Page 18 of Christmas Miracle
TEN
John was pushing too far, too fast, and he knew it, but then Brett was so eager. The passivity that he knew to be a primary trait of his best friend was fading away, and little lightning-storms of arousal and desire were flashing in his eyes now and again.
John wanted more. He wanted to see Brett when he lost all control. He hadn’t even thought such a thing was possible, but now that he did, it was like he was obsessed with it.
Which had led to Brett on top of him, John’s larger body pinned down to the bed, trapped even by Brett’s lesser weight, that should have been terrifying, and John wasn’t sure why it wasn’t, why it felt like the most real thing, the mostrightthing, that had ever happened to him.
“John, are you sure …?” Brett started, but John shook his head and closed his eyes, focusing on not pushing his hips up to meet Brett. Not completely humiliating himself, though honestly, maybe it was too far for that. High on the release of tension, he had acted like an idiot, a desperate idiot.
Probably because he was. So desperate for all of this, and even though he was the straight one, the one who had held onto that in the face of any evidence to the contrary. He would go as far as Brett was comfortable going, and suddenly, it was like he had realized that this huge weight he had been carrying around was something that he could actually put down. He didn’t have to carry it. He’d been choosing to.
It all seemed so simple, though later, who knew? For now, he was free of it, and when he felt the hot press of a thick, hard cock against his ass, he knew that Brett was fighting off some feelings of his own. The more he focused on Brett the more John could feel the tension in his body, the faint trembling.
What it meant, he didn’t know and didn’t much care, either. He knew he wanted Brett, and that Brett wanted him, and that seemed like enough to him, at least for the moment. The rest of it they could figure out later.
So, once more, John pushed it. He rocked his hips up, pressing the firm roundness of his ass toward Brett, and not just a little bit, either. He made it very obvious what he was doing, and then he would see what Brett did about it. If he ran from John’s obvious arousal, or …
“John,” Brett gasped, and there was a different tone to his voice, something urgent, demanding, aroused. Those fingers had been gliding over John’s back, still rubbing at the knots, still forcing blood into areas that had been tense and tight for far too long, but they slid up the length of his spine to grip at his shoulders.
Brett leaned forward, his chest pressing against John’s back for just a second, his hands tight on his shoulders, which had never felt so relaxed.
“John, you should be careful.” Brett’s breath puffed over John’s ear, sending shivers of delight dancing through him. Brett was pressing back down against him so that their bodies were actually thrusting in perfect rhythm, a mimicry of sex only, so then why was it so much more intense than anything else that he had ever done?
“Don’t wanna. For once, I just want …” John started and then shook his head as he pressed up more firmly than ever against Brett’s erection. Having another man’s cock so close to his ass, it should have terrified him, but it just felt right somehow because it was Brett.
“Okay,” Brett whispered back, and it seemed like he really did understand. Later, maybe, there would be talk, too much talk, about what this meant. John would deal with that if it happened.
Brett’s hands smoothed down John’s back, over his sides, and John shifted his hips a little so that those talented, skilled fingers could brush over his stomach to the button of his jeans, which Brett popped open. Fingertips snagged in the waistband of John’s pants, and they were drawn down as John closed his eyes and just let it happen.
He had started this, and he knew it, and now, Brett was taking over. That made it easier, somehow.
“How far should we …?” Brett started, and John shook his head. He had liked this better when there was no talking.
“As far as you want,” he outright told him. If pressed, he might tell Brett how much he wanted him, how he might actually beg Brett for more if he didn’t get it. But, luckily for him, Brett didn’t make him do that.
“I don’t have condoms,” Brett admitted, and John looked over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. What sort of grown man didn’t have condoms in his house? He had wondered about Brett’s experience level, but he was starting to think that it was even lower than he had thought.
“Brett, are you a virgin?” he asked, and Brett flushed, but nodded, his gaze glancing away from John’s as though ashamed. John swallowed, the responsibility suddenly seeming much higher to him, but really, he had his own confession to make. “Me too. This way.”
It seemed to take it up another notch, this knowledge, freely admitted, that this was the first time for both of them. It helped John relax a little more, though, too. Later, maybe, if he felt brave, he might ask Brett why he had waited so long, but for now, it just pleased John to think that he was going to be the first and that he meant enough, at least, for Brett to give that to him.
“I have a condom,” John admitted. “Hold on, I’ll …” He reached out, snagged the waistband of his discarded pants with just his fingertips, slid his hand into his pocket and tugged it out, handing the foil packet over behind his back to Brett.
He could have just rolled over, he supposed, and that would have made things easier in some ways. But he wanted to keep floating in this haze, to just let something happen that he had honestly wanted for so long, but never let himself have. He could have it, finally, though, and with someone he trusted. Part of him was afraid that if he rolled over, this fragile, tentative accord that they had reached between the two of them would vanish.
They might not do this at all, and that, surprisingly, would feel like a huge tragedy to John.
Luckily, Brett was a quick learner. John felt the movements behind him as Brett slid the condom onto himself, fumbling a little, but he got it on. Then that weight was back on him, pressing him down into the bed, his cock leaking onto Brett’s sheets and making everything more slick and slippery.
Something touched his tight hole, and at first, John assumed that it was Brett’s dick. But it was too small and slickened up. Brett’s finger, Brett was pushing his finger slowly inside of John, and John groaned, and his body flexed as he felt something inside of him for the first time.
“How did you learn to do that?” he demanded, and Brett actually chuckled softly, pushing inch by inch deeper inside of him.
“Porn exists,” Brett informed him, and John blinked his eyes open again. Brett watched porn. Gay porn. Maybe that shouldn’t be such a surprise, but he hadn’t expected it somehow. Brett was, it seemed, just full of surprises.
“Well don’t stop,” John demanded, and let his legs spread a little, giving Brett as much access to his ass as he could possibly want. “I need you.”
It was so much easier to say those words than the other three-word phrase that popped into his head. Almost the same phrase, actually, only the word in the middle would be different. But want, he could deal with better. Want was so much safer.
