Page 100 of Breakout Year
“Yeah, but I want to be gay with doing this.” The cord was soft on the interior of Eitan’s wrists. Normally, his brain wanted all the information at once: the bounce of an infield hop, the tic of a pitcher’s delivery that distinguished a fastball from a curve. “I like the idea of you being the only thing I can focus on.”
“You don’t need to—” Akiva shook his head. “You can just like things because you like them.”
“Fine,” Eitan said. “Well, I like you.”
That made Akiva smile. He shucked off his shirt, kicked down his pants. He was long and lean and pale, and Eitan wanted to know every inch of him. Wanted to feel every inch of him. When Akiva levered himself over Eitan, sitting across his hips and taking up his entire field of view, Eitan groaned.
Akiva grabbed him through his shorts, hand at the base of his cock, cupping his balls. “I woke up this morning and thought about fucking you.”
“You weren’t mad I disturbed you in the middle of the night?”
“Mad? No. Worried, yes.” Akiva tightened his hand fractionally, and Eitan could feel it in his balls and up his spine and somehow in the soles of his feet.
The slight scratch of cotton grounded him. He was here and nowhere else. He was here and doing this and in love. If you’d asked him a year ago if he’d envisioned his life as being tied to a bed about to be railed by a man who had a slight New Jersey accent that came out when he drank, Eitan would have laughed it off.
Now, he moaned and moaned some more when Akiva spit on his hand and stuck it into Eitan’s shorts and began to jerk him with a loose circle of his fist guaranteed to give Eitan absolutely no relief. This wasn’t the rush of the train or the franticness of that first night or like anything since. No, this was slow, deliberate, and Eitan’s body demanded more, a humming edge he wanted to test the limits of.
“Kiss me,” Eitan said, and Akiva leaned over him, mouth almost to Eitan’s, hand not increasing its pace. The angle was tricky, but Eitan got his feet under him, pushed himself up, weight resting in his shoulders until he could almost reach Akiva’s mouth, had Akiva not drawn back at the last second. The cords bit very slightly into Eitan’s hands, possibly Akiva’s intent.
“You do not do well with delayed gratification.” Akiva would have sounded stern if not for the lift at the edge of his mouth.
Eitan laughed. “What gave that away?”
“Every single thing about you.” But he dragged down Eitan’s shorts until he was entirely naked, went to strip off his own.
“Don’t.” Eitan rolled himself meaningfully. “Could you come up here?”
This time, Akiva didn’t hold himself back, just sat with his knees on either side of Eitan’s shoulders and let Eitan rub his face against his briefs. There was gay and there was gay as in being so desperate for someone you wanted to suck cotton, and Eitan was apparently that kind of gay.
Eventually, Akiva shifted down his waistband, held Eitan’s hair and drove the first few inches of his cock into his mouth. Eitan wasn’t choking, exactly, but his lips felt stretched pleasantly, his face dampening with spit. Having the kind of sex you wanted to have, it turned out, was a little funny and a little gross, and better for being each.
After a minute, Akiva pulled back.
“Don’t stop on my account.” Eitan brushed his chin against the pillowcase to wipe it off.
“I was stopping so I didn’t come on your face.”
“I like how you just say things,” Eitan said. “Words, I mean.”
“You like how I say words?”
“I like how you’re matter-of-fact about sex. I wouldn’t have called that.”
“Because I’m Orthodox?” Akiva asked.
“Because you’re…” Eitan felt around for the right word. “Self-contained.”
For that, he got another long kiss, then Akiva brought out a container of lube and showed it to him like a waiter might a bottle of wine. He applied some on his fingers, rubbed them together, settled himself between Eitan’s parted knees.
“I like how you say words too.” Akiva pressed a kiss to Eitan’s lower calf—his ankle really—something tiny but carefully placed. The first touch of his fingers to Eitan’s hole was cold, the texture of the lube slick. Eitan occasionally encountered fabrics that he really didn’t like the feel of for no particular reason, and for a moment, he worried this kind of lube would be the same.
Then Akiva pushed inside him with his fingertips, working him open gradually but not hesitantly. It felt good, different than when Eitan had tried this on himself over the years, a different sort of good than having his cock inside Akiva’s mouth. A slow spread of pleasure that made his balls ache and his brain collapse down to a series of statements, most of which were I love you and an occasional never stop doing this.
Akiva had mentioned he’d had enough other partners to merit a rough ballpark versus an exact number. It didn’t matter, not when Eitan got the strange urge to buy them each a fruit bouquet if this was what they’d resulted in.
“What are you thinking about?” Akiva asked.
He’d paused, and Eitan was not going to beg him to go back to fingering him, but the possibility was looking more and more reasonable. “Buying your exes presents if it made you like this in bed.”
