Page 19 of Between the Pipes

Shoving him back, roughly, I use the space to remove my own shirt. I also get a better look at him, and, well, I definitely don’t look like that. Too many months surviving on hospital food and no exercise robbed me of any musculature a hockey career had given me. Where he is hard, I’m soft; the flat expanse of my stomach is almost laughable compared to the ridges of his. I decide I’m going to run my tongue through each groove.

Anthony’s black eyes shine in the kitchen light, as they fix on my torso. If I hadn’t been turned on before, that look would do it for me. There’s no going back now. When he tries to step forward, I shove him back again, harder. His back comes up against the refrigerator and I keep him there with a hand on his sternum. When I reach for the soft waistband of his pants, his abdomen compresses in a deep inhale. I haul his boxers down to his feet with his pants, and follow until I’m kneeling in front of him.

Running my hands appreciatively over his thick thighs, I take a moment to enjoy the view before turning my gaze upward to his face. Anthony is looking down at me, an expression on his face that can only be described as hungry. Maintaining eye contact, I grasp the base of his dick in a firm grip and deepthroat him. Sucking him down until the head of his cock bumps the back of my throat, I tighten my grip further and he groans.

Sucking leisurely, I consider my technique. I could aim for finesse and walk him to the brink slowly, but I don’t think that’s what either of us are in the mood for. Applying teeth, I slide my mouth all the way to the tip, swirling my tongue around the head while I adjust my hands and cup his ass. This time, when I relax my jaw and hollow my cheeks, I pull him forward as I slide down, letting him know what I want.

“Fuck,” he breathes, above me, and I hear his head thunk back against the refrigerator.

Yes, fuck.Pulling him toward me once more, he takes the hint and gives two shallow thrusts into my mouth. I groan my approval and he stops holding himself back. One of his hands cups my head, fingers sliding through my short hair. Digging my fingertips into his muscles, I keep my jaw relaxed and just enjoy the ride. Anthony’s hips snap forward with earnest now, and he grunts softly with each thrust.

It’s been a long time since I’ve done this, and damn if I didn’t miss it. I’ve always loved giving head, and it’s something I know I’m good at.

My eyes are watering, and I can tell Anthony is getting close with the frantic way he’s fucking my mouth. No elegance or rhythm, just a blind race to the finish. I look up through damp lashes to see him biting his bottom lip with his eyes shut tight; his hand is rough on the back of my head—I couldn’t pull away even if I wanted to. Which, I decidedly do not.

When he comes, shooting down my throat after a violent thrust forward, I hold his pelvis close to my face as I drink him down. I can’t help but groan at the taste of him.Goddamn I missed this. Neither one of us is in a hurry to let go, although his hand relaxes on my head as he gives a couple more lazy thrusts. When I finally let him slide from my mouth, I run my tongue over the tip of him, chasing the taste of his cum.

“Fuck,” Anthony says again, and I rise slowly to standing, making sure to trace my mouth over his abs on the way up. The smattering of dark hair over his pecs extends down his abdomen in a happy trail that I appreciate a little more than I should. “I’ve never…Jesus, did I hurt you?”

I’m standing now, and his hands find my hips. His fingers snake below my waistband, and he angles my hips forward until they are resting against him.

“No,” I answer, honestly, even though my lips are swollen and my eyelashes are damp where my eyes were watering, “you didn’t hurt me. That’s what Iwantedyou to do.”

“Fuck,” he says again, and my lips twitch into a small smile. It’s always a good sign when your lover can’t form a coherent sentence.

“How quick do you recover? Maybe we could do that again before you leave.” I pat a hand against his bare hip. “Blow job for the road.”

“Me? No way, it’syourturn.” He smiles at me, wide and without restraint. Like he’s looking forward to it. My dick is painfully hard at this point, and I won’t pretend I haven’t been imagining him on his knees in front of me. But sucking dick wasn’t in his repertoire before now, and it might not be something he’s comfortable with. I’m horny, not an asshole.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“Thank you,” he says, still smiling at me. His thumb is dipping ever lower into my pants, tracing a wide circle over the skin he can reach. “I want to, though.”

“Not too gay for you?” I ask, only partly joking. It’s one thing to get sucked off by a guy and a complete other to do it yourself.

“Oh, sorry, maybe that wasn’t clear enough.” He clears his throat, making his voice only a little less gravely. I wish he wouldnarrate audiobooks; I wouldn’t mind going to sleep every night with that voice in my ears. “Ireallywant to do this.”

“Alright, well…just putting it out there: you don’t have to reciprocate. A hand works just as well.”

“Mm,” Anthony hums, and uses the positioning of his palms to slide my pants down my narrow hips. His bulk seems even more apparent, with him leaned against my refrigerator naked. I’m not a small guy, by any means, but I feel that way now.

He’s adjusted my pants enough that he can slide one hand lazily inside. I’ve got my eyes fixed on his face, watching as his eyelids lower and his dark lashes feather across his cheeks. He’s watching his hand, and this knowledge only adds to my arousal. His fingers are warm as they trail over my shaft and down over my balls, exploring. He’s in no hurry, and neither am I. I’d nearly forgotten, how good it feels to be touched.

Eventually, he looks back up at me. He leans in and begins pressing gentle kisses along my collarbone, fingers still continuing their slow investigation. With his head bent in front of mine, I catch a whiff of his hair and my groan has little to do with his hand on my dick. I can’t wait to sink my fingers into that hair andpull.

“Couch?” Anthony’s voice is muffled against my skin.

“What?”

“Can we do this over on the couch?”

“Oh, sure.” Actually, the low light of the living room will be a welcome change for my tired eyes. As much as I like being able to see his face clearly, I really don’t want to get a headache, which is precisely what will happen if I don’t take a break from bright lights.

Anthony’s hand slides out of my pants, and he hooks his thumbs into the waist to pull them back into place. It’s needless, since I’ll be removing them soon enough, but also oddly sweet. Itry to move back, meaning to leave the kitchen and head into the living room, but he stops me with firm hands cupped around my ribs. Focusing my gaze on his face, I watch his eyes skate over my chest and down over my stomach. He makes a low sound in the back of his throat, sliding his hands down and back up again. The look is so deliberately assessing, I have the ridiculous urge to cover myself up or make a joke about how I compare to his athlete’s body.

“Couch,” he repeats, and the gravel is back in his voice. He nudges me back, licking his lips.

“Right.” Honestly, all he’s going to have to do is look at me likethatagain and I’ll come.

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