Page 73 of Forever We Fall

My hips rock forward, seeking friction.

“Put your hands in your shorts.” Hota’s chin jerks toward me.

“I…” I’m a chickenshit. I want to, but I’m scared and horny, and oh God. I plunge my hands into my shorts and move myunderwear out of the way. One hand cups my balls while the other hangs tentatively just in front of my cock.

“Grab your dick, Arlo. Stroke it.”

Fuck. He’s back and more potent than ever. His confidence is so abundant it has no choice but to rub off on me. That thought makes me groan.

Hota presses his hips forward, straining against his hand. A dot of moisture turns his gray boxer briefs black near the waistband. He moans, and the muscles strain across his chest and abdomen.

I grip my base and shuttle my hand up my length. My feet brace wider, and my hips join in, frenzied to feel something good.

“That big, beautiful dick is yours, Arlo. You can play with it whenever you want.” Hota clenches his cock through his boxers and strokes himself hard. On every downward move, the fat head peeks out. It’s almost purple with pumping blood flow and weeping.

“Oh, fuck.” My hips thrust up, and my hand jerks back, matching his furious pace. I eat up every inch of his stunning body with my greedy gaze.

“You can watch me anytime you want,” Hota pants.

“Fuck, yes.” My balls draw up tight. My brain buzzes. My eyes close against my will.

“Come, Arlo.” Hota groans. “Make a fucking mess.”

The sounds that come out of me are barely human. A tingle starts at the base of my spine and shoots outward in every direction, overriding everything else. Hot jets of cum spurt out my cock head and catch in my shorts.

“That’s fucking it.” I can tell he’s close by his strained voice.

I force my eyes open. “Come for me,” I beg.

“I am.” He strains, his entire body arching like a bow. His head tips toward the sky, and the front of his boxer briefs go black.

My legs quiver, and I feel a little like upright jelly. I sag against the doorframe, hands still in my pants. Embarrassment creeps in, cold and unwelcome as the gorge of euphoria dissipates.

Hota slips his hand from his cock and wipes it on the outside of his underwear. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

I quirk a brow at him and look at the rumpled mess I am.

He licks his lips, and I’m tempted to stroke myself again. Why can Miles do it, and I hate it, but when Hota does it, I’m ready to come?

“You own your pleasure. No one else. You used it. There’s no shame in that.” He points between us. “No shame in this.” He glances at the clock. “As much as I’d like to stay and talk this out, I have to get ready for the athletic banquet.” His mouth forms a cute quirk. “I didn’t know about it until this afternoon. Nate told me, and I asked him to tell you since he was headed to his counselor’s office, which is where you were at the time.”

End-of-the-year interviews and prep for next year’s classes.

“Oh.” I pull my hand from my pants, pull my shirt off, and then use it to clean myself up as much as possible right now. “I finished early and headed to the gym.”

Hota smiles.

“So that’s why all the parents are here? Athletic banquet?”

“Yeah.” His smile falls. “It’s dumb. I don’t want to go, but it’s required, apparently.”

“Your dad?—”

Hota shakes his head. His sweat-soaked hair clings to the sides of his face in little clumps. “He wouldn’t have come before. He won’t come now.” He rolls his shoulders like it doesn’t matter.

My heart squeezes. I know it matters.

“Don’t overthink it while I’m gone.” He looks from my crotch to his. “Okay?”

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