Page 52 of Save the Game

Neither of us can control our amusement after that, and it’s several minutes later before we catch our breath. Luke hiccups, eyes closed as he tries to regulate his breathing and not devolve into laughter again. Letting him have a second, I climb off the bed to strip. Shirt off and tossed to the floor, I can feel his eyes on me now, watching as I pull off his sweatpants and taking my boxers off with them. He’s still lying back when I climb back onto the bed, reaching out a hand for me. I tuck my fingers into the waistband of his boxers, and he answers my question before I have a chance to verbalize it.

“Yes.”

I go slower removing his underwear than I did with my own, watching my hands and enjoying the catch of his hair against my palms. After slipping them off and tossing them over the side of the bed, I move back up to his head. I want to kiss him; I want to kiss away the nerves that are already dancing along my spine and nesting in my stomach. It’s disappointing, that this one thing that I want to do so badly is so hard—there is no reason for me to be afraid of Luke, and yet my body continues to react like I’m someone being hunted for sport.

I sigh when I kiss him, equal parts lust and exasperation with myself. He puts a hand flat against my chest, and I don’t kid myself and hope that he can’t feel the thundering of my heart. He hasn’t moved anything other than his arms, his hips flat on the bed now that we’re both naked, and I know he’s waiting for me to make the first move.

“I’m nervous,” I tell him, with the air of someone ripping off a particularly large Band-Aid. Might as well get it all out in the open. “You’re the first person I’ve been with—or even wanted to be with—since everything happened last year. It honestly felt like that part of me was dead; I wasn’t interested in anybody until you. And I want to do this, and I want to be with you in every possible way, but I’m nervous.”

“Okay,” he says simply. “I think we can handle nerves, but you have to tell me if I do something that makes you uncomfortable, Max. It would break my fucking heart if I was the one you chose to be with and all I did was scare you.”

“I’ll tell you,” I promise softly, slipping a shaking hand between us and over the planes of his stomach. Deciding that I just want to touch him for a bit, I situate the majority of my bodyweight to the side and keep my eyes on my hand.

Dancing my fingers over his ribs, I marvel at the way his skin looks even browner next to my own pale complexion. As I move downward, fingers tracing over that smooth pocket of skin above his hip, his own hand rises off the bed and I feel the ghost of a touch along the top of my shoulder.

“I love these,” Luke says, distracting me from learning what the inside of his thigh feels like. I look down at his hand, knuckles tracking back and forth from the base of my neck over my shoulder.

“What?”

“Freckles.”

“Oh.” Somehow, even though we’re naked and I’m millimeters away from touching his dick, this is what makes me blush. “I’ve got more.”

He smiles. “I noticed.”

Since I’m there, I trace gentle fingertips over the seam of his groin and across his taint before traveling up the underside of his dick. I might be biased, since I am very much in the pro-penis category, but Luke’s is easily the prettiest I’ve ever seen. Still using my fingertips to learn the shape and feel of him, I smile at the bead of moisture glistening at his tip.

“You have a very beautiful dick, I hope somebody has told you that,” I let him know seriously, and watch him bite his lip.

“Of all the adjectives…,” he murmurs.

“Also, you’re hung like a horse,” I follow-up, and he laughs.

“I do love compliments.”

Grinning, I move up the bed until I can kiss him. I still feel nervous but it’s lessened, as though joking together has taken the pressure off. You see? It doesn’t have to be so serious, Max, just have fun. Taking a deep breath, stolen straight from Luke’s lungs where our mouths are pressed together, I reach out a hand for his nightstand.

“Do you have, uhm, stuff?” I ask, losing my head completely and forgetting what sort of stuff we need.

“Mm,” he hums from where he’s sucking on my collarbone. No wonder I can’t fucking think. Leaning over to peek inside the drawer, I pull out lube and a string of condoms. I tear one off and put the rest back—probably best to not get carried away on my first time in a while. Baby steps.

My insides are wound tight with nerves as I almost fumble the bottle of lube when I try to open it one handed. Luke is still languidly kissing every part of my body he can reach, which currently means my wrist. When I finally succeed in opening the lube and coating a finger, he’s already stretched his legs wide and is waiting for me. I’m grateful for his nonchalance and competency—at this point, I feel so apprehensive that I might as well be a virgin.

He sighs when I press my finger against him; a breathy, satisfied sound that coils in my pelvis like smoke. I’ve never actually taken my time and enjoyed this part before: the prep and the foreplay. All my previous sexual encounters were focused on getting to the actual fucking, but watching every small reaction from Luke’s body as I slide my finger all the way inside him, I realize that I’ve been missing out. I see the way his abdomen hitches when I brush his prostate, and the way his toes have curled under. He’s biting his lip and with every glide of my finger in and out, his breathing stutters. All barely perceptible reactions, unless somebody was watching for them.

I take my time. Partly because I’m anxious as shit, and for all my talk of sticking my dick into him earlier, I’m still a little worked up about it. But also because it’s obvious Luke likes to be touched, and obvious that he’s enjoying this—I want him to feel good. Actually, the only thing I want, in this moment, is for Luke to feel good.

When I get to three fingers, I’m feeling pretty proud of myself. Luke, who’s stayed mostly silent throughout this endeavor and let me go at my own pace, is absolutely wrecked. His hands are twisted in the bedsheet, back arching every time I push against his prostate, and dick steadily leaking precum onto his abdomen. His eyes are closed tight, and the gasping has turned to whimpers. Pushing my hand against him and then spreading my fingers as I pull out, I slowly stretch him, pausing before I exit him completely. I rub my free hand up and down his calf.

“Do you think you’re ready?” I ask, working very hard to keep a tremor from my voice. He cracks an eye open, sweat shining along his scalp.

“Maxy, I can’t feel a single one of my limbs right now. I’m ready, believe me, I am so fucking ready.”

“Sorry,” I laugh, pulling my hand very carefully from between his legs. “I was enjoying watching you.”

“My boyfriend is a torturer,” he moans dramatically, but smiles at me as he props himself up on his elbows. “Get up here and kiss me, we’re going to have to give my prostate a tiny break or else this is going to be over the second you get inside me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind seeing th—." He cuts me off, pulling my mouth against his in a way that has me laughing, our lips and teeth mashed together. Palming the back of his head, damp with sweat, I spread his mouth wide with mine and devour him. I love the way he tastes.

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