Page 2 of Choke Up

There's shuffling, and then a firm grip on my elbow makes me shriek. I assumed whoever turned out the light had left, thinking it was another funny prank. But I'm not alone in here. Instinctively, I pull my arm away and turn away from them.

"Wha—" I barely get a sound out of my mouth before the person clamps a hand over my mouth from behind.

I gasp and struggle, but their hold on me tightens. He’s large, much taller and broader than my five-foot-eight slim build. My back is pinned against a muscular chest, warmth seeping through the layers of cotton between us. Whoever he is, his heart is beating just as frantically as my own. For whatever reason, that takes some of my panic away, and I relax, sucking in a much-needed breath of air through my nose.

His mouth lowers to the shell of my ear, the soft susurrus of a shush sending gooseflesh skittering across my skin. The tight press of his hand over my mouth falls away, and his hand slides over my chin to my pulse point. He presses against it, no doubt feeling the intense rhythm of my heartbeat. His touch is tender as his big hand cups my face, turning my face to the side as his other hand guides my waist, turning me around to face him.

No matter how much I blink to adjust my eyes, it's too dark to make out anything. My hands instinctively come up to rest on his broad chest, and he holds one of my hands against him, his other hand sliding under the back of my t-shirt. His fingers lightly run over the bruise forming at the small of my back, and my breath hitches. This might still be a cruel prank, but I don't think he's here to hurt me. Hell, I know this must be a prank, because the way he's holding me close, like we're slow dancing in this dark, quiet space, feels… good.

Too good to be real.

This has to be a trick. My head tilts, straining my ears to listen for any sign of a crowd growing outside, looking for signs of an ambush. If he were recording, I'd see a red light or something, right?

I try to step away, to save myself from the embarrassment of falling for such a ridiculous trick. What am I doing, melting into some stranger in the dark? Am I really that starved for affection that I'd fall for this?

There is barely enough room for me to take two small steps before my back meets the counter again. The stranger follows, pressing closer to me, plastering his body to mine. The heat of contact along the front of my body has me chubbing up embarrassingly, but there's nowhere to move. Stupidly, I don't push him away or tell him no. I'm afraid if I do, he'll stop.

I'm balancing a fine line of resisting enough to not completely embarrass myself when the rug gets pulled out from under me, but also giving in to the tiny amount of ridiculous hope that this is real.

My breath catches when both of his hands touch my hips, pressing me against him in such a way that lets me know he feels my arousal. Both hands trail up the sides of my waist, all the way up my chest. His touch is soft and exploring. Tentatively, I place my hands on his hard stomach, intending to find the resolve to push him away. He must feel me tense, because he lifts my chin, holding his big hand over my throat again, and the heat of his breath is suddenly floating over my lips. I breathe in, sucking the taste of cinnamon liquor and chlorine into my lungs.

Something like panic, mixed with agonizing, desperate need, freezes me to the spot. I'm still aware this is likely all part of the joke, but I can't do more than wet my lips. Every contact point on our bodies, from his thighs pressed against mine, to his tender grip around my throat, burns. A moment of tension hangs between us and pulses. He mumbles something, soft and low, but the thudding of my heart muffles my ears. My name?

He closes the sliver of distance between us, pressing his lips against mine. Despite being trapped there, barely a breath between us, I gasp in surprise. The opening of my lips encourages him, and he goes in for the kill.

I've never been kissed. Not really. When I was ten, we played a much more innocent version of spin the bottle, and we giggled as I pecked a neighbor girl on the lips. Come to think of it, that might have been the very day I knew I felt something for Gabe. I can still feel the heat of my blush when I noticed him watching me. It was like my entire body lit up at his attention. He was all I thought about from then on. I knew I was gay by the time I reached middle school, but didn't tell anyone until I was fifteen. Considering I was picked on a lot at school for something I'd never admitted to, I was annoyed when my family and closest friends acted like they already knew all about it. I casually flirted with an out boy in our high school during sophomore year, but when he tried to kiss me, I shied away. I completely froze, couldn't move or react at all, so it was mostly just him pressing his lips against the cheek that I turned toward him. And while I might have frozen when this kiss started, my hesitation doesn’t last long.

This kiss is all-consuming. Heat flushes through my veins. When his tongue lightly brushes mine, electricity shoots down my spine, all the way to my toes, which flex and lift me higher. I press into him and let out a little whimper when his tongue licks into my mouth deeper. He groans and holds me close, exploring my mouth with his. He licks and nips at my lips, tangles his tongue with mine, and steals my breath with every experimental movement of his mouth on mine. My hands fist into the front of his shirt, holding him hostage against me as I submit to this stranger willingly, desperately.

