Page 27 of Spring Breakup
It was wild and playful and scary—but the fun type of scary. The top of a rollercoaster scary.
Once Dean’s naked body was on full display, Tyler tried to slow his breathing and really look. Dean had the one tattoo on this inner thigh, which frankly was the best and sluttiest place for a tattoo, and he had dark, springy hair all over.
Hirsute—it jumped to the front of Tyler’s mind like old SAT vocabulary.
“Damn.” Tyler reached for Dean, but Dean flipped him onto his stomach.
“Be a good boy and stay there.”
Tyler laughed. He waited a beat before trying to roll over.
“I’m fucking serious, Tyler.”
Dean held the back of Tyler’s neck into the floor with one hand and dragged his legs wide apart with the other.
Tyler froze. He could feel Dean’s gaze.
“What are you going to do?” Tyler asked. His words were muffled by the hardwood.
It was the first time he had worried about logistics or positions. He’d been happy to let Dean muscle him into a stupor, trusting that Dean would eventually get him off in a satisfactory way.
Dean grabbed his ass. “I’m not sure yet,” he whispered. His voice was rough. “I’ve got some ideas.”
“Are you taking requests?”
“Do you have one?”
A slot machine of porn images spun behind Tyler’s eyes. Of course he had requests. “Not really.”
“I’ll get you there, Tyler. If you trust me.”
“I hardly know you.”
Dean gave a long-suffering sigh, and Tyler tried to turn over again. Dean held him down none too gently.
Tyler loved the physical push and pull. He loved losing the wrestling match. He trusted Dean to give him an orgasm. But trust was more than physical. It was emotional.
He didn’t trust Dean not to reject a kiss. He didn’t trust Dean not to laugh when Tyler needed him to be understanding. Or not to say something that unintentionally hurt. He didn’t trust Dean to let him in, to be vulnerable in turn.
Dean placed his lips on Tyler’s shoulder blade. It was at odds with the hard way he was holding Tyler down.
“Pretty, pretty.” Dean moved his mouth down Tyler’s spine. “Pretty. You know what I thought when I first saw you on the plan?”
“I hate that shirt. And every shirt he’s worn since.”
“No. I adore your shirts.”
“What a crybaby?”
“No.” Dean sat up and spread Tyler’s ass cheeks apart. “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. I thought,I want to know everything about him. I want to know what makes him tick.” He licked up Tyler’s crease. “I think I’m getting close, don’t you?”
Dean’s mouth felt so good. Too good. Tyler tried to struggle away, but Dean didn’t let him. “Pretty sure the answer to who I am isn’t found in my asshole.”
Another long beat. Tyler was learning to appreciate the breaks of silence. The moments where Dean was charging up, making up his mind, deciding on a next move or retort.
Finally, Dean chuckled. “I better check, just in case.”
He started with his mouth. His tongue. The stubble on his chin. It was the most thorough rimming Tyler had ever experienced. He’d expected Dean to be acceptable at using his mouth. He’d witnessed it from down in the spruce trees, peering up at that balcony while Leo and Rosie and Dean went at it.
