Page 61 of King of Pain
Ma: Let me guess. A certain Italian boy sleeping on your couch at night?
And there it is. She knows me too well.
Me: Sigh, how’d you know?
Ma: I know my son. I hope I get to video call with you guys soon. I bet he’s sexxxy.
Me: Ma!
Her laughing emoji response cracks me up, embarrassment aside.
Ma: I’m just saying. I’m so proud of you, Chance. You’re making a life for yourself.
It takes me a moment to reply. It’s hard to text with wet eyes.
Me: Thanks, Ma. That means a lot.
Ma: Have a great time at Thanksgiving, baby. And send me pictures of all the food. It sounds wonderful.
Me: Will do. Love you, Ma.
Ma: Love you too, baby.
As the conversation ends, I set my phone down and reflect on our conversation. I’m building something good here. Ma’s right about that.
She’s also right about that certain sexy Italian currently stirring awake on my couch… and in my heart.
TRACK TWENTY•SIX
Whip It
Anthony
The low thrum of the refrigerator and the soft shuffle of Little G shifting in his sleep are the only sounds breaking the stillness of the apartment. I blink into the darkness, disoriented, until I realize I need to use the bathroom.
Sliding off the couch as quietly as I can, I pad toward the hallway, and gently open and close the bathroom door. On my way back from the bathroom, I pass Chance's door and notice it’s slightly ajar. My steps falter, my gaze drawn to the sliver of light spilling into the hallway.
Through the gap, I can see him.
He’s sprawled across his bed, one arm resting above his head, the other wrapped around his cock. His hard and glistening cock. The moonlight filtering through the blinds outlines the sharp lines of his chest, rising and falling with every ragged breath. I’m rooted to the spot, frozen, incapable of looking away.
My lower abdominals tense as my eyes trace the contours of his torso, the deep lines of his muscles, and the taut skin stretching over them. He’s… stunning. The thought surfaces unbidden, leaving a warmth in its wake. It’s part embarrassment, part something deeper, something I’m not ready to confront.
I should leave. I should go back to the couch. But I can’t. I’m cemented in place, that buried part of me demanding more.
His cock—fuck, it’s impressive. I know mine is big. I have hangups, but I’m not blind. And based on the relentless teasing I’ve endured since high school, I’m more than just big. ButChance? He can’t be much smaller than me, from what I can tell, and it looks thick too. My mouth is suddenly dry, and I have to fight the urge to swallow, afraid it’ll make a sound and pop this bubble of discretion.
Chance reaches for his nightstand and grabs something. The quiet pop of a cap fills the air, and a drizzle of lube glistens as it slides down the head of his cock and then his entire length. He strokes himself in one slow, deliberate motion, spreading it evenly. Then another stroke, the pleasure pulling a soft moan from his lips.
I feel the heat pooling low in my stomach, and with a mind of its own, my hand drifts down and squeezes my own cock through my sweatpants. It’s rock hard, the pressure from my hand offering a fleeting relief I don’t dare prolong. What the hell am I doing?
Chance’s movements change. He bends his knees, feet flat against the bed, the bottom globes of that big, bubble ass pressing against the backs of his thighs. The cap pops again, and this time he coats two fingers. My breath stills as he moves his hand lower, spreads his legs wider and begins circling and tapping against his hole with a slick precision that sends a shiver down my spine. Slowly, he pushes his fingers inside, his hips lifting slightly to find the perfect angle.
I’m transfixed, my gaze glued to every subtle shift of his body. His moans grow louder, his strokes faster. He’s completely in tune with himself, lost in his own pleasure as his fingers piston in and out of his hole in sync with each stroke of his cock. It’s... mesmerizing.
My hand gives another reflexive squeeze, then another. I know I should stop, but I’m powerless against the scene unfolding before me. Then, as his breathing turns shallow and erratic, I hear him gasp out words that turn me completely inside out and set my entire body ablaze.
“Fuck me, Ant. Fucking wreck my hole, Beautiful.”
