Page 118 of Man On

He smacks my hand away from my dick and wraps his fingers around me, alternating between stroking me and playing with the skin. I groan each time he edges me close to orgasm and pulls back, finally growling and threatening to tear his ass apart. Eyes locked on mine, he wraps his lips around my cock and swirls his tongue inside the foreskin, licking up his own release. My head falls back against the bed.

"Bend your knees," he says, getting to his knees between my thighs, fingers sliding up the back of my thighs to my ass. "I'm going to make you come so hard, you'll be silly for hours."

He's not gentle, but he doesn't need to be. My hole is already stretched and wet from use. The moment we walked in the door, he had me stripped and lying face down on the bed, where he covered my body with his and fucked me slow, whispering how much he loved me.

There's nothing slow or gentle about the way he attacks my prostate now, thrusting two fingers, and then a third, inside my ass while he jerks my cock, wet with a mixture of my pre-cum and his orgasm. It's intense, and I'm already oversensitive, gasping for air as I'm zapped directly in the balls by what I'm imagining a taser would feel like if a taser felt good.

My spine and legs straighten out as the orgasm shoots through me so viciously, I bite my own tongue. I'm barely aware of the taste of copper filling my mouth as my consciousness floats into the stratosphere. I'm floating once again, held down by the weight of Noah's body, which he settles across my chest just how he knows I like.

I'm transcendent in my favorite place, floating above myself, looking down on the way Noah and I are wrapped around each other. He dozes with his head on my chest, my fingers combing through his messy hair. This man that I fought so hard not to love.

In my floaty space, I can think objectively of all the things that have happened recently, from falling in love with my stepbrother, to getting outed to both our friends and parents, to saying out loud all the things that I've been holding inside for such a long time. Each one of those events caused me indescribable pain, like being stabbed through the heart. They cut me open, and I bled out more with each pass of the knife. But I think it's what I needed, to let all the pain and secrets and fear pour out of me. And now I can stitch myself up into someone new, someone stronger. Someone who isn't afraid to face things head on. Someone who is able to love. Someone who is able to be loved.

The fight isn't over. I'll probably always be my worst enemy, the true rival coming up behind me to take me by surprise. There will be voices, and memories, and triggers, and nightmares.

But I'm not alone anymore.

EPILOGUE

NOAH

"What are we doing, Noah?! We're going to get caught!"

As is our usual dynamic, Lane protests, but he doesn't resist. He can't deny me, or he doesn't want to. I say sit and he sits, no matter how much it pisses him off. I say open and that surly mouth of his shuts up and wraps around my cock. I say bend over, and he not only does it, but he pulls his ass cheeks apart because he knows that's what I want to see. He's programmed to please me.

"Everyone's still busy at the orientation," I assure him, hurrying him through the locker room doors before I start ripping open his pants.

Lane locks the door, because he always does, still. I didn't know until his deposition how much of a privilege it is that he allows me in the room when he showers. It's one of the places he feels most vulnerable, and can be a trigger for panic attacks. But since I know all the cheat codes for helping redirect his thoughts, he likes it when I'm around. He still doesn't shower with the team, but we've come in here a time or two over the last year. Dr. Fenton suggested some gentle pushing of some of his boundaries to help break cycles of things he knows trigger him. And I'm the king of pushing boundaries, so I take my self-appointed job very seriously.

Right now, I'm not thinking about helping him, though. This is just the closest place we can go for me to fuck his brains out. The big, grouchy bastard huffed and whined over having to help man two tables at the campus club fair, but then showed up wearing one of Danny's stupid fucking rainbow soccer shirts. Considering the stupid things are tight on Danny, and Lane is quite a bit bigger than he is, the shirt is stretched to capacity. It's practically painted on his body, his tight little nipples on display with every line and curve of muscle. While he did get a few confused or disapproving looks from people at the Christian Athletes table, he also got more than his fair share of appreciative stares from men and women alike. The Blackbird Pride table has never gotten so much attention. We sold out of bumper stickers and everything.

