Page 95 of Wrath

“Why not?” I breathe, giving his lower lip a suck.

“I’m not driving thru with cum in my pants.”

That makes me laugh. “Fair enough.” He pulls away, and I rub my sore mouth.

We get the pizza—Hawaiian, which apparently we both like—and eat it in the car as I drive us back. Miller ends up sort of feeding me as we talk about music. I like more classic rock, and he likes that and pop, too. By the time I pull into the driveway, I feel so good. Warm and fed, with my dick hard, wanting to get in and fuck around with him on the couch.

I carry the pizza box and he opens the door. I set it in the fridge as he scrolls the TV for something we can watch. When I get to the couch, he’s got the showTrue Detectivelocked and loaded. He’s sitting with his back against one of the couch’s arms and his legs stretched out in front of him. Instead of moving for me, he waves at his lap.

Twelve

Josh

Ezra eases himself down on my left leg, smirking as he rubs his dick against me. Just when I’m reaching down to touch it, he leans forward and wraps his arms around my neck.

“Miller,” he rasps just under my ear. “What are you doing to me?”

Our cheeks brush as his lips find mine, his tongue gliding firm but gentle into my mouth as his arm settles around my shoulders. He holds me so close our pecs press together, both our chests pumping as we breathe heavy. His free hand finds my cock through my jeans, cupping it and teasing, trying to stroke through the fabric. He’s rubbing his stiff dick against my leg, but sometimes we get so lost in kissing that he stops moving his hips, putting all his focus on our joined mouths and his hand on my cock.

This is what it’s like to kiss aboy. My head reels.

I love his dick so much it makes me dizzy, but the kissing—fuck. The way he can’t stop, even when we both can’t breathe; he goes for little kisses at those moments: soft and quick, no tongue, and once, when we’re both really panting, he presses his cheek to mine, his hand trailing up into my hair.

“You’re so perfect.” Muffled words. His mouth against my neck. I stroke my fingers through his hair, too, tickling down his nape.

“You are.” He feels good atop me. Warm and heavy.

“Is this okay?” Ezra whispers.

I lean back to look up into his eyes. I find them glazed and stretched wide, his cheeks pink, lips parted. So I kiss them. We kiss like we’re going for the damn Olympics. When we pull apart to pant, I whisper near his ear, “You’re a great kisser.”

Then we’re at it again—so gentle it makes me shiver. Little kisses…deeper kisses… His hand’s wrapped around my nape. His other one is rubbing my cock. I’m rubbing him, too. I urge his pants down, giving me more access. Every time my fingers trace the rim of his cockhead through his boxers, his hips jerk a little, and he moans into my mouth. We find a rhythm, going at it until I’m so close I can’t stop groaning. Both our bodies are lust-taut and shaking.

I reach around behind Ez, urging him to straddle me higher so we can hump each other. He complies, which gives me a rush. But instead of pushing our cocks together and going for the cum explosion, he just peers down at me.

“Whatcha doing?” I smile.

He blinks, looking dazed, holding his cock with his big hand.

“Taking a breather?”

“You’re fucking me up,” he whispers.

“We’re making eachother feel good.”

He nods slowly, holding my gaze.

“You good, dude?”

He nods again, still looking wide-eyed.

I reach out and rub his chest through his shirt, feeling for his nipple. When I squeeze, he sucks a breath in. I sit up so I can kiss him better.

“Gay is the way, amirite?” We both laugh.

Goddamn, this is everything I’ve wanted and more. He’s so fucked up, his kisses are now open-mouthed and sloppy. I can feel a sheen of sweat through his shirt, feel his muscles trembling. Pretty sure I am, too.

The next time we pull apart, I get off the couch and kneel down on my knees beside it.

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