Page 53 of Save the Game

He groans, practically sucking my tongue down his throat, and reaches down between us to wrap his hand loosely around our cocks. I groan, deep in my chest, at the way he feels against me. He’s not going to be the only one finishing early, once we get the main event under way. He keeps his grip lax, barely moving his hand as I press him back into the mattress and fuck his mouth with my tongue.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, “you are the gold medalist of kissing, you know that?”

I grin, kissing his neck and feeling extremely pleased with myself. He smooths a hand down the back of my head and spine, exactly the way he’d done it last night.

“You ready?” He asks, face turned into my hair and voice low.

“Yeah.” I lift my head, trying to avoid looking at him by going in search of the condom. I’m not a very good liar—he’ll see the trepidation in my eyes if he stares at them for too long.

“Here,” he says, pulling the condom from out of nowhere. “Let me.”

I nod, watching his hands as he touches me, smoothing his palms up my stomach and ribs once the condom is on and covered in a layer of lube. He lays back down, hands now cupped around my face. He doesn’t say anything, just brushes tender strokes across my cheeks with his thumbs and waits for me to make a decision. Instead of trying to talk, I simply reach down and indicate with a hand on his leg that I want him to pull his knees back. Silently, he lifts his feet and waits for me to position myself before he tucks them more firmly around my back.

“It’s all right,” he says, so quietly the words are barely given life before they are gone. My throat feels tight, and it’s a little hard to swallow. “It’s just us.”

I hope he’s not watching my hand as I reach down between us to line myself up and press the head of my dick past that first, tight, ring of muscle. My fingers are trembling so bad, the tremor is extremely visible.

“Don’t stop,” he breathes, and I’m grateful for the instruction. Crack on, Max, you’re doing fine.

He’s so relaxed, I bottom out inside him easily, eyes on where our bodies are joined. His hands are still on my face; gently, he pulls my chin up until I can see his eyes. It’s still a little hard to breathe, but I don’t feel like puking and the room has stayed stationary.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, needing him and also myself, to believe it. “I’m fine.”

“Go slow,” he says, brushing a light stroke over my cheeks again, “I want to feel you.”

That’s a relief—god knows I don’t have it in me to fuck him in earnest. Leaning down, I give the smallest roll of my hips as I kiss him, punctuating each movement of my pelvis with that of my lips. I’m barely moving, but his legs tighten where they are clamped around me and he groans. Gaining in confidence now that I’ve made it this far without losing my shit, I put a little more behind my next thrust and am rewarded with another of Luke’s moans. He hasn’t stopped making noise this entire time, and I realize it’s helping me to remain in the moment and not get lost in the past.

I’m already too close to the edge. My abstinence from the last year coupled with my unbridled desire for the man below me has release building at a rapid pace, completely at odds with the almost lazy roll of my hips. Luke carefully raises his pelvis, allowing me to sink further inside him, and the groan that rips out of me is startling in the near silence of the room.

“Max,” he groans, continuing to roll his hips in concert with mine.

“Keep talking,” I request, not even knowing it’s something I need until the words come out of my mouth. “Please.”

He firms his grip on my face, kissing his way over my jaw until our faces are alongside one another and his lips are by my ear.

“Max,” he breathes, “baby, you feel so good, the way you fill me. I need you deeper—yes, fuck, yes.”

His voice devolves into a whimper as I begin hitting his prostate just right, but he picks up where he left off, whispering in my ear. Some of it is filthy, some sweet, and some is nothing but my name, breathed against me like a prayer. It’s precisely what I needed—a near constant reminder that I’m with Luke, and that’s exactly where I want to be.

Regardless of the glacial pace I’ve set, I can’t stave off my release any longer. I try to gasp out a warning to Luke, but the words don’t quite come out the way I’d intended; he understands, anyway, and reaches one of his hands between us to jack himself. We come at the same time, gasping. I work him through it, trying to maintain the steady rolling of my hips even though I’m wrung out and want nothing more than to collapse on top of him.

He stills me with a hand on my hip, bringing us both to a halt. My arms are shaking from holding myself above him. Before I simply fall there, he pulls me down, one arm wrapped around my mid back and the other on the back of my head. He brushes my sweaty hair off of my forehead, kissing my face and scalp, and I settle against his chest while trying to suck air painfully through mine.

“Max,” he says, between each kiss. He hasn’t stopped moving: his hand brushes through my hair and a kiss follows, over and over again. “Maxy.”

I’ve slipped out of him and am at least partially aware that I should probably get up to dispose of the condom. But the way he’s holding me to his chest leaves little doubt about where he wants me to remain. I’m not sure my legs could hold me anyway, if I tried to get up. I need a minute—or ten—to come down from the high and wrangle my emotions back under control.

Luke’s chest is warm against my face, slightly sheened with sweat and smelling so strongly of that signature Luke scent, it makes me want to cry. He’s still petting my head and murmuring; with a pang, I realize he’s worried. I lift my head and am met with wide, brown eyes. He grabs my chin to keep me where he can see me.

“Hello, you,” he says, as if I needed any more reason to be emotional right now. I clear my throat and he catches my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, stroking gently. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” I nod, jostling his hand and clearing my throat again. My voice sounds like it’s been sandpapered. “Was that okay?”

He smiles, brushing across my lips again before he releases my chin, letting me put my head back down against his chest. “If ‘okay’ is the terribly inadequate word we are going to use, then yes, it was okay.”

I smile against him, inhaling his sunshine and enjoying the feel of a tremendous weight being lifted from my shoulders. Intimacy has been a constant mental battle for me this past year: first, the lack of interest I had in anything sexual, and then the presence of Luke making me feel too much too quickly. I feel as though I’ve conquered a personal battle and won.

“I didn’t puke,” I murmur, trying to tamp down my emotions by injecting a little humor.

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