Danny, of course, thinks it's hilarious. So does Katy, and their boyfriend Rune, who Lane secretly hates because he smells like patchouli and has zero regard for personal space. I like that I get to growl at him whenever he tries to hug Lane, who is scary enough on his own, but is too much of a nice guy to tell the dude to fuck off. He's happy that Danny is happy, though. They've become close friends, even deciding to join the Christian Athletes club together. Junior Pastor Ken, also known as Blaine Fairington—could there be a more pretentious name?—isn’t a fan. I know the douchey name isn’t his fault, but living up to the name certainly is, and so is his open disregard of their club's two new openly gay members. I have no fucks to give when it comes to letting that douchebag know how much I dislike him, and haven't been shy about reminding him what I did to his frat brother's face last year. Because, of course, those two douchebags know each other.

It's important to Lane and Danny both to give representation to LGBTQ+ Christians, and apparently I have to give him space to have his own friends and do his own things. Miah's been too busy with his on-again-off-again girlfriend on weekends, so we have a standing weekly zombie killing spree on Thursday evenings. Although I might have to cancel on him this week, because I'll be too busy burying him alive for pinching Lane's nipple at the club fair. It was the last straw before I had to get out of there.

I bite one of the offending nipples through his stupid shirt, making him hiss before dropping to my knees. Whipping his athletic pants and underwear down in one go, I spit on my fingers and swallow his cock, getting him primed for a quick release. It takes a little longer than usual, probably because we both came less than two hours ago, before he left early to help set up tables. But my cheat code never fails me, and he's busting in my mouth in minutes.

With a mouthful of his load, I grip the neckline of Danny's stupidly tight shirt and rip it right down the middle before spitting his cum all over his chest and abs.

Lane looks alarmed. "You smell like him," I growl, tearing the last pieces of the offending shirt down his arms.

"Noah! I borrowed this! You can't go ripping other people's things!"

"If you're going to walk around looking like a slut in someone else's clothes, then you damn well better expect that I'm going to tear them off you."

His mouth gapes, but instead of waiting for him to come up with something sassy to say, I turn around and push him against some lockers. "Take it all off," I growl. "Now."

Silently, Lane steps out of his shoes and pulls his legs from his pants and underwear. He keeps his eyes locked on mine, a mixture of arousal and delicious indignation, watching me undress at the same time. When he sits down to take his socks off, I crowd him, putting a foot on the bench next to him and grabbing his head. He opens willingly, and I push my cock against the back of his throat, holding it there until he looks up at me.

"Goddamn, I'll never get tired of seeing your mouth stretched around my cock. I'm going to punish this pretty mouth, and then I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll be sore for days." He groans, eyes rolling back as he fondles himself. "No hands," I say, and his eyes go hard. Good, I want him mad at me. I love it when I can fuck all the anger out of him. "You'll come from my cock in your ass alone, or you won't come at all," I tell him. "And you better be quick about it, because there's a tour of the athletic facilities happening in less than an hour."

Shocking him will never get old. It's an even bigger thrill than pissing him off, because it's getting harder to do. But I've got him now. The horrified look of sheer disbelief has me thrusting wildly into his mouth, bringing myself to the edge before pulling out. Lane sucks in breaths and wipes drool and snot away from his face, but his expression has morphed from pissed off and afraid, to a lust drunk shark.

I walk away from him to my locker, pulling out my shower kit. I rarely use it anymore, choosing to walk or jog home with Lane and shower with him. Our dorm apartment this year has a normal sized shower instead of the tiny phone booth, so we shower together most days.

"Come on, little brother. I want to wash away any sign that anyone else has so much as looked at you." He gives me a half-hearted eye roll, but follows his dick, which always follows me.

He stops when I turn on a shower head in the middle of the room, rather than one of the stalls. Giving him a moment to process, I stick my head under the hot spray before reaching into my shower kit for a small bottle of lube that I keep there. I pour some in my hand, turning around to lean against the wall and lazily stroke my cock.

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