I followed suit, more clumsily. It felt weird to be separate from him, weird to be on my feet again, weird to have my head out in the breeze. I was off balance in a lot of ways in that moment, which was probably why, when he hauled his own helmet off, I blurted;
“Ohh, your curls are all squashed!” – instead of, I dunno, cutting out my tongue…
Quinn laughed and inclined slightly from the waist, leaning forward. “Go on, then…”
It was a clear invitation, and I accepted before I could overthink it, reaching out to ruffle things back to a semblance of normal.
He did the one-eyebrow thing. “Better?”
“Much better,” I told him. And I’m never washing my hand again…
“Yours is definitely, ah, improved from the first time as well,” he murmured.
Tell me about it…”Yeah, my barber finally got his cast removed and caught up on his backlog, so next time Lindsey sees me she’s gonna have to find something else to criticise…”
He grinned. “Ahh…so that’s why you were so sour!”
“I wasn’t sour!”
That eyebrow again, eyes wickedly alive beneath, dancing. “You were sour…” Suddenly he was serious. “Jeremy? Do we…have something…here?” His finger, pointing first at his chest then mine, drawing a line, a connection. Then he was in retreat. “Or…I mean, maybe I’m imagining it, I know it could just be me-”
“It’s not just you,” I assured him. “Definitely not just you…”
His whole body sagged in relief. “Well, thank god. Because that would’ve been a hella uncomfortable ride back…”
I laughed. He laughed. I looked away for a moment, at the crumpled khaki hills receding to the north, then stole another glance. He was watching me, biting down a grin – trying to, but it escaped. I smiled back. He laughed. I laughed.
I wanted to touch him, really touch him, but we were in public – sort of. “Should we…maybe head home?” I prompted.
He nodded, still biting his lip to hold back his thrill. I didn’t want him holding back. I reached out and untucked it – he growled and snapped after my retreating thumb like a dog. I laughed, he laughed, and instead of getting going we stood there doing that kind of shit for another ten minutes and it was just massively cheesy and dumb and so indescribably good…
When we hopped on the bike I wrapped my arms all the way around him for a moment and squeezed. God, he was thicc…in general I don’t like to appropriate words, but there’s just no alternative out there that captures the sheer glory of so. much. man.
It was like a dream, the return journey. Like a very good dream, where the guy you’ve been secretly lusting after for months is somehow inexplicably sitting all cosily tucked up between your thighs. I imagined us like that, leaning back in a dimly lit booth at a bar, on a sofa, in bed of a weekend morning…It’d work, I mused. There was a lot of him, sure, but he was shorter than me, so it’d definitely work…
We got back to mine and dismounted, shucked off our helmets. I reached out to ‘fix’ his hair uninvited – this time he leaned into my hand, prolonging the contact, and I pulled him in for a quick hug on the driveway, but once we got inside and he shed his riding gear, he seemed to retreat into himself, arms crossed over his chest, fingers fidgeting on opposing biceps.
I wondered if he was discomfited by his surroundings. My parents’ house isn’t palatial by any means, but it does have sea views, glossy matai floors, designer rugs, up-to-the-minute furnishings…
“Are you alright?” I asked him, running a finger down one of those very un-still arms.
He blinked rapidly. “I’m…like, you should probably know, I’m kinda new to this. I mean, not brand new, to be clear, but just…”
And yet you managed to reach out, make the first move, while I was still second-guessing myself…
I tugged his hands away, stilling their strange dance so I could hold them, only the tips of the fingers, connection but distance.
“I’m just happy you’re here. Seriously. I’m so happy you’re here right now, and anything we do is okay, including nothing. Don’t stress about getting things wrong – as long as we keep the communication channels open, there is no wrong.”
His laugh was awkward, and he still looked off-balance, but what came out of his mouth was bold as hell.
“Mate. I’m not here to do nothing…”
I knew there was a little bit of faking it ’til you make it in there, and I loved him for it. I wrapped my arms about him again, front-wise this time, making a few seconds’ contact with all that solid bulk, before stepping back to survey him, letting him feel the heat of my gaze, from his feet all the way up, lingering on those enticingly full lips…
“You into kissing?”
“Yeah,” he gulped hoarsely.
Yeah. He was. He really was. I sat on the couch and pulled him down to straddle my lap, the insides of his meaty thighs planted hard over mine, and after only a couple of minutes making out I could feel tiny courses of shudders transmitting through from them, little puppy-shivers of need. When I palmed his back, his sides, I felt them again. Electric with excitement, all in, all over…
While my hands roamed everywhere, his were laser-focused, first impatiently working my top free at the waist, then fumbling and fumbling with the buttons on my jeans fly. He lost the rhythm of our kiss when he switched his attention there properly, which was fine because it gave me an opportunity to break off and lavish some attention on his neck – and coax a couple of infinitesimal whimpers out of him…
Then my buttons gave way at last, and in an instant Quinn was reared back, meeting my eyes, his own wide and stormy, before literally tumbling off my lap and onto the hard wooden floor between my knees.
“Please…?” He was panting, quivering. Goddamn.
I touched his cheek with the back of my hand. “Anything you want, baby.”
Okay, so it wasn’t the most sophisticated head I ever got, but who cares about finesse when hunger’s in the room? I didn’t need to be seduced. I was already there with him, had been since day one – but even if I hadn’t? The way he took me in…I’d never witnessed anyone in such utter bodily desperation to get a piece of me…
Feeling myself getting close a few minutes later, I pushed him back, the heel of my hand on his forehead, my throbbing tip an inch from his searching mouth. He resisted hard, zeroed in on the prize…
“Hey,” I cooed, “hey, shh, it’s okay…you’re gonna get it, don’t worry. Just let me have a moment here, alright?”
Obviously he heard me, but I don’t know that he actually made sense of what I said. There was far more tempestuous want than understanding in the look he gave me. And…goddamn again…he was as smokin’ with his sulky face on as he was with his sunny one, the inadvertent protrusion of his lower lip stupidly sexy…I ran my hand up my shaft, squeezing tight, milking a few drops of clear fluid onto the knuckle of my index finger, offering it up as he strained forward.
“Lick….” I whispered. “Yeah, that’s it…you like that, hmm? Want more? Okay, but we’re gonna slow it down for a bit now, uh-huh?”