Page 59 of Charlie Sunshine
I never thought I’d see him like this. He’s kneeling at my feet, naked apart from a pair of blue boxer briefs that are tented spectacularly. He’s so beautiful. Broad shoulders, a chest roughened with dark curly hair, and tight abs that lead down to a flat stomach and long legs. He noses my jockstrap, his eyes closed, and I briefly imagine how he might react if I were wearing lace. Would he be turned on, or repelled as quite a few blokes have been? I push the thought away—there are better questions to answer tonight. Like how he’ll look when I make him come the first time.
“Come up here,” I say hoarsely. “And lose the underwear.”
“You too,” he mutters.
We both pull them off quickly, and I groan when our bodies come together naked for the first time. It feels indescribably right.
“Oh, Misha,” I breathe, and he smiles tightly.
“I know, babe.”
The endearment should sound strange coming from him because he never uses them, but somehow it sounds perfect, and my chest feels warm all the way through.
“Bed,” he says. “I want us in bed together.Mybed.”
There’s something possessive in his voice. If I were in my right mind, I’d pay attention to it, but I’m not, so instead I kiss him and we stagger down the hallway with our lips locked. Groans and the occasionalouchescape us as we bang into doors and a hall table that sadly doesn’t survive the collision.
“Oh,” I say, sadly looking down at the splintered piece of wood. “I liked that table.”
“I’m sorry you’re sad,” he gasps, kissing me again and stealing my thoughts. “I’ll buy you another one,” he says passionately. “Exactly the same. I’ll buy you ten.”
That deserves a kiss, so I do that, and then again and again until he’s pushing me onto the bed and I feel the cold sheets under my back and then the heated skin of his body as he lowers himself onto me.
“Oh my God,” I gasp. “That feels incredible, Misha.”
His weight feels as if it’s been calibrated just for me. Not too heavy and not too light. It’s all utterly perfect—his hairy chest rubbing my nipples, the pressure of his cock against mine, the sticky slide of his precome.
He pulls back. “How do you want it?” he asks in a low voice, bending to nuzzle my nipples. A bright flash of heat jolts me with pleasure, and I arch against his talented mouth.
“Like that,” I gasp, grabbing his head and urging him on.
He sucks on the small disc happily, his tongue laving over it. He gives a little bite, and I cry out, grabbing his bum and grinding against him.
“No, wait,” he says, pulling back. I choke out a protest, and he shakes his head. “I’m going to come if we do that,” he gasps. He looks at me intently, his hair sticking up from where my hands have been in it and a deep flush over those high cheekbones. “Can I fuck you? Do you like that?”
“Iloveit,” I say far too fervently.
“Are you sure? I’m vers. I can go either way.”
“I do like to switch occasionally, but I prefer to bottom.”
“Oh, Charlie,” he says and bends to kiss me again. When he pulls back this time, I don’t chase his mouth. Instead, I lie back on his sheets and spread my legs as he rifles in his bedside table for supplies.
When he looks back, he stills. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he says in a wondering voice.
I flush. “Really?” Somehow those words mean more with Misha.
He nods, strong emotion running over his face. “How did I never see?”
I smile. “That goes both ways, Misha.” I hold out my arms. “Come here,” I command, and he scrambles to obey.
Resting my legs on either side of his knees, I fist my cock lazily, watching as he squirts lube on his fingers and rubs them together to warm it. Then I close my eyes at the first touch of his fingers at my hole. He’s gentle but thorough, spreading the liquid around my entrance and tickling the sensitive skin until I groan and swallow hard.
I open my eyes at the tap and slow slide in of his first finger. Hegoes gently, first one finger and then a second, and something that has always seemed a bit of a ball-ache to me before—a necessary but slightly clinical step—is suddenly transformed. His touch is sensual, and he plays with me, his fingers widening and teasing my channel while his other hand drifts over my torso, tracing the muscles of my abdomen and the lines of my groin. He runs his fingers along the sensitive crease of my thigh, and the touch feels like fire on my skin. I moan, arching into his hand and riding the fingers in my hole.
I might be a surprise to him, but he’s got a few of his own, and his tenderness is one of them. If I ever thought of Misha and sex, I’d imagined he’d be forceful and passionate and free of all emotion apart from a mutual getting off. This focussed care is shocking and so erotic.
Pulling him down to me, I arch and groan into his mouth when his fingers graze my prostate again. It’s sensitive and swollen from his attention. I take his mouth and kiss him, riding his fingers before pulling back to moan. “Come on, Misha, please. Need you.”