I don't even know how long we've been here, lost in this insanity. My lips are swollen and nearly numb from use, but our kiss grows from tentative to heated. My hands disappear under the hem of his shirt, fingers digging into the sweat-dampened skin of his muscular back. When he drops his mouth and grazes his teeth lightly along the column of my neck, I lose all semblance of self-control. My hips buck against his, my throbbing cock brushing against his muscular thigh. A needy moan escapes me; I'm too far gone to be embarrassed or hold myself back. My stranger dips slightly, grasping the back of my thigh to reposition my body against his. With one leg hiked up around his hip, he settles his meaty thigh between my legs. Taking my mouth again, he kisses me ravenously while he uses his grip on my thigh to grind me against him. My hands rake into his short hair, and I moan into his mouth.

The small space grows humid with our combined body heat and heavy breaths. The sharp tang of the forgotten paints mixes with the smell of chlorine and sweat. Pleasure builds at the base of my spine, and my head feels fuzzy. Tearing my mouth from his, I pant heavily, trying to get the wherewithal to tell him I want—no, need—more. I'm so close. I don’t want to embarrass myself, but I don’t want to stop. I don’t ever want to stop.

His forehead presses against mine, and he whispers, "I want to make you come."

I can't manage more than a moan as he guides me to keep riding his thigh, harder and faster. The friction drives me out of my mind, and not one consideration is given to the noise we're making, or the fact that I'm dry humping a faceless stranger in a random utility closet.

My body locks up as pleasure spikes, and a sound like the wind being knocked out of me is forced from my chest as I tip over the edge. The climax is intense and feels like it goes on forever, and yet not long enough because I'm not ready for this to be over. As the crotch of my pants grows warm with my release soaking through, he takes my mouth again, swallowing my gasps and moans as I ride out my orgasm. He shudders as my nails dig into his flesh, rolling his hips against me until I'm all but limp putty in his arms.

Eventually the kisses slow, and he lets me down. The lustful tension bleeds into an awkward silence as the post-orgasm clarity hits me like a ton of bricks. Right here and now, I'd give him every part of me if I knew I'd meet him again outside of these stolen moments. Just as much as me coming in my pants was inevitable, so is this ending with me never seeing his face or knowing his name.

Not ready for it to be over, I reach for the hard ridge of his cock still straining against his shorts, but he grabs my hand. He leans into me again, placing a small kiss on the middle of my palm, before he pulls back and pushes something into my hand. A towel?

Chuckling awkwardly, my embarrassment catches up to me, and I turn around. Before I can do more than undo my pants to clean myself up, he wraps an arm around my waist from behind and kisses the side of my neck. His heat leaves my back, and before I know it, he's gone. I spin around, desperate to see even a profile of his features, but I'm not fast enough, and it's too dark. The door clicks shut, and it doesn't lock.

I barely wipe myself clean, tucking myself back into my pants as I run to follow him. I throw open the door, but it's dark in the basement, too. I hear the door at the top of the stairs close, and I race up the stairs as I zip and button my pants.

The party is in full swing up here, and most people are too drunk or wrapped up in their activities to notice me. I push through the people loitering in the kitchen, skirt around couples making out in the hallway, and squeeze through the mob of people using the living room as a dance floor. Outside, there's more dancing and rowdy games of chicken being played in the pool. On the deck, the hot tub is at full capacity. I see my brother there, his girlfriend straddling his lap while they laugh and kiss. A perfect bikini-clad body stands up and reaches for a beer from Gabe, who passes one to my brother as well as he climbs back into the water. He sits back and takes a deep swig, his eyes finding mine momentarily over the end of the bottle. He looks back at Shayla, and she crawls into his lap. My gaze is fixed on the way his throat moves as he chugs the bottle, then takes the one Shayla is complaining about and chugs it too. I turn away before he finishes drinking, not interested in seeing him make out with the pouty bitch trying to get his attention.

All I’m interested in is finding my stranger. But I have no clue what he looks like, and when I look around, not even one person is standing on their own, looking like they might be even slightly flustered. I feel like I just ran a marathon, and the adrenaline that was keeping me upright is suddenly leached from my body.

Knowing Elliot and Gabe will need a designated driver later, and still without my phone, I climb into the back seat of the Jeep. I roll up one of my brother’s discarded hoodies to use as a pillow, but quickly realize that it’s Gabe’s. It’s a hoodie he bought when we got him tickets to see his favorite band, The Foo Fighters, for his birthday last year. It has his distinctive scent of clean, salty sweat and whatever cologne or body wash he uses that smells like soap and lemongrass.

Instead of shoving my face into his sweater and huffing it like the air I need to survive, I pull my shirt up over my nose. In slow, deep breaths, I take in my scent, mixed with chlorine and the slight musk of cum. Blinking back tears and simultaneously ignoring my growing arousal at the memories of tonight, I allow myself to analyze every moment of what is sure to be my awakening.

I’ve never felt more alive.

CHAPTER 1

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