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Falling
Chapter 11 of "Where There's Heat"
Justin's POV
Justin
It’s quiet.
We didn’t talk on the ride back to his place or on the two-block walk from his garage to his apartment or the three flights of stairs up to his front door. And we aren’t talking now.
He strips, brushes his teeth and gets in bed without even looking at me. I stand, fully clothed, in the doorway waiting for something. An invitation? I’m not sure.
I don’t know what I thought would happen? But, he waited for me. That’s something. I think that’s something. After storming out of there he waited for me. He stopped at some point and thought ‘I shouldn’t leave him’ or ‘I want him to come home with me’ or even ‘if he died tonight that wouldn’t be cool’. He thought something about me, he considered me. I’m not saying it’s a lot, I’m not saying it’s enough. But it’s something.
“Come over here,” he says in a tired voice as he tosses back the duvet. I pull my clothes off slowly and crawl in bed with him. If I knew what was good for me I’d run screaming. But I can’t. My body won’t let me out of his vicinity. It craves him. Now that it knows he exists in the world it won’t let me settle for something else…something less.
When I’m under the covers he rolls toward me, placing a few kisses on my chest and then sliding on top of me. Guess he’s not angry. Maybe he’s just…I don’t know. Maybe he just hates that he feels something for me too. Can’t say he’d admit it’s love. Even I’m scared to say the l-word. But I think deep down he knows it’s something. It’s more than fucking.
It’s late and I’m tired after the drama. Regardless, sex sounds too good to pass up. I’m hard about three seconds after he starts stroking me. His kisses are deep and wet and needy. If I didn’t know better, I might think Brian was trying to apologize. Or at the very least trying to tell me something.
He cups my ass with his hands and rolls us over so that I’m on top of him. He shifts until my weight is evenly distributed over his body and then he starts a little thrust with his hips. Our crotches grind together. Our dicks are both strained and taut against our bellies. I moan into his mouth when he thrusts and touches the crown of my dick in just the right way. He strokes my ass with his long fingers and then lets a few slip inside. I shiver and pull my lips from his so I can take a deep breath.
No one should be allowed to be this attracted to another person. It’s fatal.
I bite his bottom lip and grind my hips down into his harder. His fingers glide over my hole, teasing me. I thrust back, as if I could force his fingers inside. He laughs a little and pushes in with one finger as deep as he can go. I gasp and bite his neck. Then he slides in a second finger and starts to fuck me while he bites me back. I rut against him, whimpering into his neck and trying to speed him up. It feels urgent, needy, raw.
The way he’s rubbing my prostate is going to make me come in two seconds so I slow down and then pull his hand away. I take his wrists and place his arms above his head. I pin them there and break our kiss. I pull back and just look at him. I study his face for a minute, his eyes flash with surprise. He tries to move his arms and I shift my weight to stop him. When he realizes I’m serious about the restraint he shakes his head.
“Little boys should know their place,” he whispers as he leans up to kiss me. Our tongues slide against one another, the kiss builds slowly.
The moment I stop thinking about his hands he flips me over and pins me down to the bed. Now his eyes are lit with defiance.
Holding my wrists tightly he hovers over me, just breathing all over my face and my neck until I’m almost whimpering. One of his hands leaves my wrists and searches a drawer in the nightstand. It comes up with a red silk scarf. Brian’s wearing a smile I’ve never seen before.
He sits astride my thighs and leans up to slide the scarf through the panels of wood on the headboard. Then he takes my wrists and wraps each of them a few times before tying the scarf together and tugging to be sure I’m restrained. He starts to work his way down my torso with his tongue.
I’m nearly incoherent at the thought of being fucked by Brian while I’m tied up. No one’s ever tied me up before. A boyfriend asked once and I said no. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t want to, I just knew I didn’t. Of course, something tells me I’d let Brian put me in a sling if he asked. And slings scare me.
The minute his tongue hits the tip of my dick my arms try to pull out of the restraints. My wrists rub against the silk as I tug and pull and try to get free. I want my fingers in his hair, my hands on the back of his neck. It’s killing me not to touch him, and that’s turning me on like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
He sucks my dick slowly for a little while, waiting until I’m whimpering to move on. Then his tongue touches my hole. I jump.
“No,” I plead with him, but of course I mean yes.
