Page 56 of Beautifully Complicated

“I know.” I shift again.

My cock plumps on the regular around Kier—how could it not—but it usually doesn’t amount to more than a semi since we’re so cautious to avoid saying or doing anything that might be considered temptation. Aside from a few heated looks, and the occasional brush of our fingers, we’ve been exceptionally good for months. Borderline saints. And I’m over it.

Sorry Conor.

“Take your dick out.” I tell Kier.

“What?” He caps the whiskey and sets it aside, no doubt blaming it for my loose lips. He might have a small point, but it’s more carnal need than lowered inhibitions that have me requesting he release his cock.

“You heard me. I won’t touch it. I just want to see it.” I lick my lip, more in anticipation than to deliberately bait him, yet knowing full well what that gesture will do to him.

“That’s… I really shouldn’t.” Kier’s hand twitches over his lap, but he’s otherwise as still as a statue.

“Isn’t it uncomfortable trapped inside your pants? Mine is.” My hips seem to strain upward though I’m doing my damndest to stay still.

Eyes glued to my crotch, he whispers, “Show me.”

Figuring I have about two seconds before he changes his mind, I race to undo my pants, shoving them to the top of my thighs so my dick is free of all restrictions.

Kier sighs as his eyes flutter shut. “So beautiful.”

I look at my dick, standing proud between my legs. It’s as hard as it’s ever been, slightly pink at the tip, lurching sporadically in search of friction.

“Now you.” My voice is so hoarse I barely recognize it, but Kier hears the lust, and rushes to do as I instruct.

Pants shoved down, his dick sprouts upward from a tuft of dark hair, standing as tall as mine. My fingers ache to hold it, to close it in my fist and stroke, savoring the smooth skin wrapped around his taut shaft. But I promised I wouldn’t, so I grab mine instead, crying out in relief the instant my nerves get the friction they want.

“Leanbh,” Kier groans beside me, fisting his own cock in a grip that covers all but his swollen crown.

“Oh, God.” I sigh as I flex my hand around my length. “I remember how it felt when you held me. Gentle at first, pumping long and slow.” My hand moves in time with my words, crawling leisurely up and down my cock. “Almost like you were committing me to memory.”

“I was,” Kier grits beside me.

“Your hand felt so good. Soft but tight. Squeezing me to see what sort of pressure I like.”

Once again, the motion of my hand mimics my words. Mirroring me, Kier works his own length, groaning with unrestrained need.

The sound takes me back to that first night, when all inhibitions were ignored and we were free to indulge in each other fully. What I wouldn’t give to have that again right now. To feel his need. Taste his arousal.

Watching isn’t the same, but given the circumstances, it’ll have to do. And I suppose it’s not completely futile. There’s an intimacy to it that’s surprisingly potent. Touching yourself under the watchful eye of another requires almost as much trust as giving them free reign over your body, with a slight element of the taboo. It’s shockingly arousing.

“Fuck this is hot. You like it?” I ask.

He grunts affirmatively.

“Show me.”

Kier swipes the finger of his free hand over his slit and holds the glistening digit up for my inspection. Instinct takes over and I open my mouth so he can wipe the drop over my tongue, shuddering when I close my lips around his finger and gently suck.

His taste is faint, but I recognize it instantly. So does my body, my cock jolting inside my fist.

“Leanbh,” he whispers my name with desperation and takes his finger away.

“God, I wish I could taste all of you right now.” I tug my aching shaft.

“We can’t. Even this…” he pants as he strokes himself. “Even this is going too far.”

“I still haven’t touched you,” I justify as my hips try to chase my fist, mimicking how I’d like to move inside him.

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