“Yes,” he agreed as I straddled his legs. “But sex good.”
I laughed, unable to help myself as his hands slid up the back of my thighs to knead my ass. “Is it?” I asked, teasing.
“Yes,verygood,” he replied, mock seriously. “But clothes, right now, are bad.”
“Are they?”
His hands pushed at the bottom of my sweater. “Bad,” he repeated, and I obligingly tugged it off over my head, following it with the thin turtleneck I’d had on underneath.
Elliot let out a low growl, his hands roaming the skin of my chest and stomach. I grimaced a little as one hand crossed the layer of belly fat I’d put back on since moving out here.
His response to that was to squeeze the extra at my sides. “Your body is perfect,” he told me, his tone now actually serious. “I’m glad you put the weight back on.”
I raised an eyebrow. “This coming from Mr. Two-percent-body-fat.”
“Genetics,” he replied lightly. “I like your body just the way it is.”
I couldn’t help rolling my eyes, knowing my neck was flushing pink. “You have to say that.”
“Nope, I do not,” he disagreed, his fingers making their way back around to my stomach, then down to work open the button on my corduroy pants. “I could just not say anything. But I don’t like that you think you’re not sexy as fuck.”
I snorted—I couldn’t help it.
He flipped me, air rushing out of me in a gasp as my back hit the mattress, Elliot kneeling between my knees, his handspressing down on my shoulders. “Sexy,” he repeated, grinding his hips into mine to demonstrate just how much certain parts of his anatomy were interested in my body, “as fuck.”
I stopped arguing with him, too breathless and turned on. Even if I didn’t understand why he thought I was sexy, there was no question he was hard, his erection straining behind his jeans. At least until he undid his own fly, shoving both jeans and tight black underwear down to the floor, followed quickly by the dark grey long-sleeve UW t-shirt.
He made equally quick work of my pants and socks, although he left my trunks on, the dark green knit fabric stretched tightly over my rapidly hardening cock. He climbed onto the bed, his shoulders pushing my legs wide, and bent to nuzzle between my legs, drawing a gasp from me as he drew in a long breath.
“Fuck, I love your smell,” he breathed. “I havealwaysloved your smell.” He nuzzled me again. “Tell me I can taste you,” he rasped.
“God, yes,” I panted.
I barely registered that he’d removed my underwear, much less what he did with them, through the haze of want, and lost all capacity to think about it as his mouth closed around the head of my cock. The vibration of his low, rumbling growl did indescribable things to my nerve endings, sending a shudder of pleasure through me.
I got lost in the heat of his mouth, the suction and occasional scrape of his teeth, my head thrown back and hands clenched in the blankets. “El,” I managed.
He hummed around me in response.
“You’d better fuck me or I’m going to come,” I panted.
He pulled away, then kissed and nipped his way up my stomach, pausing to nibble, then suck on one nipple, then up the side of my throat until he seared my mouth with his and I could feel the heat of his arousal pressing against my highly sensitiveballs. “Not yet,” he murmured into my mouth. “I want to feel you when you do.”
I moaned. “Then you’d better hurry the fuck up,” I told him, grinding up against his taut belly.
That earned me another growl, but I heard him open the bottle of lube, then felt the rough pressure of fingers—two of them—and gasped.
“Too much?” he asked, his voice tight.
“N-no.” Words were hard. Two fingers stretched me to the edge of discomfort, but not farther than I was willing to go. Not even close.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” he breathed against my ear, nuzzling against my neck. He pushed me, stretching faster than he usually did, and the urgency in his touch stole my breath and made my heart race. I pushed my hips against his hand, and he moaned. “Tell me you’re ready.”
“God, yes.”
More lube, and he slicked himself, sheathed in latex, his skin flushed and shining with a faint sheen of sweat. He put one of my legs on his broad shoulder, hand running up and down my thigh before he breached me, just the very tip, pressing gently, slowly—agonizinglyslowly.
“El—fuck.”
