Page 26 of High Notes & Hail Marys

Sterling looks amused. The color is high on his face, and he’s breathing ever-so-slightly harder, but he’s in control, which is clearly where he wants to be.

“My gentleman,” he says softly. “You’re so sweet. Yeah. Get undressed.”

Your hands are unsteady, and you send up a littlethank youto the Almighty that your basketball shorts have an elastic waist. You’re not sure that you could have coped with a button and zipper. You shove your shorts and underwear down in one motion, and you kick them to the floor somewhere. Sterling has stood, and is gracefully doffing his funny red shorts. Beneath, he’s wearing a pair of black Calvin Klein briefs. They ride low on his hipbones. In your lust-addled haze, you think about removing them with your teeth. He looks a feast, all his pale skin and compact muscles, his hair falling over his eyes.

“Like what you see?” he teases lightly.

“Fuck, Ster.” Your cock is rigid against your belly,your balls aching. The sight of him has you fisting yourself in agitation, just to get some relief. “You look…fuck, you look so good. Is this okay?”

He stands on the side of the bed. His own hard-on is visibly tenting his briefs, but he’s not thinking about it, clearly. He’s watching you with something akin to wonder, your hand stroking your dick. It’s dry, and it kind of hurts, but you’ll put up with it.

“I have lube around here somewhere,” he says, doing that thing again. The one where he reads your mind. “Just gimme…”

“Uh-uh.” You hold out your free hand, the one that’s not jerking yourself off. “C’mere. Spit.”

Sterling looks at your palm for half a second before bending his head and dribbling saliva onto it, somewhat tentatively.

“Like you mean it,” you say roughly. “Make it wet.”

He clears his throat and really spits this time, making a plosive noise that goes straight to your balls. You cup his saliva in your hand, resisting the disgusting, horny urge to dip your tongue into it. Instead, you hock into your palm as well, your own drool making a slick, wet mess. You slap it all over your dick, your combined spit mixing with the copious pre-cum you’ve exuded. It’s deliciously slippery, and it makes your hand glide easily over your prick with a sloppy sound.

Sterling’s mouth has fallen open a little more. He’s clearly in some kind of horned-up stupor. You imagine sliding your cock between his lips, and you moan a bit, your fist going faster and clenching yourself tighter.

As you stroke yourself, he comes back to himself a bit, and rummages through the top drawer of the bedside table. He produces some Gun Oil, and holds it out.

“Don’t need it,” you grit out. “You gonna join me?”

“I’m enjoying the show for right now,” he says. He’s absently rubbing his stomach, which is smooth and hairless save a thin trail of fuzz disappearing into his briefs. Oh god, he must have gotten waxed recently. Your mouth waters at the thought of touching his dick, still sight-unseen. You think that it’s a good thing that he’s out of arm’s reach. You’d eat him alive.

“Let me see it.” There’s a begging note to your own voice, which is… interesting. The dynamic here is not what you would have expected. The vibes are a little weird. But you’re digging it. “Please.”

He cocks his head, the tangled length of his long hair falling over one eye. He doesn’t stop watching you, though. In fact, his eyes are locked on yours as he complies, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs and skimming them off gracefully.

Sterling Grayson’s got a nice dick. Maybe six inches, good and fat. Not cut, unlike yours, with a pretty pink blush to it that matches the one on his cheeks. It’s hard, and it springs up against his taut lower belly when he kicks the Calvins under the bed.

You barely resist making grabby-hands in its direction, gesturing for him to come over to your side of the bed. His hips are at the perfect height. “Come here.”

“You first.” Sterling shakes his head slightly. His restless hand on his stomach dips lower, like he’s going to touch himself. But he doesn’t. The man must be part monk or something.

For your part, you are getting embarrassingly close, embarrassingly fast. The heat in your gut is a spreading pool, spilling over into your lower back. There are little, choked noises that you don’t recognize at first as coming from your own mouth.

“Are you going to come for me, Kai?” Sterling asks.

You nod furiously, gone to a place beyond words. It’s true. The heat spreads through you. Your hand moves impossibly fast; you no longer care about trying to stop it. As Sterling watches, you groan deeply and splatter your stomach with hot streaks of cum, stroking yourself through it. Some of it spills over your fist. You arch your neck, sinking your head even deeper into the soft pillows.

He doesn’t even give you a chance to come down. He lies down beside you, and uses his left hand to collect as much of the cooling spunk on your skin as possible. With this, he starts to stroke himself off.

You return to Earth slowly, feeling slightly like you got hit by a truck. Your orgasm was that good, and the wine is still making things fuzzy. For a few prolonged, dumb minutes, you just breathe in and out, absorbing the sight ofyour boyfriendjerking his dick. As soon as your head clears just enough for a semblance of coherence, you roll to your side.

Sterling’s eyelids are at half-mast. You bring your hand to his mouth, the one covered with spit and cum. He doesn’t need to be instructed; he puts out his pink tongue and laps you clean. You push two fingers into his mouth, not hard. He sucks them assiduously, making breathy little noises around the knuckles. The sound goes to your cock, which is too tired for Round Two just yet, but appreciates the situation nonetheless.

You wrap an arm around him and crowd his face, kissing him deeply. His tongue tastes like you, and you hum into his mouth. Sterling makes needy noises against your lips until you relent and let him breathe. You grab the lube, which is forgotten by his side, and slick up your own palm. Covering Sterling’s hand in your much-bigger one, you help him stroke himself in the spaces between hisfingers.

Eventually, Sterling lets you take over, throwing his arm over his face and pulsating his hips with every jerk of your fist. His lithe body is a revelation, something that you aren’t entirely sure you deserve. With your mouth next to his ear, you spill filth into it: telling him how fucking hot he looks, how good his cock looks in your hand, how good you want him to feel.

It doesn’t take long. Your whispers and the clasp of your fingers bring him up to the edge and then over it; Sterling comes and comes.

Outside, the Newport wind is a susurrus, and the fire burns hotter and brighter.

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