He slides his tongue inside me. He has my legs over his shoulders and his hands parting my ass cheeks. He looks up, watching me squirm for a second, before dipping his head back down. He rims me like his it’s the last time he’s ever going to. He’s thorough and voracious about it.
I buck and moan and even yell at him a little. Something along the lines of, “Untie me right now motherfucker before I kill you.” My biceps stretch and strain. I can feel a burn in my muscles from the struggle. I can feel my skin getting warm and raw where the scarf crosses over my wrists.
“God, fuck me,” I plead with him. He lets his tongue slide over my hole a few more times before sitting up and reaching for a condom. He slides it on and positions himself between my legs, letting my calves rest on his shoulders. He puts the tip of his dick at my hole and smiles at me, “Ready?”
Prick.
Using my legs to pull him toward me, I get his dick about half way in with one hard pull. He laughs and leans forward, sliding in the rest of the way. With no lube there’s a little extra pinch that makes my eyes water. I gasp and revel in the pain, letting my eyes drift shut so I can study the flashes of light behind my lids.
I let Brian take over after that. My head back and my eyes closed, I focus on the way the silk feels sliding over my wrists. I move my hands just to see how much room I have to move. I test the distance to see how far I can raise my arms from the headboard. I writhe and pull and use the tether as a way to leverage my body. I grab the slack in the scarf in my hands and pull back, raising my ass off the bed and letting his dick slide in deeper.
“Fuck,” he grunts and his eyes fly open. He watches me sweat and strain and moan. He thrusts harder and little faster. I start to feel the heat and the burn sooner than I usually do.
Our chests rise and fall at a rapid pace, struggling for breath. We both grunt and struggle to keep our eyes open. I watch him, he watches me back. Every few thrusts I use the scarf to lift up, pulling him into me a little deeper. Every time his eyes get wide. Every time he’s surprised that he can go deeper.
He starts to claw at my arms, his fingers running over the silk wrapped around my wrists. He slides fingers into the restraints, touching my skin where it’s worn and hurting. Then he grabs the headboard and uses it for leverage, pushes into me almost too deep and the breath leaves my lungs. My eyes squeeze shut and my brain starts to buzz, lack of oxygen and impending orgasm making it hard to even stay conscious.
His breath gets short and sporadic, he drops his head to my chest and moans his way to a finish. I feel his fingers barely brush the head of my dick and I come hard.
When it’s over he pulls out slowly and rolls over onto his back. His eyes are closed and the used condom is laced lightly through the fingers on his left hand, which lies on his chest. I see red blotches on his perfect skin, places where the blood was flowing close enough to the surface to burn. His hair is soaked and matted to his forehead. His thigh muscles twitch from the exertion. He’s beautiful.
A long time passes with nothing but our breathing breaking the silence. Finally, before I fall asleep, I nudge his side with my knee so that I can remind him to untie me. He opens his eyes and looks up at me. I move my arms a little to indicate what I want. He smiles and sits up so he can release me. When my hands are free I rub my wrists where the skin is abused. He watches me intently, looking worried about the bruises already starting to bloom.
He takes my hands, one at a time, raising each to his lips so he can trace the marks with his tongue. He gently laves the skin, examining it closely for a long time.
When he’s done he looks up at me and sighs, “Is it alright?”
“It’s fine,” I nod. And then I smile.
He nods too and then goes to the bathroom. He shuts the door behind him and I ponder what he might be doing on the other side. Is he just taking a piss? Brushing his teeth again? Staring in the mirror and contemplating the complexity of falling for some kid he hired to work in his art department.
The last option makes me smile. I know it’s true. I know he’s falling. Maybe not in love, maybe not as hard as me. But he’s falling.
When he opens the door to come back to bed his breath smells minty and he’s holding a little tube of something in his hand. He sits on the bed and takes my hands again, smoothing a fresh smelling white cream into my wrists. He does it lightly and slowly, being careful not to hurt me or miss a spot. His movements are tender and it makes my chest tighten. When he’s done he puts the cream back and washes his hands, this time he doesn’t shut the door.
Then he turns out the lights and slides under the sheets next to me. When I hear his breathing even out I slide closer to him, just close enough to feel his body heat and hear his heartbeat. I turn my head so that my nose nearly touches his shoulder and I finally close my eyes.
All night I dream of falling.
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