Page 18 of Small City Heart
With his lips pressed to the sweet hollow behind Charlie’s jaw, Patrick started to lose his fight for control. Not of the situation. Not of Charlie’s hands. But of himself. Of his heart.
Charlie jerked one hand free, but rather than grabbing his cock, which Patrick was sure he was dying to do, he reached back and threaded his fingers into Patrick’s hair.
Then Charlie came, a cry tore from his throat, and his body throbbed hard around Patrick’s cock. Patrick held Charlie close through his aftershocks, rocking their bodies together through his own orgasm, one arm wrapped across Charlie’s chest, a hand over his heart.
It was probably the physicality of Charlie’s orgasm, the contractions of his body, that sent Patrick over, that dropped him off the top of a cliff and let him fall gratefully to the bottom. But afterward, he wondered if it had been the feeling of Charlie’s heartbeat thundering against his palm that had pushed him over the edge.
Because once it was over, that was the most overwhelming sensation. Their heartbeats. Pounding together. In sync.
Patrick pulled out and Charlie rolled over with a grunt, tossing the messy pillow to the floor. The pillow had borne the brunt of his orgasm, but there were sticky threads of semen on his stomach and cock. Patrick bent down and licked him clean, enjoying Charlie’s oversensitive twitching before ditching his condom in a nearby wastebasket.
Charlie was flushed and sweaty. Quite frankly, he looked like he’d been fucked and fucked good. His eyelashes were a little wet, and he’d yet to completely catch his breath. Without asking, Patrick grabbed his camera off the bedside table and snapped another picture of Charlie’s face.
Charlie laughed and took the camera gently from Patrick’s hands. “Come here. Selfie time.”
“This camera is worth thousands of dollars, and you want to take a selfie with it?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.”
Patrick lay down next to Charlie so their heads were close together. Charlie wrapped his arm around Patrick and held the camera out away from their faces.
“Smile.”
“I am, bossy,” Patrick said, but he laughed. Then he laughed again when Charlie took the picture. In their next selfie, Charlie was kissing his cheek, and in the last one, Patrick brushed their lips together softly.
Charlie set the camera aside. “I haven’t come like that in a long time.”
“Haven’t come how?”
“Hands free.”
Patrick grinned, delighted that it had been different for Charlie too. That it had been special in some way.
“You had the pillow,” Patrick teased.
“True. It didn’t feel like it was the pillow that made me come but your cock. My whole body is still buzzing from it.”
“Good.” Patrick snuggled closer, brushing his fingers through Charlie’s dark, sweat-damp hair.
“Yeah.” Charlie’s eyes closed, and his limbs started to go heavy with sleep. “Will you send me those selfies?”
“Sure.”
“To remember this.”
The sound of rushing water suddenly filled Patrick’s ears. “Oh. Okay.”
Charlie fluttered his eyes open, but Patrick could tell he was barely holding on to consciousness. “For when the weekend is over and you have to leave.”
Right. Leaving.
The prospect didn’t seem so easy to Patrick anymore.
