Page 68 of Man On

My head shakes furiously from side to side. I just want it all to disappear. I want to disappear. My temples throb.

"Hey, Lane. Look at me. Focus on me, okay?"

I do what he says, but the edges of my vision are blurry and it only lasts a second before I look away, searching for an escape. I need to move, run, or rage, and I can’t do that standing on this sidewalk between campus and a pizza restaurant.

"Alright. Alright," Noah says soothingly, looking at our surroundings as a light rain starts again. "Come with me, I have an idea."

I follow Noah blindly, not even bothering to ask him where we're going. I really don't care, as long as we can either get home, or far away from people, as quickly as possible. I'm done. I'm exhausted and I don't think I can hold up this mask anymore today. I'm so out of my mind that I can't process anything. The cacophony of noises and thoughts blurring together into an odd numbness. I’ve been numb since my mom broke the news about the documentary, and the wall I’ve built around myself these past four years crumbled around me. Numb in an uncomfortable way that makes me want to push the boundaries of my body and soul just to feel anything other than the bone-deep pain my memories are drowning me in.

My back hits something, jarring me back to my senses. The surface behind my back is damp and rough—the wide trunk of a tree in a tight copse that blocks out any view of the sky and the surrounding buildings. Fat drops of cold water splash against my skin intermittently as the canopy blocks most of the rainfall. Noah's hands are hot through the wet fabric of my shirt that is plastered to my body. They make their way down my shoulders, chest, and stomach, before his fingers fumble with the drawstring on my athletic pants.

My brain takes a moment to catch up to what is happening, but my body seems to be perfectly on track. By the time Noah pushes his hand inside and wraps his fingers around my length, I'm hard and ready. When Noah drops to his knees and his warm, wet mouth encases my dick, I stop trying to think at all, and surrender to the pleasure. It overwhelms everything else. The rush of blood from my head to my crotch makes me lightheaded in a good way, and I lean back against the tree.

Noah alternates between taking me as deep as he can, and sucking on just the head. The change in sensations keeps me on edge in a different way, pulling all my attention to what Noah is doing to me. He strokes while he sucks, tests his gag reflex, and then goes back to the head. Every time I make a sound or jerk in his hold, it feels like he's making a note, always coming back to that same action. Like he's learning how to play an instrument.

He's a quick learner. It doesn't take long before I'm right there, calling out a warning that I'm going to come soon. Reminders of his cum splashing across my face flash through my mind, bringing me even closer to the edge. I'm seconds away from falling over and bursting in Noah's hot mouth, when he abruptly stops.

A choked groan leaves me, and then reality hits and I look around, worried that maybe we’ve been caught. I can't believe we were doing this outside. It’s so reckless. It’s a testament of how far gone I am that I’ve moved past not believing that we're doing this at all.

Noah stands inches from my face, forcing me to focus on him while he tucks me gently back into my pants. I'm throbbing, almost in pain from being pulled back like that. Before I can open my mouth and ask what's wrong, why he stopped, he cuts me off with two fingers placed over my lips.

"Let’s get home so we can paint each other in cum," he says, pulling my hand until my back leaves the tree.

My brain completely shuts down, there’s not one thought other than getting my chance to get my mouth on him playing on repeat. I don't know how we make it back to our room, or if anyone saw us running through the rain, both of us with massive hard-ons. I don't know if anyone heard Noah groan that he was going to paint me with his cum as he walked behind me in the stairwell. I think I imagined looking back and seeing him staring at my ass like he might want to reach forward and take a bite.

"Hurry," he says, as I'm struggling to get the key in the door. His tall, lithe body presses into me from the back, and we tumble into our apartment.

CHAPTER 21

NOAH

Fucking finally.

"I've been waiting all fucking day for this," I say as I stalk towards him, not even bothering to wait for the door to close behind me before I'm whipping my wet shirt over my head.

Lane's eyes trail over my chest and abs, landing on the front of my pants. Even through the heaviness of the soaked fabric, my cock is trying to escape the confines of these blasted fucking skinny jeans. It's why we had to get home as soon as possible. I wore these jeans to tease him, and now I'm being punished for it, because now I'm stuck inside a soaking wet pair of skinny jeans with a massive erection, and he never looked at me twice.

But he's looking at me now.

I shake out my hair, and water sprays around me. I comb it back out of my eyes to meet Lane’s gaze. He's giving me that hard glare that gets my heart racing, his pale eyes darkening, pupils growing. This is where I want him, in the zone where he’s frenzied and mindless. He's got my scent, I can only hope he eats me alive.

"All day?" he asks.

"All fucking day," I repeat. "Why aren't you stripping?"

It's more of an order than a question, but he doesn't move. I'm down to just my soda and rain-soaked jeans, which I unbutton slowly as I walk towards where Lane is standing. I leave them open, pushing the waistband low enough on my hips that my dark pubic hair peeks out. He stares at me with unbridled need as I push my hands under the bottom of his shirt.

"Hands up," I whisper, and he complies. He always complies. It makes my cock throb harder. "I had plans to play with my new toy this weekend," I say, pulling the shirt over his head. “But you’ve been avoiding me.”

His pouty lips open, and I bite mine. My eyes trace over all the curves of his muscles, unsure of where I want to touch him first. Leaning in close, I bypass his lips, touching my mouth to his jawline instead. I don't kiss him, more like run my lips over the hard lines of his jaw. When I close in on his ear, I whisper, "All fucking day," before pulling his earlobe into my mouth. He makes a little sound, though he covers it quickly. I bite down to show my displeasure, but not too hard.

I like his sounds. I crave them. Need them.

I trail closed mouth kisses down his neck and collarbone, and then back up to the knot on his throat. He lifts his chin, granting me access. Wrapping my lips around his Adam's apple, I suck gently, resolving to spend as long as I need pulling every sound out of him I can. With that thought, I kiss down his body, lowering to my knees as I go. My tongue swirls around his belly button and licks up the side of the heavenly V of his lower abs as I push his pants and underwear down his legs. He rests a hand on my shoulder while I direct him to lift each leg so I can toss his pants in the pile of wet clothes I started. My hands slide up the insides of his legs and thighs as I stand again, bypassing his jutting cock.

I walk around his body, appreciating every flawless, chiseled inch on display. He'd make a sculptor weep. He flushes under my scrutiny, trembling with nerves, and it pleases me to no end.

"You're fucking perfect," I praise from behind him, running my fingertips down his muscular back and over his hips. I desperately want to cup his ass, squeeze his round cheeks and bite down on them, but I don't want to scare him off. I placate myself with a light brush of my hand across the top of his ass while I make my way back around him. He flinches, but doesn't move away. When I'm back in front of him, I look him up and down once more before taking his cock in a firm grip, and stepping into him.

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