Page 66 of Wrap Around
Movement has my eyes shifting up to find Gideon looking over his shoulder at me, smirking. "Like what you see?"
"Yeah, because I can see it all."
"Is that a problem?"
"Not for me."
He snorts a laugh and turns around to lean back on the edge of the counter, effectively letting me get an eyeful of the front of him, too. Good Lord, that thing is thick. And long. And perfect…
"Silas?"
I shake my head to clear the dick cloud. "Hmm?"
"I was asking about the break. What are you over there thinking about?"
"Just wondering how I’ll fit that thing inside me," I say, giving his dick print a pointed look.
There's not much room for embarrassment between us anymore, not with how often we've spent naked in the last month, but he still blushes. It seems we take turns getting flustered about different things, and any talk of penetrative sex past a finger or two seems to get to him.
"Well maybe we can fuck around and find out, yeah?"
That gets my attention. "Really?"
His chortle is akin to a pinched cheek and pat on the head. However worried he is, he seems to find my enthusiasm endearing. But of course I'm enthusiastic. I'm a twenty-one-year old repressed cis gay boy whose life-long crush is dangling his dick in front of me like a proverbial carrot. And Gideon is beyond gorgeous, and sweet, and delicious.
"Quit looking at me like that or we'll be late to board the flight to Des Moines," he says seriously. "We've established that I'm a weak man, Silas. That's why we can't sit with each other on the plane."
My eyes narrow. I forgot I was still mad about that. I got distracted by waking up too damn early and following Gideon's ass around in those God forsaken shorts. We argued about it the whole way home last night, and in bed. I moped while he kissed and cooed at me and kept on moping right until he asked me to forgive him with two fingers. Clearly asking for forgiveness didn't mean he was changing his mind at all.
"Don't start," Gideon says, giving me a stern look over the top of his coffee cup. "You know I'm right. It's suspicious enough that we're all buddied up all of a sudden. Sitting next to each other on a five-hour flight, with you purposefully trying to get me hard thewhole time, isn't a smart decision. I don't want to get us kicked off the team because we get caught trying to jerk each other off under one of those tiny blankets." He points at me. "And don't try telling me you won't do that shit on purpose, because that shit's getting old."
I can't help it, as annoyed as I am with him, mostly because I know he's right, I can't hold back a smirk. I may or may not have been getting joy out of doing things to get Gideon worked up when we're in inappropriate places. Such as at the beginning of practice when we're all getting stretched out, when he's trying to do speed drills, or when he's on the way to see the trainer in only a pair of shorts and a sleeveless shirt. Just yesterday, I spent what could be considered far too much time wearing only a jock, while stretching out the hamstring cramp I suddenly had. I'm still not convinced his decision to sit far, far away from me on the flight to our next game in Iowa isn't punishment for the fact that he had to wait until everyone left to take a shower. Never mind that he does that most days anyway. Apparently, I'm a problem now.
"You're just mad because I have more control than you."
"Menace," he says, enunciating the word.
"So what's this about fucking around?" I say, changing the subject.
He huffs a laugh. "I'll make you a deal," he says, putting his cup down and moving into my space, hands on my waist to pull me close. "Behave on this trip, at least when we're around others, and I'll take you out of town for the break." His breath on my neck sends goosebumps erupting all over my body. "I'll take you somewhere private, and I'll fuck you right."
Oh, well damn.
That doesn't exactly solve ourno boners on the planedilemma, now does it?
The weekend is rough. Not only do I spend the first flight pointedly trying to avoid looking in Gideon's direction, but several members of the team are coughing and blowing their noses. I mask up and threaten anyone that comes near me with a tiny can of Lysol spray.
The first night isn't so bad, since all we had to do was fly, eat dinner, and rest. Not up to spending any more time around others, Gideon and I decide to order in for dinner, but what he really ends up eating isme. And by that I mean he bends me over the very familiar desk, spreads my cheeks, and puts his tongue inside me.There.
At first, I don't know what's happening. That desk has been taunting us since we entered the room. We almost always stay at the same hotel chain, so all the rooms are pretty similar, but something about the setup in the Iowa hotel is achingly familiar. I knew as soon as I caught Gideon's eye in the reflection of the mirror that he was remembering the same thing. Only, while I'm feeling all hot and bothered over it, he seems to be wrestling with his lingering negative feelings about what happened that night. He didn't want to shower with me, and I try to ready myself for a moody night. We've been in such a happy little bubble that I forget how much we've been through to get where we are. I'm ready to talk to him about it, and remind him just how far we've come, but he's on me the moment I step out of the bathroom. The towel is snatched from around my waist, and he manhandles me into the same position he had me in that night—bent over the desk, knee hiked up and one hand planted on the mirror, making hard eye contact through the glass while he palms my cheeks roughly.
I'm expecting his fingers, maybe some teasing. What I don't expect is for him to sit in the chair behind me and continue toplay with my ass, massaging the muscles, spreading my cheeks wide. I'm skeeved out over the idea of him being eye to eye with my asshole. I mean, sure, he's had his fingers there a lot and his dick there once. But does he really need to be so up close and personal with it?And is he… whispering?
"What are you doing?" I hiss, trying to hide how embarrassed I am to have him back there looking into my soul via my asshole and muttering to himself.
He doesn't bother answering me. But when I try to push myself up to stand, he grips my left hip and yanks me back while pushing on my raised thigh, so my leg stays up. Scrambling, I fall onto my forearms. My breath fogs up the glass on a hard exhale when Gideon pushes hisfaceinto myass crackand licks a stripe from taint to tail.
"Whaaattt the hell are you–oof–"
