs my spine, release building with Zeke’s every push into my body. I come first—cum painting both of our abdomens with heat. He gasps into my mouth, surprised, and his thrusts become a little more frantic as though me coming eroded some of his control.

“Don’t stop,” I pant, when he shows signs of wanting to slow down, “don’t stop.”

Moaning, he presses his mouth to mine and continues moving. Neither of us can devote much attention to kissing—it’s little more than lips brushing as we move together. I’ve got both hands on his ass now, pulling him in every time he rocks forward, trying to tunnel him deeper. My entire body is buzzing from the sustained pressure against my prostate and my cum is tacky between us. I’m in fucking heaven. He gasps when he comes, tucking his face into my shoulder and dropping on top of me almost immediately. I wait until the movement of his hips stops completely before I carefully lower my feet back to the bed.

Feeling ridiculously emotional, I wrap my arms around him; one hand on the back of his head and the other on his back. I really, wholeheartedly think that if he were to pull away from me right now, I might actually cry. Taking several long, deep breaths, I try to get ahold of myself. The last thing I want is for him to see my face and worry that he hurt me. Don’t mind me, just having an emotional crisis after getting boned, like a goddamn amateur.

Eventually, since this is Zeke, the continued silence becomes worrisome. His face is lodged firmly in the crease of my neck, warm breath coasting over my throat and making me shiver. He hasn’t moved or said a word; the only indication that he’s even awake is the flutter of his eyelashes across my skin when he blinks. I clear my throat.

“Zeke?”

“Mmfph,” he makes an incomprehensible noise. One of his hands moves, fingers toying with my earlobe.

“You okay?”

“I have a lot to say, but I don’t know how to say it,” he says, voice muffled. He adjusts himself, slightly, and the press of his mouth against my neck has me relaxing. He wouldn’t kiss me if something was wrong.

“That’s a first,” I tease. I know what he means, though. I have a lot to say as well, although I’m pretty sure everything I want to say is eventually going to boil down to three words. I should probably feel more freaked out by that than I do; mostly, I just feel content.

“Was that good for you?”

I smile up at the ceiling. Nobody has ever asked me that before. I open my mouth to say something flippant about how I’ve never come so hard in my life, but bite the words back at the last moment. Now’s not the moment and he deserves honesty, even if it’s hard for me to spit it out.

“Yeah, that was good for me. Actually, I’ve never, uhm…that was the best sex has ever felt, for me. Probably because it was with you.” He breathes out hard, against my neck, and kisses me again. Turning my head, I rest my cheek on his hair.

He adjusts again, moving his leg so it’s in a more comfortable position. I’m surprised he hasn’t gotten up to take care of the condom and the mess between us. “Hey, Carter?”

“Yeah?”

“I really like you. And I’m really glad that you’re the first person I’ve done that with.” He turns his face further into my neck, muffling his voice. “And it probably would have made more sense for us to shower after we did this.”

Smiling, I kiss the top of his head. His hair is wet and messy; he smells like me. “Yeah, probably. Want to get up and take care of it?”

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