Page 34 of Punchline
“I get that. But what’s waiting a little longer to be sure it’s what you want?” I hesitated. “I know you want to do stuff with guys. And I’m not rejecting you or saying no. I just want to be sure thatyou’resure you want to do that stuffnow. Withme.”
“Idowant to,” he rasped without hesitation. “I know I want you.” Lowering his gaze, he sighed. “But… yeah. You’re right. I guess that’s why I backed off in the car last night.”
It was my turn for some serious relief. “I want to do it all too. But I’d rather be frustrated and horny for a while longer than be something you regret.”
Jake cupped my jaw and kissed me, letting it linger. When he touched his hot forehead to mine, he murmured, “I don’t see myself regretting anything with you.”
“I don’t either. Let’s play it safe anyway? Even if we drive ourselves insane for a little while?”
He huffed a warm laugh across my lips. “Probably a good idea.” Loosening his embrace and turning to check on the food, he added, “To tell you the truth, I had this conversation with Carson earlier. Telling him I didn’t want to rush. I felt kind of stupid for cutting things short last night, but… ”
“But if you weren’t sure, then cutting it short was theright thing to do.” I touched his back as he continued cooking. “We’ll get there. I’m about ninety-nine percent sure one of us is going to end up fucking the other before too much longer.”
The way his breath stuttered had my dick almost immediately getting hard. So did the heat in his eyes when he met mine. “Do you, uh… ” He swallowed. “Do you have a preference there?”
“About topping or bottoming?”
Jake nodded.
I was suddenly out of breath, but I managed, “I prefer to top. But I’ll go either way.”
I fully expected a flash of panic in his eyes. A lot of guys, especially the ones who were just getting the hang of being with another guy, shied away from bottoming. Even those who were curious about it were afraid it would hurt.
If Jake had that same fear, he wasn’t letting it show now. Nothing in his face telegraphed anything but pure hunger.
Oh Jesus. You want to get fucked, don’t you?
“So you, um… ” I gulped. “You want to try bottoming? Not tonight, but… eventually?”
“Yeah,” he breathed. “I do.”
Oh, fucking hell…
I cleared my throat for the third time. “Why do I get the feeling that ‘eventually’ is really, really soon?”
His laugh was almost soundless. “I sure hope it is.”
In hindsight, if we really were going to tap the brakes and proceed with caution, I probably should’ve slept in my own bed last night.
We didn’t fuck. I suspected lack of condoms had moreto do with that than actually sticking to“let’s not rush things,”but it got the job done.
On the other hand, the fact that he’d still been uncertain about giving head told me we were doing the right thing. Oral and anal were two very different things, of course, and oral was more of a rite of passage for queer dudes than anal, but the hesitation about one said we should proceed with caution inbothdepartments. He didn’t have to blow me and he didn’t have to bottom for me; I just wanted to make sure he was ready for anything and everything wedidtry.
By the time we called it a night, he seemed pretty damn satisfied with a long session of making out naked, which culminated in us jerking each other off. That had necessitated a shower, which led to more making out, and we’d finally collapsed together in his bed.
Now, as my alarm rudely informed me I needed to get my ass to practice, I was glad we’d only gone as far as we had. There was time. This morning, I had to disentangle myself from Jake’s arms and legs to get to my phone, and I’d barely silenced it before he’d curled around me again. I was horny as all hell, and his morning wood pressing against my ass wasn’t helping, but I had to get up and get moving.
In a minute.
If we’d gone too far, too fast, we wouldn’t be cuddled up like this. We probably wouldn’t even be in the same bed this morning.
So as frustrating as it was—as much as I wanted to drill that gorgeous ass until neither of us could move—this was the right thing.
Jake’s stubbled chin scraped my shoulder, and then he kissed the side of my neck. “What time is it?”
“Seven.”
He made an adorably unhappy sound. “Why are we conscious, then?”
