Page 47 of Hot Doggin'
“Come to bed, Mac,” Stiles calls. “You’re just drawing this out and making me more nervous.”
So I’m not the only one. Good.
Switching off the light, I come out of my hidey-hole and sit on the edge of the bed. Should I take my leg off or leave it on? I feel a little more confident leaving it on, more… whole.
Stiles climbs out of bed and kneels at my feet. Is he gonna do it right here? Like this?
He reaches for my prosthetic and slides it off, propping it next to the nightstand. “Wait, I was gonna?—”
“No, you’re not. You don’t need it.” He rolls the sleeve down my thigh and reaches for the lotion on the nightstand,massaging a dollop into my skin like he’s seen me do a hundred times.
My stomach flips. Stiles’s fingers, warm and calloused, glide over my skin, and it feels more intimate than the blow job he promised me. Maybe because he’s touching the most vulnerable part of me. It's never been an issue between us, not once in four years, but tonight is different. Tonight, he’s seeing me through new eyes. Not as a best friend, but as a lover. And I want to feel perfect for him.Beperfect for him.
That’s what Stiles deserves in a partner, someone that rocks his world, someone who robs him of breath and makes his knees weak. Someone other than me.
Even in the dim lighting, I can see his heart in his eyes when he looks up at me, full of emotions neither of us knows how to put into words. His throat slides, and I realize he’s as nervous as I am.
Is he worried he won’t do a good job?
Is he worried he won’t like it? Or that I won’t?
His head dips, and he presses a kiss to the tip of my thigh, to the bundle of scars left over from my surgery where they closed up my leg. His lips are soft and reverent like he’s honoring the part of me that was lost to war. My sacrifice to my country, my team. I want to pull him up off his knees, but I’m frozen, my throat convulsing because I can’t stop swallowing past the lump of nerves gathered there.
This was supposed to be hotter than hot. Two friends getting off with each other. At least, that’s what Stiles agreed to, it’s what he said he wanted. This doesn’t feel like a hot quick blowie. This feels like… more, with feelings and shit.
Stiles knows I always get nervous when hooking up with a new girl for the first time, wondering what she’ll say when she sees my leg. Maybe he’s just putting me at ease to show me it’s not an issue with us. So that I can relax and enjoy the rest. Ithread my fingers through his thick dark hair and turn his head toward me.
“I got something else you can put your mouth on.”
He grins wickedly. ”I’m getting there.”
Oh yeah, he’s definitely nervous, and the trail of kisses he places up my thigh is his way of working up to it. I spread my legs wider so he can fit his head between them. Stiles puts his hands on my shoulders and pushes me back. I straighten and shuffle my body to give him room to join me up on the bed, and he crawls slowly between my legs.
He’s in no rush to remove the safety barrier between my skin and his mouth. His warm moist breath puffs over my balls, making my dick kick. It must embolden him because he chuckles and licks a stripe up my shaft over the cotton, now hard behind my boxers. Raising up on my elbows, I look down at my best friend's dark head nestled between my legs, and my mind is blown. Never thought I would see him there, but the sight of it has my heart hammering away at my chest. He’s barely gotten started, and I’m already ready to finish.
“Get there faster before I blow.”
He chuckles again, deep and throaty, and flashes his grin at me. “Your stamina is impressive.”
I laugh, and just like that, much of the tension is dissolved. It’s just me and my best bud, cracking jokes and making fun of a situation to lighten the mood.
“Should I get myself off first? So I last longer?”
“Hell, no. Nobody’s touching this but me tonight.” To emphasize his point, he cups my junk, cradling my balls in his palm.
Stiles works his mouth over the hard ridge, soaking the thin cotton until it plasters to my dick like a second skin. The tease is killing me. Pure torture. Finally, he puts me out of my miseryand peels the waistband of my boxers down my hips, chucking them to the floor.
But does he finally put his mouth on me? No! He just hovers like a creeper, breathing warm air over my sensitive dick. I’m dying to buck my hips up into his face and shove it down his throat. If it wasn’t his first time, I’d consider it.
“Stiles, man, come on. Don’t leave me like this.”
He chuckles again. I’m glad one of us is enjoying this. Stiles stretches his tongue out, placing teasing licks that criss-cross my shaft. He coats each vein and ridge with his thick saliva before delving his tongue into my slit to capture his first taste of me.
It’s not enough. Not nearly enough. I need a hell of a lot more.
He grabs the base of my dick, pointing it straight up toward his mouth, and slides his lips over my cock head. The sound that leaves my mouth is unintelligible. It’s that first lick of pleasure, going from nothing to the wet heat of his mouth, the gentle suction and glide of his velvety tongue. It’s almost too much. He does it again, and all of the air I was holding in my chest leaves my body in a rush, leaving me empty and gasping for my next breath.
Without giving me time to recover, he continues to swallow me inch by slow torturous inch, easing off and gathering more saliva in his mouth before descending again. By the time he reaches three quarters of the way down my shaft, my toes are curled tightly and I’m fisting the sheets, trying to hold back from grabbing the back of his head and fucking his mouth.
