Page 56 of His Innocent Omega
Deciding to just go for it, I explained, “It means you pretend to watch a movie or show, when what you’re really doing is hooking up. And I like action movies, mostly. Though I’m open to anything.”
His cheeks turned the prettiest rose color and he squirmed on the couch. The smell of blackberries wafted over to me, barely there, but still noticeable. Did he like the idea of not actually watching the movie? He’d been clear last week that we needed to keep our clothes on, and I had every good intention of trying to do just that. I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t been thinking about all the things we could do that didn’t involve me penetrating him. The list was long and had kept me hard the past few nights.
“Let me toss some popcorn in the microwave,” I hurried to the kitchen, where I could wait for the popcorn to pop, and will my hard on to go away.
Setting the bowl of buttered goodness between us, I pushedthe buttons on the remote. “Okay, I think you’ll like this, but it will require you to do something.”
He nibbled on some popcorn, his brows scrunching, “What’s that?”
“I need you to suspend your belief of reality for the next two hours.”
“What are we watching?” he was genuinely curious.
Sitting on the opposite end of the couch, I grabbed a handful of popcorn with my free hand. “I’m not telling you yet. Just know that I love this movie, so if you don’t like it I’ll be devastated.” I tried to put on my most earnest expression.
He looked unfazed, “I doubt that. And don’t do that with your face. It’s weird.”
Laughing, I nearly choked on a kernel of corn. “I was going for boyish charm.”
He shook his head, but he was smiling. “Yeah, it was more big bad wolf ready to chomp on Little Red Riding Hood. I don’t know what it was to be fair, but just don’t do it again.”
I refrained from making any jokes about eating him, and instead said, “This movie is fun. It’s exciting. But people don’t watch it for realism or because the things they do in it are actually possible.”
He frowned, “Okay, and you like it because…?”
Pulling the movie up, I hit play, “Well, because it’s got pretty fast cars, big pretty guns, and a lot of pretty, pretty men.”
Wyatt stared at the screen. “The Fast and The Furious?”
Grinning hugely, I nodded, propping my feet on the coffee table. “Yep. It’s my go to comfort movie.”
After Wyatt’s third huffed,“That’s not possible. Cars can’t actually do that.”I had shushed him, put a throw pillow in my lap, and pulled him down to stretch out. He’d been stiff at first, before finally giving in, stretching his long body out on the sofa, his head in my lap. Thankfully, the pillow offered a buffer between my hard dick and him.
“This is why I don’t watch these movies with Matty,” I whispered, carding my fingers through his tangled curls. “Stop thinking so hard about it and watch the pretty boys.”
“Mmmm,” he murmured, nuzzling his head further into the pillow, “the one is very pretty.” I had no idea if he was talking about Paul Walker or Vin Diesel, but it didn’t matter. Wyatt was in my lap, and my fingers were massaging his scalp. Slowly, his muscles relaxed under my fingers.
When I stopped stroking his hair, he turned onto his back, staring up at me with shining eyes.
I couldn’t help myself. I bent forward and brushed my lips over his in an awkward, half crooked, soft kiss. Looking down at him when we broke apart, I waited for him to decide if he wanted another.
His answer was to lick his lips, like he was chasing the taste of me on them. Then his long arms came up, beckoning and pulling me down at the same time.
“More,” he whispered, and this time he took control of the kiss. It was hungry, demanding, breathtaking, full of need and want. He moaned, or I did, or maybe we both did. He moved, and I tugged him, until I had a lap full of Wyatt. His thin thighs straddling my hips, our hard cocks grinding against each other through our clothes.
My hands roamed his slimly muscled back, down to grab a handful of his luscious ass, then up again. He moved his body sensuously against me, arching his neck. Giving him what he was silently begging for, I latched onto the delicate skin, in that sweet spot just above his mating gland.
Sucking hard, using my teeth to scrape against the tender skin, his hiss turned into a panting gasp as I marked him.
“Yes,” his fingers dug into my shoulders, then my hair, as I sucked harder, turning the skin there a deep reddish purple, before I popped off. The sight of the bruise, my mark on him, amped up my desire tenfold. There was something so fucking sexy and primal about my mate wearing my mark. Showing the world he belonged to me.
I needed my hands on his skin. Needed to feel the heat and texture of his soft flesh. With a flick of my wrist, I had his jeans unsnapped and the zipper down. Palming his hot, hard length through the soft cotton of his briefs.
“Grayson,” he moaned, his hips bucking into my hand, “More. Touch me. Please.”
Reaching into his briefs, I freed his leaking cock, palming the length of him. He was all burning heat, velvety skin, and weeping moisture. Stroking him, I thumbed at his slit, thenlicked the precum from my digit.
“So good,” I moaned, before returning to his cock. Squeezing him, stroking him, as he moved his body against me, humping up and down. Anything to get the friction he needed. To keep my hand away from his hole, which was still a no-fly zone for a couple of weeks, I grabbed him around the waist, pulling him closer to me.
